Whether it’s a GRAND slam, the GRAND Canyon, or a GRAND dame, the #1lineWed theme for today is **GRAND**. Here’s a snippet from Digger’s story, from the heroine’s POV.
I was the world’s biggest fool, but I’d been thinking about it since leaving Full Throttle that afternoon. The manager of the loan company looked like a nice lady—a pregnant one at that. The biker who’d come out? He was sexy as hell but all about his old lady. He was scary but so protective of her that it made my heart hurt. What would it feel like to be that loved? They were making a family. I was making war. It had been a sobering thought, one that stuck with me all day.
Driving more or less on autopilot, I headed to the convenience store. A plan was forming in the back of my mind. A stupid plan, but it was a plan. At the store, I picked up a suitcase of cold beer. My brain decided a frontal assault was the best idea and rather than a Trojan horse, I’d use a 24-pack of beer to get through the gate.
I pulled up across the road from the gate, which was open, but two guys were lounging there looking all badass and cool. They pretended not to notice me while I pretended not to study them, the gate, and the compound. There were motorcycles lined up in the forecourt but I didn’t see any bikers beyond the two on gate duty. Did I take a chance and try to smuggle my pistol inside? In the grand scheme of things, the weapon wouldn’t really matter. I slipped my Glock under the front seat, made sure the hilt of my combat knife was well below the top of my left boot, and stepped out the car.
Making a show off bending over the reach back into Mitch’s truck, I hoped the guards were checking out my butt. My baby-doll tee shirt rode up showing a band of skin above the black leather belt looped through my low-rider jeans. I’d made sure that belt was loose enough my jeans rode down over my butt showing a hint of red lace. I owned one set of sexy underwear—the red lace bra and bikinis I’d worn on my first foray into Nightrider territory. Supressing the shiver the memory of that night conjured, I clamped down on my libido. I wasn’t here for a hand job or a quickie.
I straightened, the beer cradled in my arms. My boobs were barely a B cup so I used the suitcase to plump me up. If they were checking out my T&A, maybe they wouldn’t recognize my face.
“Hey,” I called as I crossed the road.
“Yo,” the tallest of the two guys said.
Decision time. Did I ask for Bricks or for Gravedigger? I flipped a mental coin. “Is…Gravedigger around?”
The men exchanged looks and I wondered if I’d messed up. I juggled the package of beer which jiggled my breasts, bringing their eyes back to my chest. “I owe him some beer,” I added, pasting what I hoped was a sexy smile on my face.
One guy put a cell phone to his ear while saying, “What’s your name, babe?”
Dare I give another fake name? Neither of them were on the gate the night of the party, but that one guy knew who I was. I probably shouldn’t chance it. “People call me Shy,” I said.
Poor Shy. She has some real issues and what happens next will rock her world to the core. Which why I love writing romance. Do any of you have some grand words to share?