Game Changer (Hell's Saints Motorcycle Club) by Paula Marinaro Page B

see her family. I was still full, but we had been hiking a couple of miles and the beer and the cookies went down easy. The cookies tasted like that summer at the lake, and I brought my head down to Prosper’s shoulder. We sat in the warm sunshine, my head on his shoulder and his arm around me.
    I wanted to give him something, so I took out my little harp. The look of pleasure in his eyes when he saw it made my heart sing. I played a few little tunes for him, shy at first. When he clapped and cheered with suspiciously bright eyes after the first round, I really started to show off. Like he had taught me to do, he carried his own music wherever he went, so he reached into his pocket and we played together. I had never been prouder when there came a moment, on that perfect sun filled blue sky day, that the student became the teacher. I taught Prosper a couple of new harmonies of some old songs that I knew had been his favorites. The strong clear joining of our voices singing Arcapella in perfect harmony filled me with the most perfect bit of contentment that I had ever known. For the first time in a long time, I was really happy.
    It was late afternoon when we walked back into the compound. Diego was sitting with a bunch of the guys in the yard. When he saw Prosper and I walk in from the woods, he raised his head and watched us approach. It had been a wonderful afternoon filled with good memories, homemade cookies, perfectly sung music and well, love. A perfect day, really. Because I was still feeling that and I was sick of being at the receiving end of Diego’s petal pulling game of “I love her, I love her not,” I met Diego’s eyes from across the field and smiled, big wide and happily at him.
    Let’s see what he does with that, I thought wickedly.
    The response lifted him off his chair. I just couldn’t figure him out, but just then I wanted to be happy, so I let myself be.
    Diego nodded to Prosper, then put his arm around me. “Good day, babe?” He pulled me close.
    “The best.” I answered, because I was still feeling it. And because he was being nice again and I wanted to go with that.
    Prosper did a back hand wave as he walked away from us.
    “You up for a ride?” Diego was asking me.
    I nodded happily because this was definitely going to be my day. I loved motorcycles and the thought of being on the back of Diego’s excited me. He took my hand and led me to the bike. Then he passed me the helmet. I tried to put it on but the heavy bun in back of my head was in the way. So I unpinned my hair, and shook it out. Then I dipped my head back and ran my fingers through it. I pulled the heavy strands all to the side and began to weave it into a braid. I dipped my fingers into my pocket and pulling out the cloth covered rubber band that I always kept on me for hair emergencies. I heard the sound of someone clearing his throat and looked to the picnic area where the eight guys who Diego had just left, were all sitting in absolute silence staring at me.
    I looked at Diego. To my surprise he just looked at me and smirked.
    “Damn fucking wet dream.” He murmured. Then he said, “You good, Raine?”
    I nodded and pulled my leg over the bike, adjusted the helmet and wrapped my arms around him.
    We roared out of there and I held on tight. The beautiful day was turning into an equally beautiful dusk with red and deep blue streaks shooting across the sky. The wind was fresh and cool against my skin. Diego was a great driver and I was an experienced rider so our bodies dipped and straightened, weight shifting in harmony. It felt like a dance. Along the way, he would slow down and point out little things that he thought might interest me.
    Eventually we pulled into a little cantina. He took my hand and pulled me along behind him. Once inside, he pushed me in front of him, his hand guiding me by the small of my back. A pretty, young, obviously pregnant woman smiled when she saw him. He said something to her in Spanish that