Page 77 of Ravaged For You

“I did tell myself I’d say yes to more things this year,” she whispers. “Although dying by riding a motorbike wasn’t exactly what I had in mind…”

“So it’s a yes, then?”

Maddie groans. “Screw it. Let’s do it. As long as I wear a helmet.”

* * *

“Hold on tight,” I say as Maddie wraps her arms around my waist.

“Don’t worry, I am.”

The motorbike roars to life. It’s loud, louder than the girl’s expecting. Maddie lets out a surprised yelp at its ferocity.

It feels good. Her hands around me. Feels right.

Now it’s time to show her the power of this machine.

I look ahead, out of the hotel’s parking lot, and then we zoom the hell out of there.

34

MADDIE

Mom is waiting for me outside the restaurant. A lone figure not dressed at all for LA’s harsh sunshine. As we pull up beside her in Axel’s nice motorbike, I take in a deep breath and think about tomorrow.

Tomorrow is when Ravaged’s tour starts. Tomorrow, with all the stress and craziness of traveling around the world, will be much easier than dealing with Mom for this lunch.

I dismount the bike.

Mom doesn’t expect me to be riding on the back of such a thing. I have to call out to her before she even recognizes me.

“Maddie?”

“Hi, Mom.”

People have always commented on how similar Mom and I look. Short with light blue eyes and wavy brown hair. Pale skin that shouldn’t belong in the Californian sun. That’s us. What Mom’s wearing doesn’t belong in the Californian sun either. She’s dressed rather conservatively for Los Angeles heat, like she’s going to church in the Mid-West. She’s got a scarf around her neck and a long dress that nearly reaches her ankles. She’s got flats on as well. Everything’s dark colors and no style. I can imagine her thinking that the focus should not be on herself, but on the Lord.

Meanwhile, I’ve opted for a classic and perfectly fitted pair of jeans and a blazer with sneakers. Nothing too fancy or too casual. Something I can wear on the back of a bike. My outfit’s probably too casual for someone like my mom, though.

But I don’t have to worry about her judgment. She’s already looking past me at the man currently removing his helmet with a rockstar flourish.

Here goes.

“Is this him?” she asks me, whispering.

“Yep. Axel, this is my mother, Mary Leaver. Mom, this is Axel Stoll, my boyfriend.”

I notice Mom’s eyes immediately dart from the dangerous-looking motorbike to scanning Axel up and down like a wild, vicious animal, focusing on the visible tattoos, looking very alarmed.

My fake boyfriend also notices that. He smirks at me. A man well used to being in trouble.

I’m not smirking back.

This is already shaping up to be a very bad idea. Why did I ever agree to this?

I hope to God that Mom doesn’t say anything during this lunch to rile up my fake boyfriend. Two hot-headed diametrically opposed people in the same room? It’ll be like fireworks, and not in a fun way.

“Hello, Mary,” Axel says. He’s putting on all the charm for her. “Lovely to meet you. I would’ve sworn you and Maddie are sisters.”