Page 68 of Reno

He sipped his coffee, all the while looking at me. I hadn’t showered yet and was self-conscious about how I looked without makeup.

“What?” I reached for my messy bun. “My hair? I don’t have on makeup. I know, I look like a troll, don’t I?”

“I was just looking at you. What? Am I gonna get in trouble for looking?”

I chuckled. “No.”

“That’s all I was doing,” he said. “I like looking at pretty things. You’re pretty.”

I felt myself blush. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I glanced at him and then looked away. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He laughed. “Being observant?”

“No,” I said, meeting his gaze. “For expressing your observations.”

“How’d you sleep last night?”

“Really well. You?”

“It’s funny,” he said. “Normally, I wake up a couple of times a night. I didn’t wake up last night, once. I was worried that I wouldn’t even be able to sleep. Kinda cool that it went so well.”

I was almost too excited to sleep but was exhausted enough from the sex that it only took a moment to fall asleep.

“Why did you think you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep?” I asked.

“Never had anyone in the bed with me.”

“Here?”

He laughed. “Anywhere. Never had a woman in bed with me. Didn’t know what to expect. Went pretty good, as far as I’m concerned.”

“You’ve never slept with a woman?”

“Slept?” he shook his head. “No. Never had a reason to.”

“What did you think?”

“Truthfully?” He sipped his coffee. “Hate to admit it, but I kind of liked it.”

Being in a relationship with Reno was going to take some getting used to. Simple things like eating breakfast together, talking, and being truthful with one another about our feelings was all new to me.

It sounded like it was equally new to him as well.

I looked forward to enjoying everything our new relationship offered.

Together.

“I don’t mind admitting it at all,” I said. “I loved it.”

24

Reno

Proud that the poker run was a huge success, and that the Devil’s Disciples played a part in organizing it, I held my head high as we entered the highway.

Riding north out of Oceanside on our way to San Clemente, the motorcycles stretched for as far as the eye could see. Open to anyone on any style, make, or manufacturer’s motorcycle, the colorful line of chromed steel machines included everything from old-school Hondas to new Harley baggers.

Each of the Filthy Fuckers in attendance that had an Ol’ Lady had her on the back of their bike. The Devil’s Disciples, short of Tito, had an Ol’ Lady on the back of theirs, too. In watching Tito enter the highway ahead of me, I felt a tinge of sorrow that he hadn’t found someone to at least attend the event with him, even if it was only for one day.