The Biker's Fate Chapter 518

Tate

I didn't sleep well, due to the annoying dreams of Flash going down on me, but I had an interview with a prestigious law firm in Portland, so I needed to be focused.

I still had to pass the Bar but since I planned to take the UBE, it covered both Oregon and Washington, along with several other states.

"Tate?" my sister called as she knocked on my door.

"Come in."

Hayden pushed the door open and leaned against the frame. "You've got a visitor."

I checked my watch and frowned. "What? Now?"

"Yep."

"Who?"

She grinned. "Flash Wallace."

"No," I hissed. "I don't have time for him right now. Tell him to piss off."

"Yeah, that's not really gonna work. I told him you were heading out in five minutes, and he said his visit would take three."

"Pain in the ass, sneaky, pushy, nosy asshole!"

Hayden chuckled. "What do you want to do?"

"I have to get to my interview," I growled, pulling my blazer on over my silk blouse. "I'll talk to him when I leave."

"Okey doke."

Hayden closed my door, and I went about finishing what I was doing.

Let Flash wait.

Dick.

I pulled my hair in a braided bun at the base of my skull and shoved a thousand bobby pins into it, hoping it would stay put. I was both blessed and cursed with thick, curly, red hair that had a mind of its own most days. Now if I could just find a way to hide my freckles, I'd feel like I could rule the world.

I shook off my insecurities and grabbed my heels. I usually drove in flats to avoid damage to my only pair of expensive shoes, so I grabbed my purse and carried that and my shoes downstairs.

"Tate," Flash said as he stopped his pacing in the foyer.

"I don't have time for you," I snapped, sliding my feet into my tennis shoes.

"Just give me five minutes."

"I don't have five minutes," I said, pulling open the door and stepping outside.

Flash followed and I locked the door.

"I didn't sleep with Madison Payne," he blurted.

I hissed, spinning to face him. "You're a fucking liar."

"I'm not. Swear to Christ, Tate. I have never—would never, fuck that woman."

I jabbed a finger into his chest. "I saw you."

"I don't know what you saw or what you think you saw, but it wasn't what you thought you saw."

"I don't have time for this, Flash. I have an interview. Save your story for someone who cares." I hurried to my car and hit the key fob to unlock it.

"Dinner!" he called.

"What?"

"Let me take you to dinner tonight."

I pulled open my door. "No."

"Yes," he insisted. "Six."

I looked at my watch. "I might not be home by then."

"Seven."

"I have to go," I growled, sliding into my car.

"I'll be here at seven!" he called as I pulled out of my driveway.

I flipped him off, but he just laughed.

Damn him to hell.

Flash

Jesus, she was even more gorgeous than the last time I'd seen her. Her new curves were showcased in the pencil skirt that fell just below her knees, along with the silk green blouse that worked perfectly for her skin. Her freckles did me in, however. I wanted to kiss every single one, starting with the one on the corner of her upper lip.

After she drove away, I went back to the front door and rang the bell. I knew Hayden was home alone, I just hoped she'd answer the door.

She did.

"What, Flash?" she demanded.

"What time's Tate due home?"

"I don't know, I'm not her secretary."

"That's the way it's gonna be?" I asked.

Hayden shrugged. "Until Tate says otherwise, damn straight it's the way it's gonna be."

I sighed. "At least give me a timeframe."

"She has a job interview, Flash. In Portland. I have no idea how long it will take or if she'll hit traffic on the way home, so I can't give you a timeframe." She rolled her eyes. "Not that I would anyway."

I fisted my hands at my side and took a deep breath. "I don't know what you think you know, but let me assure you, it's fuckin' wrong."

She narrowed her eyes. "I have been sworn to secrecy, so I cannot tell you exactly what I think of you. Total bummer for me."

"So me asking you to text me when Tate gets home isn't gonna happen?"

She slammed the door, and I was left staring at wood.

I turned and jogged the block and a half to my parents', walking inside and heading to the kitchen. Mom was at the island, sipping a cup of tea, while Dad stood at the stove stir-frying veggies.

"Hi, love, this is a nice surprise."

I walked over to my mother and kissed her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, love, thank you."

Dad gave me a chin lift. "Where you been?"

I sat on the stool beside Mom. "Trying to get Tate to forgive me."

"How'd that go?" Mom asked.

"About as bad as I thought it would."

She reached over and cupped my face. "Sorry, darling."

"You still gonna try?" Dad asked.

"Yeah."

He grinned. "Proud of you, kid."

"Don't speak too soon," I retorted. "Plenty of time to fuck it up even worse."

"You got a flight tomorrow, right?" Dad asked.

"Yeah. Gotta be in Portland at noon."

My day job, which happened to also be my passion, was flying. I flew helicopters for pretty much anyone who paid my exorbitant fuel costs, and it meant I had not only been able to buy my own rig, I'd also been able to save a nice nest egg over the past few years.

I had also trained in the Bell 412 which were often used to fight fires, and I'd spent some time fighting fires in California a few years ago. I'd been the youngest pilot at the time, and I'd loved every second of the danger.

My parents, however, had not.

"You still good to set up for family night?" Dad asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. Not a problem."

The club hosted a family night once a month and opened its doors to every member and their family. Close friends were also encouraged to attend, so it was usually crowded, and always a good time.

"Are you going to be here for dinner tonight?" Mom asked.

"No. I'm gonna try and talk Tate into letting me take her out."

She smiled. "Okay, love."

"I'm gonna head home and grab a shower, then try Tate again."

"Go easy, darling," Mom warned.

"I will, Mama. Just gotta make it right," I said, kissing her cheek, then made my way home.

Three years ago, I'd bought a crappy little ranch on Lakeshore. It had three bedrooms and two bathrooms, a great view of the river and a basement. The bones were good, but the aesthetic was stuck firmly in the eighties. I was young, single, and never took women back to my place, so it was still stuck in the eighties. I just didn't give a fuck.

Not to mention, I spent most of my time at the club… or my parents'. Walking in now, however, I looked at it in a new way.

Tate would fuckin' hate it and I suddenly needed to make it better.