To Find Love Again
A Fork in the Road
BROOKE
Brooke hesitated a moment longer.
She stared at Josiah, leaning against his motorcycle, waiting patiently for her to make up her mind.
She examined his face for any traces of a threat but came up empty.
Despite her fears, she couldn’t help but think that she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and ride.
“Let’s go,” she said.
I’m going to do it. I’m going to leave Bracketville.
Finally!
He beamed as she straddled the seat behind him and gripped his waist.
Brooke couldn’t believe it.
She was on a motorcycle!
An actual motorcycle!
When she woke up that day, she could never have imagined that she would find herself seated on the back of a Harley-Davidson at sundown.
“I’ll go slowly at first,” he said.
And off they went.
The bumps of the road made her bounce up and down.
The rumble of the engine filled her ears.
The experience was equal parts mesmerizing and terrifying.
And, if she were being completely honest with herself, she found the vibrations between her legs slightly arousing.
She tightened her grip on Josiah as he increased their speed.
Brooke liked holding him. She liked the feel of his hard, corded muscle beneath her fingers.
And even though she barely knew Josiah, Brooke imagined herself riding with him like this in the future.
She also imagined riding him in the future.
Perhaps on this motorcycle…
Or a bed…
Or a kitchen counter...
Or—
“Oh, stop it!” she chided herself. You barely know the guy.
Besides, Brooke had never ridden anyone before. She was a virgin, saving herself for marriage.
Just then, a memory of that night in the bar—of Ron and his friends using her mouth like a toy—hit Brooke like the wind that was whipping across her face.
She felt her blood go cold.
Sex of all kinds was sacred to Brooke. And those men had forced her to please them against her will.
So much cruelty, so much abuse, neglect, and humiliation had been dealt to her in this town.
She gripped onto him tighter.
***
JOSIAH
Josiah was acutely aware of the hands around his waist.
Misty had once described holding onto him like clinging to the side of an oak.
This was the first time a woman had ridden behind him in three years.
It felt familiar, yet so different.
Brooke’s hands were static, gripping the same position the whole time. Misty’s hands would always roam around his body, tickling him under his arms, pinching his love handles, or, better yet, massaging his rod through his jeans.
Josiah had always “complained” to her about this, claiming that it was dangerous to distract him while he was driving. But he’d known, and she’d known, that he liked it.
And now Josiah couldn’t help but wish that Brooke would do the same thing.
No. You can’t compare them. They’re two different people.
His knuckles turned white on the handlebars as he thought to himself, “Am I just looking for a replacement?”
No one could replace Misty. He knew that. For a moment, he wished he’d never invited Brooke onto his bike.
But, in the same instant, he found himself hoping that this ride wouldn’t end.
“We’re here!” Brooke shouted, startling Josiah.
He looked at where Brooke was pointing, brought the bike to a smooth stop, and whistled.
Jem hadn’t been lying when she said the place was nice.
The building was two stories tall and made entirely from glass and white marble.
Virtually every kind of motorcycle was on display. All in pristine condition.
On top of that, at least three salesmen, all dressed in suits and ties, were standing out in the lot by the merchandise.
All of this gave the impression of class, flash, and success.
At least it was supposed to.
In reality, there were next to no people in the lot. The salesmen looked bored. And the two mechanic bays were closed.
“That’s messed up,” he said, dismounting the bike.
“What is?” Brooke asked, accepting a hand down from the motorcycle.
Josiah nodded at the mechanic bays.
“Those. They should be open.”
“Oh,” Brooke said, noticing them for the first time.
“I wonder if they even have a mechanic on staff.”
Brooke shrugged, but Josiah carried on.
“There’s no reason this place shouldn’t be turning a profit. When I find out what’s going on, I’m going to rip the management a new one,” he said to Brooke, before realizing that she was eyeing him warily. “What?”
“Well—” she said. “It might not be their fault. Maybe they just need help, not punishment.”
And just like that, she defused the anger-bomb that was prematurely forming inside of him.
He put his arm around Brooke. “You’re right. I’m jumping to conclusions. Let’s go inside,” he said, leading her to the front door.
The interior of the bike shop matched the exterior—bright and clean, filled with the scent of new leather.
There were helmets, riding boots, polish kits, jackets, and every other type of motorcycle accessory Josiah could have dreamed up.
And that’s the problem, Josiah realized just as an attractive young African-American woman approached them.
“Hello! Welcome to Tucker’s Motorcycle Shop. My name is Jaqueline. How may I help you?”
“Hi. I’m Josiah. This is Brooke. We were looking to speak to the manager.”
“What about?”
Josiah handed her the file Mr. Lawson gave him.
“I’m the new owner.”
Jaqueline eyed him, paying extra special attention to the ink on his right hand, and then nodded.
“Well, then. Nice to meet you. My husband is the manager. He’ll be right with you.”
She briefly disappeared into another room, returning moments later with a large African-American man.
“Hello.” He smiled, extending a hand to shake. “I’m Jaydon.”
“Josiah,” he replied, accepting the gesture.
“So you’re really taking over this place?” Jaydon sized Josiah up like his wife had moments before.
“It was a shock to me, too,” he said curtly, ready to get down to business. “What’s going on? Who’s running this place into the ground?”
“Ever since Mr. Tucker got sick, we’ve been drowning over here.”
“Is that why the mechanic bays are closed?”
“I’m just a salesman. Tuck was the bike expert.”
It’s true. Josiah and Misty’s dad always bonded over their love of motorcycles.
“We’re losing money so fast I couldn’t afford to hire another mechanic.”
“It’s time to revamp the shop’s image,” Josiah said decidedly.
Jaydon tilted his head to one side. “How so?”
“Make it less fancy. Stop pouring the money into merchandise, and put the focus back on servicing the bikers that pass through this town.”
“That’s… interesting,” Jaydon said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“You don’t like the idea?”
“I didn’t say that. I just— I think this place will die without Tuck.”
Josiah thought about this for a moment.
Maybe Jaydon was right.
Maybe it was a hopeless case and he should just shutter the shop, for good. But...
“We gotta at least try to save it, don’t you think?”
“If you’re up for the challenge, I’ll do what I can to help,” Jaydon said, nodding.
“Good.” Josiah patted him on the shoulder. “For starters, get rid of the suit. You look like you’re selling life insurance, not motorcycles.”
Jaydon chuckled. “Whatever you say.”
***
BROOKE
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Jaqueline asked Brooke while she was eyeing a red helmet with black etching.
“Not really,” Brooke admitted. “I just rode a motorcycle for the first time today, so I don’t know anything about this stuff.”
Jaqueline shook her head.
“No, I mean, do you know what you’re doing with him?” She nodded at Josiah.
Brooke frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“That tattoo on his hand. I’ve seen ones like it in this shop before. It means he’s a president.”
“Of what?”
“An MC.”
Brooke just stared at her blankly.
“An MC,” Jaqueline insisted. “A motorcycle club. A biker gang.”
This news hit Brooke like a punch in the gut, and she cast a quick glance at Josiah.
Does that make him a criminal?
Brooke had heard stories about biker gangs—their history with violence and organized crime.
Did Josiah do those things? Was he no better than Ron and his crowd of drug dealers?
But even as these paranoid thoughts swirled around in her mind, again she found herself questioning them.
Would a violent criminal have saved me from assault? Taught a drunk how to properly treat a woman?
Brooke didn’t think so, but all the unanswered questions about Josiah’s identity and his intentions were tearing her up inside.
She had decided to leave Bracketville. It was all she’d been thinking about since that awful night, and now she had made up her mind.
At the same time, she wanted to get to know this man…this mysterious, massive, but oddly gentle biker.
Now she’d never get the chance to find out who he really was.
Continue to the next chapter of To Find Love Again