Snowfall: A Slashes in the Snow Prequel Read online

  Snowfall: A Slashes in the Snow Prequel

  M. Never

  Snowfall: A Slashes in the Snow Prequel

  By M. Never

  Copyright 2019

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Gerard

  2. Kristen

  3. Gerard

  Sneak Peek at Slashes in the Snow

  More from M. Never at

  1

  Gerard

  There’s nothin’ hotter than a woman who drives a stick.

  Being a mechanic with an educated background in classic cars doesn’t usually dole out perks, but today, fate dealt me a sweet deal, ’cause I’m currently inspecting a 1995 Corvette with engine issues while checking out its owner — a dark-haired woman who’s pacing around me in six-inch, fuck-me-hard, stiletto heels and skintight pencil skirt. She’s like a high-fashion supermodel with edge, and I’m digging her hardcore.

  “So, what do you think it is?” she asks agitatedly, wringing her hands together.

  “Not sure, maybe a leak.” I wipe my greasy hands on a rag. “You’ll have to leave it here so I can give it a through once-over.”

  Her pretty face falls. She’s so perfect. So put together. So fucking far out of my league, but that’s never stopped me from flirting before. An uptown girl and a backstreet guy. Stranger things have happened.

  “It’ll only be for a little while, darlin’. No need for separation anxiety.” I shut the hood of the old Corvette. I wouldn’t exactly call it classic. More vintage. A sweet 1995 C4 with metallic black paint and white racing stripes. It’s sort of nostalgic and brings back memories from my early twenties. Cruising down the Las Vegas Strip, sewing whatever kind of trouble my boys and I could find.

  The woman in front of me doesn’t strike me as the muscle car type, but she clearly has a connection to this one.

  “I know it’s silly.” She laughs melodically. “It’s just, it’s my father’s car. We would work on it together. It’s the last thing I have left of him.”

  Well, damn.

  “You know about cars?” I inquire.

  “A bit. I just don’t have time to tinker around and figure out the problem myself.” She looks at her watch. A rose-gold thing with lots of sparkly diamonds.

  “Well, I definitely have the time to tinker,” I assure her, trying not to rip her clothes off with my eyes. She is some woman.

  “Thank you.” Her smile’s so genuine and so free she makes my stomach tingle like a teenager. A few other places on my body, too.

  I lead her back inside my shop to collect some information. Standard stuff.

  Name: Kristen Kendrick . . . pretty.

  Address: 2437 Pacific Coast Highway, Malibu, California . . . fancy.

  Phone number: 555-7315 . . . jackpot.

  “Well, Mrs. Kendrick—"

  “Ms. Kendrick,” she corrects.

  “Ms. Kendrick,” I repeat, trying to hide my smirk. My fishing worked. Single. Score. “I’ll get to work, see what I find, and get back to you as soon as possible.”

  “I appreciate that.” Kristen pulls out her phone just as one of my mechanics appears from the garage.

  “Gambit,” Moto calls my name. “Got a delivery outback, need you to sign.” He holds up a piece of paper.

  Kristen raises an eyebrow as I sign away my life.

  “Thanks, boss.” Moto splits. He’s a good kid from a bad neighborhood. Gifted mechanic, too. Been working here since he was sixteen. He’s close to twenty-four now.

  “Gambit?” Kristen comments. “That’s an interesting name.”

  I smile broadly. “Just a nickname.”

  “What’s your real name then?” She’s genuinely interested. And I am genuinely interested in giving her the answer. “Gerard. Gerard Parish.”

  “Well, it’s very nice to formally meet you, Gerard Parish.” Her voice is like a siren’s. Smooth and seductive as it puts me under a damn spell. “Please take good care of my baby.”

  “I promise I will.”

  Kristen turns to leave, and my stomach drops.

  I watch her like a stalker from behind the front desk as she types away on her phone and then stands outside waiting for something. Or someone. A ride, I surmise.

  Struck with a bout of beefy balls, I walk outside.

  “Need a ride somewhere?” I offer.

  Kristen turns towards me in the sunlight, and her entire face illuminates. It shimmers like a deity, and damn, do I ever want to worship.

  “No, thank you. I have an Uber coming.” She continues to smile.

  “It’s no trouble,” I push. Down boy. “If you don’t mind riding along with a greasy mechanic.” I lift my tatted hands. Years of stories are portrayed on my skin, up my arms, and along my torso.

  Kristen measures me up. She’s definitely analyzing me. I mean, the general rule is not to accept rides from a stranger, but I’m really hoping she’ll make an exception. I just want to spend a little more time with her.

  “It’ll save you money on Uber fare,” I toss in.

  “Uber fare?” she laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it called that.”

  “C’mon then.” I jerk my head, encouraging her. “I’ll see what else I can come up with to make you laugh.”

  Her dark eyes shimmer with deliberation. C’mon, c’mon, I silently urge her.

  “Okay,” she muses, continually sizing me up. “I can use some laughs.”

  “Me, too.” Up goes the ante.

  I steal glances of Kristen as we walk to the back of the building where my chopper is parked. Unfortunately for this ride, we’re going to have to take my pick-up. Not sure how’d she feel straddling my bike in a skirt that tight. Not that I’d mind watching the hem hike all way up to her ass.

  I clear my throat, and my mind, from the racing thoughts. This woman is seriously affecting me.

  I open the door for her and help her climb up into the front seat. She’s so proper and polite in all her mannerisms. She’s nothing like the women I’m used to dating. Well, fucking is more like it. I don’t think I’ve been on an actual date in years.

  No one has been worth my time. No one, until now.

  “Where to?” I turn the truck on and pop it into drive.

  “Home, please. I’ll direct you.”

  “I’m pretty familiar with the coastal highway. Just let me know when we’re getting close.”

  Kristen nods. “I can do that.”

  The Pacific Coast Highway is a gorgeous stretch of road with the most scenic views in the country, and Malibu is one of its destination gems. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve cruised the coastline on my Harley, breathing in the sea air, getting lost in hundreds of miles of pure freedom.

  “So, Gambit?” Kristen’s tone is curious and playful.

  “Yes,” I indulge her.

  “Where did that nickname come from?”

  “Picked it up as kid living in Vegas.”

  “That’s where you’re from?”

  “Born and raised, yeah. Grew up with a degenerate gambler for a father and a showgirl for a mother.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—"

  “No need for apologies, darlin’,” I stop her right there. “I made peace with my past years ago. Got my nickname ’cause my dad taught me to play poker at the ripe old age of four, and I’ve been playing ever since. Pretty good, too.” I wink.

  “Hence the name. You’re clever, I take it.”

  “When it comes to some things,” I confess wily.

  “I’ve noticed,” she smirks. Busted.

  “Not as subtle as I thought, huh?”

  “Just enough.” She doesn’t shred my e
go to pieces.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been in the company of an exceptional woman. Guess I just wanted prolong the inevitable a little longer.”

  “What’s the inevitable?”

  “Saying goodbye.”

  “You have my car. I would have been back,” she states the obvious.

  “Why wait till tomorrow when you can have it right now?” I shrug.

  Kristen bats her long, thick eyelashes at me.

  “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

  “Life’s short. Strike while the iron is hot,” I relay just as we pull to her house/condo-looking thing.

  “I admire your directness.” She reaches for the door handle.

  “Up for just a little more?” I delay her departure.

  Kristen turns her body toward me. I’m not sure what she does for a living, but I’m guessing it’s something important and high-profile, because as elegant and proper as she is, she is just as confident and commanding.

  “You have my attention.”

  “You’ve had my attention from the moment you walked into my shop.” I’m direct. “And I would really like to see you again.”

  “You are. You have my car,” she jokes. I appreciate her sense of humor.

  “I’d really like to take you out.” I clear my throat. This shit never gets easier. “For dinner, maybe, and a ride on my bike.”

  Her dark eyes grow wide and round.

  Rejected. Dumbass.

  “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”

  “Oh, well, I’m good at breaking cherries,” I toss out a snarky response.

  Kristen makes a funny face, then she bursts out laughing. It’s a glorious sound. One, I’m convinced, in a nanosecond, I’d never get tired of hearing.

  “I would love to go out with you.” She smiles so brilliantly I feel the warmth in my soul.

  “Tomorrow night?” Does that sound too desperate?

  Kristen looks down at her phone and scrolls through something.

  “The only night I have free this week is Friday. Would that work?”

  “You’re a busy woman?”

  “Insanely,” she sighs.

  “Friday it is. I’ll pick you up. I know where you live,” I tease.

  “It’s a date.” She slides out of the truck.

  “Yeah, it fucking is,” I mutter to myself as I watch her strut away in killer heels, a tight-ass skirt, and come-fuck-me curves.

  Dead man drooling.

  2

  Kristen

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I barely recognize myself.

  I wasn’t sure what one wore on a motorcycle date, so I took a stab in the dark.

  “Mom?” Kira, my daughter, startles me from behind.

  “I raided your closet.” I bite my lip, gazing at her through the mirror.

  “I see that.” She inspects my outfit. “But why?”

  “I have a date.”

  “With who? Jax Teller?”

  “Kind of. Are the leather pants too much? He’s taking me on a motorcycle.”

  Kira makes an astonished sound. “Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?”

  “I have no idea. It’s totally crazy.” I haven’t had a chance to talk to Kira much this week. With her being in school and my crazy work schedule, I’ve barely been able to send a how are you doing text. Kira is a grown-up now and fiercely independent. She can definitely take care of herself, and sometimes me as well. I couldn’t be prouder of the person she is. I couldn’t be more blessed to have her as a daughter and a best friend. We’ve been through the ringer, and somehow, we both came out okay. Kira better than okay.

  “He’s a mechanic. And a biker, I think. He’s got all these tattoos, and a salt-and-pepper five o’clock shadow, and he’s totally hot,” I describe Gerard to her.

  Kira just stares at me in disbelief.

  “Honey, can you say something?”

  “I’m completely speechless. A biker? Tattoos? Totally hot?”

  “I’m crazy. You’re right. I should cancel. I have no idea what a man like him would even see in a woman like me.” I pace my room.

  “Mom.” Kira grabs my arms. “Um, he probably sees a gorgeous, strong, successful woman. Like everyone else.”

  I stare into Kira’s big brown eyes. They’re so sincere. She’s so beautiful. I sometimes can’t believe she’s mine.

  “You think that’s what he sees?” I haven’t been out with a man since my violent divorce. And that was five years ago. The last thing I needed was another complicated relationship, or anyone else holding me down. I had a company to run, and I ran it, straight to the top. No one was going to stand in my way. But with that commitment and drive, certain things were sacrificed.

  Like intimacy. I couldn't tell you the last time I was with a man. I can’t even tally up how many years it’s been. I’m pretty sure my vagina is drier than the Sahara Desert. And that’s a depressing thought.

  A loud rumble outside my window gains our attention. Kira rushes to spy.

  “Oh my god, Mom,” she exclaims. I peek over her shoulder to see Gerard seated on a big black bike with high handles, dressed in a tight black shirt and blue jeans. A dark pair of sunglasses sitting on his face. “You’re right; he is hot. And the two of you match. How cute,” she mocks.

  I roll my eyes. I’m wearing a black shirt too, along with a pair of her moto boots. I definitely embraced biker chic.

  “I’ll get the door. You make a grand entrance.” She bounces out of my room.

  “Kira.”

  She’s way too excited.

  I hear Kira introducing herself to Gerard as I walk down the steps. Grand entrance, here I come.

  His face lights up as he watches me. I take it as a good sign. And goddamn, does he look gorgeous. His dark hair is styled back, his beard is trimmed, and his clothes look tailored to his body, which is broad and toned.

  God, I hope I’m ready for this.

  “Hey,” I muster.

  “Hey yourself.” Gerard is the epitome of cool. I wonder if he can tell how nervous I am?

  “You two kids have fun, and Mom, call to check in if you’re going to be home after eleven.” My daughter thinks she’s being cute, dredging up her old adolescent ground rules.

  I roll my eyes. “Smartass.” I kiss her on the head, grab my purse off the foyer table, and follow Gerard out the door.

  “Love you!” Kira chirps as she shuts the door behind us.

  “Cute kid,” Gerard comments as he places his dark sunglasses back on his face.

  “Yeah, she has her moments.” I smile. “Do you have any kids?” The question just rolls out.

  “One. A son, Kyle. Ky, we call him. He’s just a bit older than Kira.” He talks with such pride.

  “By the sound of it, you have a good relationship.”

  “Great one. He’s a good boy. Somehow, me and his quacky mother raised him right.” There’s sarcasm in his tone.

  I totally get it. I’ll never fathom how Kira turned out so wonderful with her father being who he is, but I refuse to look a gift horse in the mouth. I try not to worry about the past and instead focus my efforts on the future. Or, at the very least, the present.

  I gaze down at the machine Gerard is standing in front of proudly. I am so out of my element here.

  “Don’t looks so nervous, Kristen. I’m an expert rider.”

  “I’m worried about not being an expert passenger.”

  “Do you get motion sickness?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll be fine.” He hands me a black helmet after stowing my purse in a side compartment. I prepared for this, wearing my hair in a low ponytail.

  I secure the helmet on my head as Gerard does the same. It doesn’t cover my face, only protects the top and back of my head.

  It isn’t unbearable at all.

  “First lesson.” Gerard throws his leg over the seat. “Sit here and hold on.”

  I stare blankly at hi
m. “I’m not sure I can handle all that instruction at once.”

  He beams. “I have full faith in you, darlin’.” He pats the leather. I take a breath and mimic his motion, throwing my leg over the seat. There is barely any room, and my arms move straight to his torso for support.

  “Perfect. You’re a natural.” Gerard glances back at me as he turns on the engine. My whole body vibrates, from head to toe. Holy shit.

  “So, what are the plans?” I ask bravely. I have no idea where this night is going to take us, but secretly I hope someplace good.

  “A ride, then dinner, and if you’re up for it, another ride.” He pulls away from the sidewalk, and all my muscles tense.

  Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

  After a few minutes, my body relaxes, adjusting to the open feeling of wind all around me. It’s all new and exciting. Invigorating, terrifying, and uplifting all at the same time. Freeing.

  All my senses are stimulated as we drive down the winding coast. I inhale the smell of the salt air mixed with Gerard’s spicy aftershave while the rev of the motorcycle’s engine echoes in my ears and the soft feel of his shirt contrasts against the hard ridges of muscle beneath my fingertips.

  I can’t remember the last time I felt so many favorable things at once. But I’m soaking up every second I can, because I know moments like this are fleeting, and for me, for many years, nonexistent.

  The ride is over all too soon as we pull up to what looks like a rehabbed farmhouse atop a cliff.

  “This looks quaint,” I hum as I remove my helmet.

  “It is. Best Cajun cocktails and fish tacos around.” Gerard dismounts the bike and escorts me to the door. For such a rugged man, he has plenty of gentlemanly qualities.

  The inside of the restaurant is a rustic-chic. Natural wood makes up the family-style tabletops, and a beautiful tile pattern is laid out beneath our feet.

  But it’s the view on the deck that’s completely breathtaking. The sun hovering over the water has the current illuminating with pinks and blues and golds.