Read Online Longest Night (New Adult Biker Gang Romance) (Night Horses MC Book 1) by Sarah Sorana - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Sorana
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me.”
I gaped at him.
“Are you serious?” I said.
I brandished the handkerchief at him, covered in snot and tears and mascara, crumpled.
“I thought we were having a nice moment!” I said. “I thought ‘hey, he sees a teenage girl at a truck stop in the middle of the night, but he’s not being a lech, people can surprise you’ but you’re… you’re… ugh!”
I tossed the handkerchief at his head and giggled at his startled face. I couldn’t help myself.
“I’m sorry!” I said. “I shouldn’t have done that!”
I couldn’t help but keep giggling, though. He looked so indignant, his mouth a dark O in his shadowed face.
Finally, he laughed. Threw his head back and let loose a real guffaw.
“I deserved that,” he said. “Flirtin’ with you when you’ve had such a shitty night.”
He stood up and reached a hand down to me.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you fed and take you home.”
I reached up and took the hand he offered me. My body thrilled at the touch of a warm male palm against my own slender hand, at the heat and strength of him.
He pulled me up easily and set me on my feet.
“Pretty dress,” he said.
I looked down and made a face, smoothing it out over my thighs. It had been a pretty dress, before I’d tripped. Now, it was the sad, muddy remnants of a pretty dress. I’d loved the delicate floral embroidery on the pale green. It made my eyes look brighter and my hair look awesome. Touches of gold in the threads winked and shimmered.
Even my mother, who had probably worn Doc Martins and jeans to her own prom, had told me that it was a beautiful dress.
“Thanks,” I said, glumly.
I held up my little gold clutch.
“Eggs?” I asked. I only had five bucks, but surely that would buy some eggs and toast at the diner.
He nodded and headed into the truck stop. We turned towards the diner, and sat in a booth right by the counter.
The light seemed harsh after the murky outside.
It didn’t flatter him.
He’d pulled up his hood, but I could still see the ugly bruise and the nasty scar. Without those, he would have been jaw-droppingly handsome. With them, he was captivating. Mysterious. Bad news.
He pushed a menu at me from the table.
“My treat.”
I shook my head. “I can pay.”
“Yeah, but I’m telling you you don’t have to. Order what you want or I’ll just get three of the most expensive platters they have.”
“A waffle,” I said. “I could murder a waffle. And eggs. Maybe some sausage.”
We ended up getting two of the biggest platters they had anyways.
“It’ll be a while,” the waitress said. “Chef’s asleep. I’ll go yell at him.”
We shrugged.
“Nowhere better to be right now, ma’am,” the guy said. I still didn’t know his name.
“How’d you get those?” I asked, nodding at him after the woman left, yawning.
“Don’t pull any punches, do you?” he asked.
“Well, I mean, I could pretend that they weren’t there. That would be the polite thing to do, right? But fuck it, it’s three AM on what was supposed to be my goddamn prom night.”
He leaned up and gently pressed a finger into the fresh bruise without wincing.
“This one? You should see the other guy,” he said. “Friendly fight between buddies. Took a few punches, threw a few punches, pounded our chests.”
His smile left his face as he absently stroked the scar.
“This one… I hope you never meet the other guy. Or anyone like him. I didn’t come off so good in that fight.”
“So, both fighting scars?” I asked. “Not, like, car wrecks?”
He shook his head and held out a wrist, pulling up the leather to show off a faded burn on his arm.
“This one’s from an engine,” he said. “Idiot new guy pushed me when I was working. Thought he was being funny. That count?”
I
I gaped at him.
“Are you serious?” I said.
I brandished the handkerchief at him, covered in snot and tears and mascara, crumpled.
“I thought we were having a nice moment!” I said. “I thought ‘hey, he sees a teenage girl at a truck stop in the middle of the night, but he’s not being a lech, people can surprise you’ but you’re… you’re… ugh!”
I tossed the handkerchief at his head and giggled at his startled face. I couldn’t help myself.
“I’m sorry!” I said. “I shouldn’t have done that!”
I couldn’t help but keep giggling, though. He looked so indignant, his mouth a dark O in his shadowed face.
Finally, he laughed. Threw his head back and let loose a real guffaw.
“I deserved that,” he said. “Flirtin’ with you when you’ve had such a shitty night.”
He stood up and reached a hand down to me.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you fed and take you home.”
I reached up and took the hand he offered me. My body thrilled at the touch of a warm male palm against my own slender hand, at the heat and strength of him.
He pulled me up easily and set me on my feet.
“Pretty dress,” he said.
I looked down and made a face, smoothing it out over my thighs. It had been a pretty dress, before I’d tripped. Now, it was the sad, muddy remnants of a pretty dress. I’d loved the delicate floral embroidery on the pale green. It made my eyes look brighter and my hair look awesome. Touches of gold in the threads winked and shimmered.
Even my mother, who had probably worn Doc Martins and jeans to her own prom, had told me that it was a beautiful dress.
“Thanks,” I said, glumly.
I held up my little gold clutch.
“Eggs?” I asked. I only had five bucks, but surely that would buy some eggs and toast at the diner.
He nodded and headed into the truck stop. We turned towards the diner, and sat in a booth right by the counter.
The light seemed harsh after the murky outside.
It didn’t flatter him.
He’d pulled up his hood, but I could still see the ugly bruise and the nasty scar. Without those, he would have been jaw-droppingly handsome. With them, he was captivating. Mysterious. Bad news.
He pushed a menu at me from the table.
“My treat.”
I shook my head. “I can pay.”
“Yeah, but I’m telling you you don’t have to. Order what you want or I’ll just get three of the most expensive platters they have.”
“A waffle,” I said. “I could murder a waffle. And eggs. Maybe some sausage.”
We ended up getting two of the biggest platters they had anyways.
“It’ll be a while,” the waitress said. “Chef’s asleep. I’ll go yell at him.”
We shrugged.
“Nowhere better to be right now, ma’am,” the guy said. I still didn’t know his name.
“How’d you get those?” I asked, nodding at him after the woman left, yawning.
“Don’t pull any punches, do you?” he asked.
“Well, I mean, I could pretend that they weren’t there. That would be the polite thing to do, right? But fuck it, it’s three AM on what was supposed to be my goddamn prom night.”
He leaned up and gently pressed a finger into the fresh bruise without wincing.
“This one? You should see the other guy,” he said. “Friendly fight between buddies. Took a few punches, threw a few punches, pounded our chests.”
His smile left his face as he absently stroked the scar.
“This one… I hope you never meet the other guy. Or anyone like him. I didn’t come off so good in that fight.”
“So, both fighting scars?” I asked. “Not, like, car wrecks?”
He shook his head and held out a wrist, pulling up the leather to show off a faded burn on his arm.
“This one’s from an engine,” he said. “Idiot new guy pushed me when I was working. Thought he was being funny. That count?”
I
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