Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn

18

Charlotte

I was a reasonably self-aware person. I knew I was attractive. And I also knew when a guy was checking me out, which Jayce had totally been doing for the last few days when he thought I wasn’t looking. At a bare minimum, he was attracted to me. Our almost-kiss wasn’t just a spur of the moment kind of thing. We both wanted it. I could feel it in the way he held my cheek and leaned toward me, heat radiating off his bare chest. He was only seconds from ripping my clothes off and taking me on the judge’s soft grass.

So I was really confused about his rejection.

The rest of the work day was as awkward as could be. Jayce’s grey t-shirt was soaked with sweat, but he kept it on, as if his bare chest were to blame for what had happened. Like the male-equivalent of a girl being scolded for showing too much cleavage and distracting the boys.

But even with the shirt on, Jayce was sexy. Tremendously sexy. Ridiculously sexy, in a way that stirred my desire just from watching him swing a hammer. Rugged and strong, the way a man should be.

God, I wanted him to kiss me. It was all I could think about.

Did it have to do with the Copperheads? Like yesterday in front of Sid, he was afraid of showing any kind of affection for me? That they might be watching and then use me to get to him?

That made no sense. Nobody was around for miles. We were alone together.

It was stupid.

But Jayce was quiet and brooding while we made our way along the fence, and I was too embarrassed by his rejection to bring it up.

The first thing he said to me all afternoon was on the ride home. “You want me to drop you off at the motel so you don’t have to walk?”

“Sure.”

He pulled up to the motel and parked the truck. Suddenly I remembered something.

“Hey! Stay here a sec.”

I ran inside and came back out with his jacket. I leaned across the passenger seat to hand it to him. He took it and held it up.

“Forgot all about it.”

“Me too,” I admitted. “Should’ve given it to you days ago.”

We locked eyes for a few seconds. A moment passed between us.

“Hey, Peaches?” he said.

“Yeah?”

He stared at me for a long, silent moment. Did he regret not kissing me earlier? Was he going to make up for it now?

“See you tomorrow.” He punctuated it with a warm smile that simultaneously made everything better and only confused me further.

I went to the lobby to get dinner. Billy was sound asleep behind the desk, and woke with a jerk when the door closed shut behind me. “Good morning,” I said.

Billy practically fell out of his chair. “It’s… huh?” He looked out the window. “What time is it?”

“Just a joke,” I said as I got a microwavable burrito and Diet Coke out of the cooler.

To his credit, he actually chuckled. “Aw, hell. You got me good. Almost scared me half to death. Sheriff said if he caught me sleepin’ again he’d find an excuse to throw me in the jail ‘til I’m old enough to drink.”

“Sorry.” I put the food on the counter and sighed. “All right. About that weekly discount.”

His smile spread slowly across his face. “Ah hah!”

Back in my room I opened my laptop and used the insanely slow motel internet to do some research on the Copperheads. Their official Wikipedia page called them The Georgia Copperhead Motorcycle Club. There were only two paragraphs, one detailing their founding in the eighties, and another explaining their notable run-ins with the law. I went back to Google and found a Facebook group for the Macon Police Department with a post about the Copperheads dated from twenty seventeen. Several residents complained about the motorcycles riding into their town in the middle of the night, causing a ruckus at the local restaurants and bars, and picking fights. Other posts complained about the lack of police attention to the issue. At the bottom was a canned response from the Macon Police Department saying they take the matter very seriously and are looking into it.

There wasn’t much else on the internet to find. Even less when I tried to look up Sid himself. Turns out psychopathic motorcycle dudes didn’t post on Instagram or TikTok.

It was getting dark out, and my microwavable burrito was looking less and less appealing the more I stared at it. Finally, I put it in the mini fridge and went back to the lobby.

“Say, Billy,” I said in my friendliest tone. “You’re my best friend here, did you know that?”

He squinted suspiciously at me. “Uh huh.”

“You want to give me a ride into town?”

He blew air out his nose. “I don’t got my license. Get dropped off and picked up here. Gonna get my learner’s permit next month, though!” he added cheerfully.

It was a nice night, so I decided to brave the dark road and walk. There was a cool breeze which blew off the humidity, and the forest was a chorus of chirping birds and insects. It reminded me of my parents’ house, where I grew up. We didn’t have these wild forest sounds in Savannah, and I hadn’t realized I’d missed them until now.

I was halfway to main street when I heard a single motorcycle approaching from behind.

I felt a moment of panic as I moved to the ditch. What if it was a Copperhead? They might leave me alone, but then again… I could run and hide in the woods on the other side of the ditch. Better safe than sorry, especially for a girl all alone on a backwater Georgia road.

Indecision kept me from running, and then the rider was close enough that it was too late for me to run. The lone headlight blinded me as it approached, shielding the rider from view. As it slowed down, I said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t end up on the local news in the morning: girl disappears because she didn’t want to eat her burrito.

But the man on the bike had flowing dark hair, and wore a surprised grin on his handsome face as he stopped next to me.

“You look lost, Peaches,” Jayce’s voice rumbled along with the motorcycle engine.

Thank goodness it’s him, I thought, for more reasons than one. “Heading into town for dinner.”

Jayce patted the saddle behind him. “I’m going that way. Hop on.”

My heart was still thumping in my chest from the fear that he was a Copperhead, so I climbed onto the back without hesitation. I didn’t know what to do with my hands—I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before—so I placed them gently on his shoulders.

I felt him shake with laughter more than I heard it. “You’re gonna need to hold on better than that, Peaches. I don’t ride slow.”

When I still hesitated, he reached behind him and took my hands in his. He wrapped them around his midsection, pulling my arms forward until my entire chest was pressed against his broad back.

“Hold on tight.”

The bike roared to life and shot away so fast that I almost fell off the back, even with my arms wrapped around Jayce’s body. I gripped him tighter, feeling the brick-like abs underneath his tight black t-shirt. The bike vibrated between my legs, a steady shaking that instantly put a smile on my face.

So this is why girls like bikers.

It wasn’t a long ride into town, but it was so much fun that I wished we were driving for miles. It was strangely intimate: my thighs against his thighs, my chest against his back, and stray strands of his hair blowing gently into my face. He smelled incredible, like oil and smoke and spicy, clean deodorant. I couldn’t place it, but I kept inhaling the scent as we drove down the road.

When we rounded the corner onto the main street, he reached between his legs and shifted something that was wedged underneath his leg. I craned my head around him to look. A bouquet of flowers stuck out, purple and red and pink, wrapped in protective plastic.

A pang of jealousy stabbed me in the chest. “Who are those for?” I shouted over the roar of the engine.

“Nobody.”

“Oh, you bought them for yourself, then?”

He chuckled at that, but didn’t answer.

He has a girlfriend. That explained why he didn’t kiss me. I was relieved at the realization, but also a little disappointed.

It doesn’t matter. I’m only stuck here for three weeks.

The diner appeared on the right, and he slowed down and rode over onto the side of the road. His boots planted on the ground to balance the bike as it stopped.

“Here ya go,” he said.

With regret, I peeled my arms off him and stepped off the bike. My legs were slightly numb from the vibrations. “Thanks,” I said, wishing I could go on a longer ride with him. If only I had the courage to ask for it.

I should say something, I thought as I stood there. Break the ice about our almost-kiss.

Before I could, Jayce said, “Night, Peaches,” and drove away.

I watched him go, bike rumbling onto the road much slower than before. Then he turned down the dirt road into the woods, the same one I’d seen him ride down the other night. His bike’s headlight made the trees flicker into and then out of view.

Where are you going, Jayce?

I glanced at the diner, then back at the dirt road. My curiosity was so strong that food could wait.