Page 19 of Rogue’s Path (Sweet Chaos #1)

Dylan

“Are you really going for coffee when you have a cup in your hand right now?” Cordelia spins the mini cake around, and suddenly, a flower forms on the top. Her technique appears flawless.

Oh, a bakery murder…that sounds like a cozy mystery.

“I can always drink another cup.”

“You mean you can go see if Rogue is around to kiss.”

“That’s not all we do—I mean, that’s not all I do at the cafe.”

She laughs. “Isn’t it, though? What are you doing with this guy? He’s FINE. I don’t blame you at all for kissing him. But is that all it is, a little game, then you’re going to walk away when you leave town?”

A game? I’ve called it that before in my head. “How can it be anything else? He’s a biker.” There’s no way I’m going to put on leather and take up the lifestyle.

Cordelia sets the icing bag down. “He’s a man first and foremost.”

I get that. His kisses reinforce that every time I see him. “That doesn’t make him not part of a biker gang.”

“They’re a motorcycle club. It’s not like they’re an outlaw club. From what I’ve heard around town, Children of Chaos is made up of law-abiding, upstanding members of the community.”

Really? Never have I heard of a club that’s completely law-abiding.

“Is it the cut on his back or the man you’re afraid of?”

Both. “He doesn’t seem all that interested in me. What if this is all he wants? A few clandestine kisses and to go on his merry way.”

“Clandestine kisses.” She giggles. “Are you sure you don’t write romance? Maybe a romantic thriller or two?”

“There has never been a romance plotline in any of my books.”

“Maybe you should add one.” She picks up a green icing bag, and her hands float around creating beauty again.

“You aren’t going to tell me to date him?”

“Pshht. No. Don’t date a man who doesn’t want to date you. Or better yet, don’t date. Find your passion in life and live the way you want to, free of any man’s dictates.”

There seems to be a story there, but I have problems enough of my own to try to invade my friend's privacy.

Unless she decides to share more than her fantastic cakes…

“So I was thinking we might attend the Friday night market and then the movie in the park. Restaurants from counties all around us set up booths, there are treats of every kind, live music, and the night ends with a movie in the park. It sounds cheesy—"

“The best kind of cheesy. I’d love to go.” A sweet little night market would make a great murder scene. Or maybe the body is in the park. There are tons of dark, eerie paths at night in parks.

***

He’s not coming. That’s all there is to it.

You’ve been sitting here for five hours now, and he hasn’t shown.

It’s time to give up.

If you sit here any longer, you’re going to float away from all the water you drank. At least I won’t be floating away on my tears. I don’t cry over stuff like this…

Especially not bad boys that don’t turn up when you want them to.

There are plenty of men in the world who kiss exceptionally well. I’ll just find one of them to kiss. Taylor seems like the type to excel at it. There’s no way that if he actually kissed me, that I’d feel nothing.

When he gets back, I’ll have to test out my theory. A bad boy biker doesn’t have special lips or something.

Special lips…I would make a terrible romance writer. The worst.

Is that him? The jacket’s right. It’s hard to miss a metal butterfly on leather.

It’s not him. The body is wrong. This guy is a big bear…He turns around. It’s the bear guy I talked to in the honky-tonk. Ugh. If he sees me, I might die of embarrassment.

The bear guy turns in my direction.

Maybe, he won’t recognize me without the wild outfit and makeup.

His beard wiggles, and he steps out of line.

It’s too late for me to make a mad dash out the door. I’m just going to have to brazen it out. “Hello.”

He sits down on the chair I was hoping Rogue would use. “Hello. Buy me a drink.”

Okay, bear man is kind of cute. “Sure.” How can a man in a motorcycle club be cute? It’s probably against their bylaws or something.

Do they even have laws? Isn’t being lawless the point of joining a motorcycle club?

“You live around here? Cause I don’t remember seeing you around before.” He shrugs out of the leather jacket, which does nothing to make him look any smaller. This guy is a mountain of muscle. If the floor wasn’t cement, I bet it would shake with every step he took.

“No, I’m in town visiting a friend.”

“One of the women from the other night?” He twists his body until I have his undivided attention.

“Yes. Cordelia. She makes the cakes they serve here.”

“The cake lady?” His eyes widen as his whole body moves back. “You know the cake lady?”

“Um. Yeah.” Is that a bad thing? Because she’s such a nice person.

“No.” He shakes his head. “She just never talks to anyone. And she’s really picky about who she sells her cakes to. We’ve tried to order some for the club, and she always says no.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing personal.” It totally would be for me. There’s no way I would go alone to deliver cakes to a bunch of outlaw bikers. Who knows what would happen?

A lone woman goes into a biker clubhouse never to be seen again. They have a video recording of her leaving, but she was never found again.

Thriller… That would definitely end up being a thriller. “She’s a small business.” There’s no way I’m telling this man she lives alone, no matter how much my gut says he’s a teddy bear.

“True. And I don’t mind coming here to get my fix. Have you tried her cannoli cake?”

That sounds fabulous. “No, not yet.” But now I want to.

The waitress sets down three slices of cake and a cup of black coffee.

Who drinks coffee this late in the evening? “Thank you for acting as security for us.”

“You knew?” He lifts his fork.

“Not then. But yeah. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” He breaks off a huge piece. “About that night, you said something that concerned me.”

Oh, no. “It was nothing.”

“You remember?”

How could I forget? “Yeah, I never got that drunk.” Though it was close. “Please ignore my nutty chatter. It was a long night.”

“You sounded very sure that you had a stalker.”

Lie. Keep it simple. But lie. “I was mixing alcohols. It makes me a little crazy.”

He relaxes. “You probably had an exceptional hangover to go with that bruise.”

Oh yeah. “It was terrible.”

“Glad to hear that. Not that you had a migraine, but that you’re safe.” He means that. “Are you staying in town for a while?” The massive bite of cake disappears into the cavern of his mouth.

“Probably.”

“Friday night, there is this community event. It’s dinner and a movie outside.”

Is he doing what I think he is? What is with men suddenly asking me out all the time?

“Would you like to go with me?”

Yeah. He did it. “Um. I kind of already made plans to go with my friend.”

“Oh, okay.” His whole face falls like a puppy that had his treat taken away.

“You could meet us there if you’d like.” Why did I do that? I don’t need to be sort of but not really dating two men while kissing another. But he looked so sad.

“I’ll be there. My name is Bear. What’s yours?”

BEAR? His name is really Bear? I mean, that’s not his legal name or anything. Motorcycle clubs have street names or whatever they’re called. It’s torture to hold the giggle in. “My name is Dylan.”

“Nice to meet you, Dylan. Have some cake and tell me about yourself.”