White Ash MC (EN) T2 Mandy

The past few weeks have been insane. The foundations were finished, solid and on schedule before the end of March, and construction on the workshop is already underway.

My father signed off on every single one of my analyses, every decision I made. He even had his best analysts review them. Seeing the pride in his eyes just days before my departure is the greatest gift he could have given me.

Back in my duplex overlooking New York City, I let myself collapse onto the couch. My body gives up before my mind does.

Fuck... I haven’t given myself a real break in almost two years. It was worth every second. I wouldn’t change a thing. But I’m not old enough to have forgotten how to enjoy myself.

During my last week, I tackle the logistics of everything I won’t be able to replace once I’m in Canada. Everything else can be duplicated. No point hauling it across the border for nothing.

Most importantly, I party. Almost nonstop. Long goodbyes, one drink after another, laughter stretching far too late into the night. Friends, coworkers, family... Everyone gets their turn.

Let’s just say the self-imposed abstinence of the past few months is more than made up for in a handful of unapologetic nights. One rule only: never the same guy two nights in a row. I’m here to have fun, not to build chains that might keep me from moving forward.

I hear the moving crew loading my crates.

That still doesn’t get me out of bed. My hangover won’t even let me open my eyes.

— Whatever... they know their job.

I fall back asleep after swallowing an ibuprofen with a little water. Eventually, I’m dragged out of bed by my driver, personal assistant, and bodyguard. My shadow since I was fourteen.

Pete.

— Pete, less noise, please. You’re killing me...

He nods without a word, squeezes toothpaste onto my toothbrush, then proceeds to brush my teeth for me.

I know the drill by heart. I let him. After all, showing up with booze breath would be a bad look.

In under twenty minutes, my carry-on is ready: makeup, essential toiletries, all my devices and their chargers.

Thanks, Pete.

I drift off again and don’t wake up until we touch down.

I force my eyes open just enough to look halfway human. Then survival mode kicks in, and I slip on my oversized sunglasses.

A loud belch makes every head in the aisle turn toward me as we queue to get off the plane. I’m not apologizing. If I throw up, am I supposed to apologize for that too?

Too busy justifying my complete lack of social graces to myself, I catch:

— These Americans think they can get away with anything.

I don’t react.

But all the commotion reminds me that I completely forgot to talk to Sissi about where I’m staying. Honestly, her place or the White Ash clubhouse, I’m good with either. It’s only until the workshop is up and running.

My headache has eased up a little, but the moment the cabin door opens, not even my sunglasses can keep the sunlight from drilling straight into my brain.

I hear her before I see her, and I wrinkle my nose.

Hang in there, Mandy. You can do this.

— MANDYYYYYY!

Sissi throws herself into my arms. And just like that, every ache disappears. Pure joy takes its place.

We spin around, laughing. She buries her face in my long hair, as if she’s trying to remember my scent. I run my palm over the shaved side of her head. We both let out the same instinctive little moan.

A guy I’ve never seen before watches us with an amused smile. The way he looks at my friend leaves no room for doubt.

That’s Fire.

— Aren’t you going to introduce us?

If every biker looks like that, I seriously need to rethink my eating habits. I could totally have one for breakfast. Maybe two.

I shove the thought right back where it came from.

Bad timing.

— Mandy, meet Fire.

Sissi finally steps aside, still hanging onto me with one hand, and flashes him a radiant smile.

His eyes travel slowly from my head to my toes.

Fuck...

My best friend has excellent taste.

— Fire, this is Mandy. My Mandy.

Fire’s gaze shifts from Sissi to me, curious, amused, perfectly at ease. A crooked smile hints at a joke he’s about to make... and wisely decides against at the very last second.

— Nice to meet you, Mandy. But if you’re planning on monopolizing Sissi, we might have a problem. On the bright side, I’ve got plenty of brothers I can introduce you to as compensation.

Sissi gives him a playful punch on the shoulder.

Yeah.

Definitely...

Terrible timing.