Thirteen (Love by Numbers Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

handle and the other fisted in his lap, knuckles white.
    “Does my driving make you nervous?
    “Does the Tin-Man have a sheet metal cock?”
    I glance in his direction, a smile curling my mouth, “You’re funny when you’re scared. I like it.”
    He just stares straight ahead, gripping the door handle tighter while I take a bend at breakneck speed. He really shouldn’t worry; Clarabelle can handle my lead foot. She likes to be tested.
    “So, tell me something about yourself, and before you answer, make it something nobody else knows. I don’t want your age, your occupation or where you live. Give me something juicy.”
    “Juicy?” I feel his eyes flick over to me before they return to the road when I take a sharp bend.
    “Yeah, juicy. For instance, I once let my twin sister, Nicola, take the blame for me when a friend of the family saw me drinking underage in the pub with a gang of bikers. She got grounded for a month. Still holds it against me to this day.”
    This gets his attention and his head snaps towards me. “You went drinking with a gang of bikers? Like Hell’s Angels?”
    I shift down a gear as we approach the turn in the country road that I need to take to get to my favourite pub.
    “Hah! Not really, well kind of. They’re called The Riots and their Prez is a really cool guy called Bear.”
    I let Clarabelle weave her way through the tight country lane, a lane I know like the back of my hand and look over at Harry. He looks a little green and I can’t tell if it’s to do with my driving or my story. Maybe both.
    “Your turn to share. Give me juicy, Harry.”
    The car is silent for a moment as he thinks of what to say.
    Just as I slow down enough to pull into the car park of what looks like the quintessential, English, country pub, complete with whitewashed walls and lovely hanging baskets filled with flowers, he speaks, “I stole a girl from my best friend, Jake, once. Well, when I say stole, I mean…”
    He trails off as I pull into the rear car park, the one that is concealed from the road. His eyes widen as he takes in all the bikes.
    “What. The. Fuck?”
    I pull into the spot right next to the pub that is always kept empty for me and turn off Clarabelle’s engine.
    I know I’m being mean, throwing him to the sharks, seeing as we’ve only just met but this is a big deal for me.
    I’m not the kind of girl to pick up random blokes at school fetes and take them for a ride. I’ve only been with one man, and that man ended up my husband.
    My lying, cheating, waste of space, husband.
    So I hope he forgives me for taking him to one of the few places I hold dear. A place where I’m accepted, loved and never told what I can or cannot achieve.
    I turn a little to face him, watching as his eyes rove over the mass of Harley’s, Triumph’s, Norton’s and other mean machines.
    Panic is written all over his face when he turns to me and rushes out, “I’ve seen Son’s of Anarchy, I know what happened to Half Sack, and I have no intention of becoming anyone’s old lady.”
    I shouldn’t laugh, I really shouldn’t laugh, but it bubbles up, erupting from my throat like a volcano. His pitiful expression is not helping me curb my giggles.
    “We’re just going for a drink; nothing bad happens here. It’s just a pub, I swear.”
    He looks at me unbelievingly, and my next words pop out before I can think better of it, “The bad shit happens in that old storage unit at the back of the car park.”
    He goes completely white, his eyes focussing over my shoulder on the tatty old building that takes up the far corner of the property. It’s just an old storage shed, the guys work on their bikes in there, but you’d swear I’d just told him it’s a murder factory.
    “I’m kidding, I promise, I’m kidding.” I place a hand on his leg in apology, meaning to soothe him. “I’m sorry, Harry. Sometimes I need a filter. My mouth opens before my brain catches up.”
    He looks at me, really looks at