Until July Read online

  *

  I look at my receptionist, Kayan, and feel my eyebrows pull together when she taps franticly on the glass and waves her hand at me. “I’ll be right back,” I tell my patient’s family, and follow Kayan out of the exam room and down the hall towards the waiting area. “What happened?” I ask her, and she pauses just around the corner and points. I look around to where she’s pointing, instantly regretting it when I see the profile of the man I wished I would never see again standing near the reception desk. “What did he want?” I whisper, taking Hot Biker Dude in, in all his jeans-and-leather glory.

  “He said he wants to adopt a dog. I sat there staring at him for five minutes, not able to even speak, and I could tell he was becoming pissed off, so I figured you could help him.”

  “Do you remember when I told you about the bikers who chased me down a couple weeks ago?”

  “Yeah,” she mutters dreamily.

  “He’s the one I tasered,” I tell her, watching as her eyes get big and her mouth form an O.

  “No,” she whispers, looking around the corner at him.

  “Yes.” I nod then pat her shoulder. “Good luck.”

  “No…please.” She shakes her head franticly, grabbing onto my hand.

  “He’s not that scary.” I frown.

  “No, he’s scary hot.” She shakes her head again. “I could deal with him if he was just hot, but no, he’s scary and hot. That is a no-go for me. You know this.”

  “Fine.” I stand at my full height, which is only five-four, and adjust my shirt, pressing my boobs up a little higher, which makes no sense, because I’m wearing scrubs. “Can you go make sure the Thompsons have the supplies they need for Tutu?”

  “Of course.” She breathes a sigh of relief, and I inhale a huge breath before stepping around the corner.

  “Hi, Kayan told me you were interested in adopting?” I say, pretending like I have no idea who he is. His head turns toward me, his gaze locking with mine, and my heart stutters in my chest. Everything I remembered about him was wrong. He is way hotter than I recalled, the scruff darker, his lips fuller, and his eyes greener.

  “You,” he mutters as his eyes travel over the length of my hair, the tops of my breasts, down to my waist, and then slowly slide back up, making every inch of me feel exposed. “July,” he says when his eyes meet mine again.

  “How do you know my name?” I ask, feeling completely baffled.

  His head dips towards my chest and I look down, seeing my nametag attached to my top. “Oh,” I say, feeling like an idiot, my hand going to my chest to cover the piece of plastic.

  “Wes.” He smirks.

  “Pardon?” I blink, wishing I had forced Kayan to do her damn job.

  “Name’s Wes.”

  “Cool name,” I mutter, and then wish I had grown up with a filter that worked properly when I see his smirk turn into a smile. “So you want to adopt?” I ask him, knowing that if he says yes, his hotness points are going to increase tenfold.

  “Thinking about it.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, forcing the well-worn black shirt he has on to stretch across his chest and abs. I swallow and mentally kick my ass around in my head until I pull myself together enough to speak again.

  “Well…” I clear my throat, and then narrow my eyes when I see he’s smiling at how uncomfortable I am. “Follow me,” I snap, and stomp down the hall in front of him then push through the double doors at the end of the hall that leads to the kennels out back. I hear him chuckle, but I ignore him. “Those are dogs. Those are cats.” I wave my hand back and forth. “Come back up front when you’re done.” I start to storm past him, but his hand shoots out, wrapping around my bicep stopping me in my tracks and sending a zip of electricity up my arm.

  “Slow down, babe,” he says, and my heart stops, and a shiver slides down my spine from the tone of his voice.

  I shake off his hand and turn to face him, trying to be casual, even though my heart is beating so hard I swear it’s going to pound right out of my chest. “Did you need something else?”

  “Can you tell me a little about some of the dogs you have here?”

  No! I mentally scream, but my stupid head nods up and down. “What would you like to know?” I ask, and am proud my voice sounds normal and not breathy like I expected it to.

  “Are any of these guys here known to be good guard dogs?”

  “Yeah, Capone,” I tell him, walking toward the kennel at the end of the hall. Capone needs a home. He’s been with us for over six months, but no one wants the poor guy. He’s ugly, but very sweet. If my heart weren’t still broken from losing Beast years ago, I would have adopted Capone myself.

  “This guy here is really vicious; he would kill someone if they looked at him the wrong way.” He looks at me doubtfully. “Don’t be fooled. He would rip your face off if he was given the chance,” I tell Wes, crossing my arms over my chest while stopping in front of Capone’s kennel. Capone sits up, his large bulgy dog eyes looking between Wes and me, the hair on top of his head sticking up in every direction and his long tongue hanging out the side of his mouth where a few teeth are missing.

  I look from Capone to Wes and see his eyes are on me, and there is something in his eyes that causes my lungs to freeze.

  “Three,” he says in a tone that is so deep that the space between my legs tingles and the breath I was holding whooshes out.

  “Three what?”

  “Three times you’ve fucked with me.”

  “Capone is a badass,” I insist, and his hand runs over his mouth and his eyes travel leisurely over me from head to toe.

  “Three times you’ve made me want to fuck you or fill that smart mouth of yours.” He steps towards me, his body pressing me into the wall behind me, and his large hand takes hold of my waist. I get lost in his eyes and words for a moment, but then I remember where we are and who he is. His head dips towards mine, and I do the only thing I can think of—I cover my mouth with my hand.

  His head pulls back and his eyes search my face as his brows pull together. “That’s a first,” he mumbles, but doesn’t exactly sound disappointed. “You don’t want to kiss me?” he questions, running his nose over the back of my hand that’s still protecting my mouth. My mind screams, “Yes!” but my head shakes no.

  “So sweet.” He skims his nose along my hand until he brushes my ear. “Bet once I’m in there, I won’t want to leave,” he murmurs, and I swallow hard, fighting the instinct to remove my hand, turn my head, and kiss him like my body is begging me to. “Bet you’d go wild for me the minute my hands were on you.” The fingers of his hand at my side press in. “Bet you want it as badly as I do.”

  He inhales at my neck and his tongue touches the skin behind my ear, making my knees actually shake. I have been in love; I’ve been in lust too, but this is something new, something that makes me feel like every cell in my body is fighting to pull me closer to him, and that scares the shit out of me. I duck down and slide under his arm then walk backwards until there’s at least twelve feet between us. Only then do I remove my hand from my mouth.

  “So what do you say? Do you want to adopt Capone?” I ask, ignoring whatever the hell it was that just happened.

  His brow that was furrowed after I stepped out of his embrace smooths out and he smiles. “I’ll take him,” he says, looking at Capone then me.

  “Really?” I whisper as my heart flutters in my chest.

  “I still need a guard dog, but I’ll take him too.”

  “Why do you need a guard dog?”

  “I have a shop, and around back, there’s a lot with cars. The last couple weeks, someone’s jumped the fence and broken into cars, stealing stereos or other parts out of them.”

  “You can’t leave a dog outside.” I frown at him.

  “Didn’t say I was going to. You can even come check it out for yourself.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I mutter as he smirks.

  “So do you have a
nother dog? One that is actually dangerous?” he asks, and I frown.

  “Dogs are not dangerous. Stupid dog owners are dangerous.”

  “Okay…do you have a dog that’s protective?” He shakes his head, and I let out a breath then lead him to the back of the shelter, where Max is kept. Max was the only dog from the fighting ring that I was able to save. He is blind out of one eye and mean, but I love him and just couldn’t bring myself to put him to sleep.

  “This is Max.” I crouch down in front of Max’s cage and press my hand through the bars, rubbing his dark head.

  “What happened to him?” Wes asks, crouching down next to me. I expect Max to growl, but he just looks at Wes then me. Wes slowly presses a finger through the cage, and Max starts licking him, making my heart feel lighter. I hate that Max is here and stuck in a kennel all the time.

  “He was here one morning when I got into work. He was almost dead, his eye was missing, and he couldn’t walk. I realized then that he had been fought and obviously lost.”

  “Normally when dogs are fought, they kill them for losing,” he tells me, something that causes tears to pool in my eyes.

  “I know,” I whisper, petting Max’s head. “He was the first to be brought to me, but every few days, I get to work and there’s another. Max is the only one I have been able to save.

  “What the fuck?”

  “I don’t know.” I stand up, walk over to one of the visiting rooms, and open the door. “Wait in here. I’ll bring Max in so we can make sure you guys get along,” I tell him. I wait until he’s in the room then shut the door and get Max, taking him into the room with me.

  “Hey, bud,” Wes mutters, petting Max’s head when he comes to sit in front of him.

  I watch them for a few minutes, and then ask, “Do you want to see how he and Capone get along, or were you just saying you wanted them both in order to earn brownie points?”

  His head tilts back to look at me. “Go get Capone, babe. I need to make sure my boys are cool,” he mutters.

  “Be right back,” I mumble and head out of the room.

  In front of Capone’s kennel, I jump up and down, shaking out my hands. He watches silently, while the rest of the dogs go crazy. I make sure Capone is on his leash as I lead him into the room, where he meets Wes and Max. Max sits nicely, while Capone sniffs around before jumping up to sit on Wes’ lap.

  “You guys look good together.” I smile at the image, reach into my back pocket, and grab my phone. I slide up the camera, taking a picture before I can think better of it. My head bends and I look at the photo, not quiet sure what the feeling in my stomach means.

  “You wanna have dinner with me?”

  My head flies up and my gaze collides with his. I have read a lot, and I do mean a lot of biker books, and not once has a biker taken a girl out to dinner. “Um…” I whisper.

  “I know a great Mexican spot.”

  “Mexican?” I repeat.

  “Or if you want something else…” He shrugs.

  “I like Mexican.” I clear my throat and look at Max and Capone.

  “Tonight?”

  I look at him again, and he has one hand on Capone and the other on Max, two guys I believed would be forced to live out the rest of their lives in cages. He’s saving them, so that tells me a lot more than knowing him for weeks could.

  “Okay,” I agree, then move away from the bench when he stands. “Let’s get you guys out of here.”

  It doesn’t take long to fill out the necessary paperwork, and when it’s done, I help him get both boys into his Escalade.

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “See you tonight,” I confirm, watching him.

  He swings up into his truck and shuts the door, pulling on a pair of sunglasses. His head dips towards me and I wave. The truck fits him as much as his bike does. He looked hot getting behind the wheel.

  I feel for my phone in my pocket, making sure it’s still where he put it after he programed his number into it. I go inside and come to a complete stop when Kayan looks at me and smiles.

  “What?” I ask, and she presses her lips together—to keep from laughing, I’m sure.

  “Shut up,” I say, walking back into my office and shutting the door.

  I have a date. I have a date with a hot biker who just adopted two dogs. Yeah, I was right in my last assessment of him. I’m screwed.

  Chapter 2

  I look at myself in the mirror and turn from side to side, checking myself out. I have on a kimono jacket, and I’ve paired it with a red tank and dark denim capris. I walk to my closet and pull out my beige wedges that wrap around my ankle and have a peep toe. I slip them on, tie them up and around my ankle, and then walk back to the bathroom. I apply some bronzer, a little blush, and a whole lot of mascara. I tease the top of my head and bend over, using some spray before flipping my head back over, pulling the bottom pieces down over the tops of my breasts.

  I do not look like a biker’s girl, but I do look cute.

  I head out to my Jeep and toss my bag across the seat. It takes ten minutes to get to the restaurant that Wes asked me to meet him at, and when I arrive, the parking lot is packed with cars and tons of bikes. It’s late spring, so the evenings are warm, and the whole outdoor patio is packed with diners wanting to eat outside under the stars. My phone starts to ring, and I answer it without checking who it is.

  “Hello?”

  “Babe, the lot’s full.”

  “I know; there’s no parking.”

  “I’ll follow you home and you can ride back with me,” he says, but I don’t know if that’s smart. I’m not sure I will be able to be pressed close to him with my thighs around his, my hands on his body.

  “Babe.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll follow you.” I turn around and see him straddling his bike with his cut over a plaid shirt in blues and blacks with the sleeves rolled up, the top buttons open enough to see the tank he has on under it, and a pair of jeans with his black boots.

  “Okay,” I whisper, and pull around the parking lot then onto the main road. He follows me the few minutes to my house, and I park in my driveway, getting out quickly and meeting him at the back of my car.

  “You wanna get your helmet?” he asks.

  I look at my bag in my hand and realize that if I’m riding with him, I need to lighten my load. “Be right back,” I mutter, opening the door to my car and bending across the seat to press the button for the garage.

  “Babe.”

  “Hmm?” I turn to look over my shoulder at him.

  “You look good, baby.”

  My stomach starts to turn, not with unease, but with excitement.

  “Thanks.” I smile with a shake of my head and go into my garage, pulling the stuff I need out of my purse and shoving it into my bra and pockets before carrying my helmet back out to where he’s waiting.

  “Your car good?” he asks, lifting his leg over the seat of his bike and taking my helmet from me.

  “Yes,” I whisper as his smell surrounds me. His fingers tuck my hair behind my ears, and then he places the helmet over my head and hooks the button under my chin.

  “That okay?” he asks, and I nod as he tosses his leg over the seat once more. I’ve ridden bikes since I was fifteen and begged my mom to teach me to ride. She and I both like riding sports bikes, but my uncles and cousins who ride like Harleys, so I know what I’m doing. But I have never been on the back of a bike with a man I’m attracted too. I slide on, and the moment my ass touches the seat, his hands go to the back of my calves, where he pulls me tighter against him.

  “Hold me tight,” he instructs, looking at me over his shoulder. I place my hands on his waist and squeeze him a little tighter as the bike takes off, which is a huge mistake, because I feel hardness like I’ve never felt before right under my palms. I didn’t even know abs were something that actually exist in real life. I try to keep still, even though my hands itch to press into him to see if what I think I’m f
eeling is really real.

  When we pull into the parking lot, I remove my hands quickly and get off the bike. I pull off my helmet and bend over, fluffing my hair before swinging my head back upright.

  “You need to watch who’s around when you do shit like that,” Wes says taking ahold of my hip.

  “What?”

  “That bending over, hair-flip shit you just did.” I look at him and see that his eyes are pointing toward the outdoor eating area, where there is a group of guys all watching us. I ignore his comment and start walking into the restaurant, or try to, but his finger hooks into the back of my jeans and he pulls me into step with him. Then he wraps his hand around my waist, his fingers curling into my side.

  “How many?” a cute Spanish girl asks as soon as we enter the restaurant.

  “Two,” Wes tells her, and she leads us to a booth near the bar and gives us our menus, telling us our waiter will be right with us.

  My gaze connects with his, and I bite my lip and lift my menu up. The intimacy of being in the booth with him is causing me to suddenly feel nervous.

  “Wes.”

  I turn and look up at a guy who is wearing something similar to Wes, only he has on a red and blue plaid shirt, with his cut over it.

  “How’re you?” Wes shakes his hand and they begin to talk about something to do with bikes, or some crap I don’t understand. I look at Wes, and I doubt he even remembers I’m here at this point. I test my theory by saying, “Excuse me,” to the guy, and telling Wes I’m going to use the restroom. His eyes don’t even come to me when I speak. I slip out of the booth and go to the restroom then back to the table. The guy is still there and has now taken my seat, and they each have a beer in front of them. I stand there waiting for a few minutes, wanting to see if Wes realizes I’m not there, but his eyes don’t search the room for me.

  “Screw this,” I whisper, suddenly feeling sorry for myself. I pull out my phone, call a cab, walk out to Wes’ bike, and grab my helmet off the seat. It takes three minutes for the cab to show up, and the moment I slip into the back seat, my phone starts to ring. I click the end button, and do it again when it rings two more times. When we reach my house, I give the cabdriver a ten and tell him to keep the change.