The Biker's Fate Chapter 143

Darien

Although his home had a definite masculine vibe, it was clean and tidy, and surprisingly spacious. He had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a den, great room and the kitchen was incredible. State of the art stainless appliances, big center island with sink and dishwasher, and leather seated stools that fit perfectly with the decor.

There was also a basement with a pool table, huge sectional and seventy-inch television. A bathroom downstairs (not so clean) finished off the space.

We headed back up to the kitchen and Mack grabbed a different set of keys. "I can hear you thinking."

I smiled. "That's a really impressive gift."

He pulled me to him, sitting on one of the stools so we were face to face. "What?"

"I just feel bad."

"Why?"

I couldn't look at him, but I managed to confess, "Because I'm a big fat chicken."

Mack dropped his head back and laughed.

"I don't find this very funny." I frowned at him. "How can I date someone in a motorcycle ga—I mean, club, if I'm afraid to get on the back of his motorcycle?" I bit my lip. "I don't want to embarrass you."

"Darien." He sobered and shook his head. "Not everyone feels comfortable on the back of a bike. It doesn't make you a big fat chicken or an embarrassment to me."

I looped my hands around his neck. "I had this whole plan to be a little more adventurous this year, and my second time out, I've failed."

"Your second? When was the first?"

"The night I met you." I smiled. "Technically, I guess that was the second because the first time I came I was turned away at the door."

He gave me a gentle squeeze. "There's a reason for that."

"So I keep hearing."

"Blush is a meat market, Darien. Not a good place for someone like you... or Dani for that matter. Booker and I made a decision a while ago that we still feel is the right one today, but I will admit, Kim forcing the issue meant I found you."

"People like me?"

"Let's say, not promiscuous."

"You have no idea if I'm promiscuous or not. I might look sweet and innocent, but I could be a total slut for all you know."

"Yeah?" he challenged. "How many men have you slept with?"

"Hundreds."

Mack raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No, of course not, I'm just trying to make a point here. And, by the way, Millie isn't promiscuous and she would have been let in last time, but she chose to leave with me."

"The rule isn't always perfect," he admitted. "Regardless, and at the risk of getting hit, I'd venture a guess you've had a couple relationships, but that'd be about it."

I shrugged.

"Close?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Really?"

"I haven't had any."

"What?" He dropped his hands from my waist. "You're a fuckin' virgin, Darien?"

I stepped back, a little surprised by his anger.

Mack stood and paced the kitchen, dragging his hands down his face. "Shit."

"I'm going to call a cab."

He raised his hand. "No, you're gonna stay right there and let me process this."

"No, I don't think I am."

He stalked toward me. "Darien, just give me a second, okay?"

"Why? So you can find yet another thing lacking in me?"

"Babe, who the fuck told you you were lacking... in anything?"

"It doesn't matter," I snapped.

Mack took a deep breath and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the great room. He sat in one of the overstuffed chairs and settled me on his lap. "We're gonna talk."

I crossed my arms and forced down my need to flee.

"Why are you a virgin, Darien?" he asked. "Is it religious based?"

I shook my head. "No. It's Dork Darien based."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel like it's a little early in our... relationship to unload all of that on you."

"Can't get to know each other if we don't unload."

"Remember, you asked for it." I sighed. "My dad split when Pauley was nine, I was four. My mom didn't take it well. Pauley said about a year after Dad left, Mom checked out on life, sleeping with different men on a pretty regular basis, drinking a ton of vodka, that kind of thing. I don't ever remember having a dad or a sober mom, but I was still a pretty happy kid because Pauley took care of me. But I was chubby, probably because we ate mac and cheese every day, and not the good stuff. Not enough money for Kraft, so we got the generic kind and when you're raised on ramen noodles, crappy boxed food, and white bread, you don't get a whole lot of nutrition. I was always in my own world, so I didn't really realize I was fat until I went to middle school and I was told... every day. When I was about twelve, Mom met this really nice man, Mike, who had money, well, at least more money than we'd ever seen. They were married for about three or four years, and he paid for braces, which was awesome, but it meant I was now the fat, freckled, red-headed, brace-face, dork in middle school. It didn't help that my sister was totally hot and in touch with her sexuality. Well, as in touch as you can be as a teenager. Mike divorced Mom when I was sixteen and she spiraled into the bottle again. Nothing was ever her fault. Not her affair with her coworker, not her affair with Mike's best friend. None of it."

"Babe," he whispered.