Free Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) by Jacie Floyd

skinny black jeans that hugged her legs.
    Annabel tugged and pulled the
snug-fitting tee away from her midriff. “You don’t think it’s too, um, tight?”
    “No, it’s not.” Carly left Anna’s
sensible poplin jacket on the bed and handed her a funky, studded denim one
instead. “Don’t worry. Wear this over it.”
    “I don’t know.” Annabel slid her
arms through the sleeves and stared at herself in the mirror.
    “It’s not perfect,” Carly said,
“but it’s the best we can do on short notice. Now, go , before he gets
tired of waiting.”
    “Okay, okay.” Annabel detoured to
the bathroom. Before Carly shooed her down the stairs and out the door, she
popped a couple more aspirin into her mouth and slugged them down with the blue
wonder drink.
    She returned to Max for inspection.
Waiting for her on the porch, he looked up from texting and gave her a long
assessing look. “Better” was his only comment. Tucking his phone into his
jacket pocket, he encircled her small hand with his gigantic one and tugged her
toward the bike.  “Let’s roll.”
    Carly trailed behind them. He
handed Annabel a helmet, then took her purse, looked at it in disgust, and
stuffed it in a saddlebag-thingy. She about ripped her ears off when she jammed
the helmet onto her head, then fumbled fastening her chinstrap. It took her so
long to adjust the only barrier she’d have between concrete and a cracked skull
that Max finally tugged off a riding glove and stepped up to takeover.
    Strong, capable hands snapped the
strap into place before he flicked her nose with his finger. “All set. Hop on.”
He slid his glove back on.
    She eyed man and machine with
trepidation. “Any advice?”
    “Relax,” Carly suggested.
    “Put your visor down or you’ll get
bugs in your teeth, and lean the same way I do on the curves,” Max said. “Put
these in.” He dug into his pocket and held out a small plastic box.
    “Earplugs?” She wrinkled her nose.
“No, thanks.” She’d prefer to hear the reassuring whoop-whoop-whoop of an
emergency vehicle pulling up beside her if it came to that.
    He shrugged then stuck the box back
in his pocket. “Then, climb aboard and hang on.”
    Her heart thumped a mile a minute
as she swung her leg over and perched behind him. She left as much room between
them as possible—all of two inches if she measured right. “Hang on to what?”
    “Me.” With the devil’s own grin, he
took her hands and clasped them around his waist. His overwhelming presence
smothered her, and she pulled back.
    “Where are we going?” she asked,
stalling.
    “We’re going on a day trip with my
biker club.”
    “Oh, my.” Her hand covered her
heart as she pictured herself cowering in a gang of Hells Angels, while they
drank whisky straight from the bottle, smoked dope, juggled switchblades, and
compared tattoos of naked women.
    “You got a problem with that?”
    Maybe she should back out,
after all. Now, while she was still on her home turf. Or maybe it wouldn’t be
as bad as she imagined. “Do you have a tattoo?”
    He smiled like the devil. “Sure. Want
to see it?” His hands went to his belt buckle like he was ready to lower his
jeans.
    “No!” Swallowing hard, she leaned
forward to whisper too low for Carly to hear. “Will there be nudity or drugs?”
    “Not unless you want there to be, darlin ’.” He flipped her visor into place. That, combined
with the growl of the engine, blocked her ears and drowned out his laughter.
    And they were off.

Chapter Four
     
    >Fear for life and limb
replaced Annabel’s lesser worries as Max revved the motor into a ferocious
growl, shifted into gear, and sent them lunging forward with reckless speed.
Between the noise and the motion, her poor head nearly exploded. The body
rocking vibration of the black beast shook her insides like tapioca pudding.
    She turned and looked with longing
at her safe and solid house, as well as her beautiful, lively daughter waving
them on their