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shaking hands together meeting Cades eyes, giving him my best snooty bitch stare.
    “Well, well we have a feisty one here.” One of the men drawled. He was huge and tan with a bald head, reminding me a lot of ‘The Rock’ but a bit more rough round the edges.
    “No need for the sass darling, we just seen you are new in town and thought we would come and introduce ourselves, maybe we could buy you a drink, even that girly shit.” The Rock gestured to our Cosmos.
    “We are quite alright thank you, getting acquainted with the towns friendly motorcycle gang isn’t really on our to do list, and I don’t drink hooch Rambo, or whatever motor oil you think that passes for alcohol.” Amy smiled sweetly. “You have a nice night now.” Acid dripped from tone.
    She turned her head to me and remained picking at the remnants of her dinner, acting as if the four (albeit beautiful) brutes were not still standing right in front of our table, dripping testosterone all over the place.
    During Amy and Dwayne’s (I christened him this) conversion, Cades eyes had been on me the whole time, registering my fidgety movements and panicked stare. A frown marred his attractive face, I could only stare back and him, feeling a strange mixture of attraction and fear.
    “Gwen.” He spoke my name roughly and my pesky body reacted, the shivers returning.
    “How do you know my name?” I squeaked, sounding like a scared child.
    He continued to stare like I was some puzzle he couldn’t figure out.  “Not much gets past me sweetheart, especially something like you,” His gaze pierced my skin. I wanted to squirm, the attraction between us palpable. I managed to regain my wits when my eyes caught the ‘Vice President’ badge on his cut.
    “You’re a regular Sherlock Homes. Well if you’ll excuse us, I just lost my appetite.” I replied acidly, and somewhat unsteadily got to my feet. Amy followed suit. I reached into my purse, grabbing what I knew was far too much and threw it on the table.
    “Enjoy your night boys.” I muttered, before flipping my hair, and did my best (I had maybe one too many cosmos) to strut towards the door.
    We made it to the parking lot and Amy was decidedly silent, either figuring out what kind of emotional state I was in and how to deal with me, or contemplating how hot all those men were. I was hoping for the latter. Unluckily for me, she had about three less cosmos than I did.
    “Well.” Amy started carefully while fishing for her keys. “That was, an interesting end to the night. Bikers, who would have thought?”
    “Yep, well this is America, there is probably some small time gang of Sons of Anarchy wannabes in every ho dunk town.” I replied, going for flippant.
    Amy wasn’t buying it, giving me a look across the car.
    “I’m fine okay Ames? I’m not going to have a fucking mental breakdown because some guys said three words to us, have some faith.” I snapped.
    “Okay girl.” She unlocked the door and paused. “They were pretty fine.”
    Now I was the one to give her a look.
    “You know for bad ass lowlifes.” She carried on. “I would totally do Dwayne Johnson.”
    My head snapped up. “Oh my god he seriously could be ‘The Rock.’”
    We both burst out laughing, the tension from the exchange with the bikers disappearing.
     
    I tossed and turned in bed sleep eluding me. The meeting with the three sexy bikers, and one in particular had brought up issues that were already simmering just below the surface. I grumbled, picking up my phone, 2.05am, great. Knowing I would never get to sleep I threw back my covers and wrapped my kick ass silk kimono around my nightie clad body.
    I crept downstairs as not to wake Amy, although I didn’t know why I bothered that girl slept like the dead. I should know after trying to wake her up early every year for New York Fashion Week. I grabbed a soft afghan off the couch and poured myself a glass of wine, or happiness as I liked to think of it. I stepped