He had dark hair just like his father’s, those gorgeous brown eyes, but he also had an easy smile.

Tatiana, on the other hand, was petite.

I was five-foot-seven, but in my high heels, a lot taller.

She was wearing flip-flops and had to be five-four, at most.

She had her dad’s dark hair too, except long, cut in chunky layers—this more noticeable at the sides that fell in textured wisps from jaw to ends— and it flowed in waves down her back.

She also had Buck’s dark brown eyes.

But she had beautiful skin, peaches and cream and sheer perfection, not her father’s and brother’s olive tone.

Upon meeting me, Gear looked me up and down, gave me a lazy smile and a handshake that lasted too long.

Tatiana looked me up and down as well, her lip curled slightly, and after giving me a dagger glare, she avoided my eyes.

Buck took my shopping bags to his bedroom while announcing he was making chicken enchiladas.

This was met with a fair and surprising amount of excitement, and Gear and Tatiana instantly decided they’d bag on meeting their friends for food prior to the party and stick around for enchiladas.

This sent me straight to the tequila and margarita mix.

Both kids got out their cell phones and their fingers flew over the screens as they texted their change in plans to their friends.

Buck came back from the bedroom and went direct to the fridge.

I asked the kids if they wanted a drink, got Gear a Coke, pretended to ignore the fact that Tatiana ignored my question, and instead asked Buck if he wanted a margarita.

His way of saying no was giving me a grin and getting himself a beer.

Buck then started moving around the kitchen, doing things to prepare to cook while I made my margarita.

The problem with this was, both his kids were on stools on the outside of the counter, facing the kitchen. I was in the kitchen, and it became apparent very quickly that Buck didn’t intend to let them in on the nature of our relationship gently.

I knew this because, if he needed something around where I was working, his arm would curve around me, hand at my belly, front pressed to my back, and he’d lean into me to get it.

Or, if he needed me to vacate the space, his fingers would span my hips, and he’d pull me away, grab what he needed, then those fingers would go back to my hips and he’d return me to where I used to be.

This had two unfortunate results.

It delayed my margarita and made my face feel hot.

Finally, margarita done, my mind whirling to find some escape so I could regroup and come up with a plan, Buck sent Gear on the errand of getting tortillas and cheese for the enchiladas.

I braved a glance at the two on the stools.

Gear was smirking at me.

Tatiana looked like she’d sucked a lemon.

“Right, Dad,” Gear agreed, eyes on me. “You wanna come, Clara? You’ll get to experience my ride and my ride is dope.”

I smiled a genuine smile because I had the feeling I would like Gear, and I lifted my glass.

“No, but thanks for the offer. Today I endured a Biker Babe Ritual. It was grueling, so now I need to put my feet up and drink tequila. Maybe you’ll let me experience your ride another time.”

Gear’s smile got bigger. Tatiana’s lip curled again. Buck’s hand came out of nowhere, swept my hair off my neck then his lips were there for a quick kiss.

I froze and my eyes shot to Tatiana who looked about ready to vomit.

“It’s a nice evening,” I proclaimed, side-stepping Buck after his lips left my neck. “I’m going to go sit on the deck.” I sucked in breath and offered to Tatiana, “Do you want me to get you a drink and you can join me?”

“No, when Dad cooks, I help,” Tatiana replied, saying this like it was the eleventh commandment and I was a heathen that didn’t know this was set in stone by the divine hand of God. “And anyway, this is my house so I can get my own drink.”

This caught Buck’s attention and his eyes narrowed on her.

Though, fortunately, because I didn’t think it’d make me more popular with her, he didn’t call her on it.

She slid off her stool, and ignoring her father’s narrowed eyes, she smiled a dazzling smile at him and offered, “I’ll cut up the chicken.”

“Great, babe, thanks,” Buck muttered, his gaze on his daughter now no longer narrow but watchful.

“I’m outta here,” Gear stated, grabbing a set of keys from the counter and heading toward the door. “We need anything else?”

“Diet Coke,” Tatiana replied.

“Clara?” Gear prompted.

“No, thanks,” I replied, moving with him to the front door because it led to the deck.

“Dad?” Gear went on.

“A sixer of Coors and a carton of Marlboro Reds,” Buck answered.

At this response, I stopped dead, turned my attention to Buck and was pretty sure my eyes bugged out.

He was asking his son to buy beer and cigarettes?

His seventeen-year-old son, who, in order to do this had to have a fake ID, and Buck not only knew about it, but encouraged him to use it?

And…

Buck smoked?

I’d seen the ashtrays littering the MC’s hangout, but I’d never seen Buck smoke.

Though, I’d smelled it on him, but the smell was not like he did it. It was like he was around others who did.

“Gotcha, on it,” Gear replied easily. “And while I’m out, want me to hit up our boy for a dime bag of weed?”

“Sure,” Buck agreed.

Oh my God!

Then, when I glanced between them and processed the identical bad boy smiles they were giving me, I realized both Hardy men were teasing me.

To which I rolled my eyes.

This made Buck’s lips quirk and he finally gave his son a real answer.

“No, Gear, I think we’re good.”

Gear nodded, opened the front door, and muttered, “I’m gone.”

Then he was.

“I’ll be right out here,” I announced, followed him out, and as such, escaped.

I stayed escaped while I stood out on the deck, gazed unseeing at the landscape, sipped my margarita, tried to find calm, and failed because I was also trying to think of ways to break through Tatiana’s dislike of me.

I knew it was early days (or actually, early minutes).

But even with Buck’s warning, I was unprepared for just how much she visibly, not-making-that-first-attempt-to-hide-it disliked me.

In truth, what I wanted was to take off my shoes, my feet were killing me.

But my shoes were the only thing that made my outfit even a modicum of cool.

And by appearances, both of Buck’s kids had inherited his coolness.

Gear even had his mysteriously cool styled-but-not-really hair.

Thus, I decided, I needed to keep my shoes on.

After I made that decision, I figured I was going to need more margaritas and wished I’d made a pitcher.

I looked into the house and saw Tatiana standing, doing something at the counter, her back to me, her head turned and tilted back. She was smiling up at her dad, who was close and grinning down at her.

She was very pretty when she smiled.

Gorgeous.

She said something, and he threw his head back and laughed, which made her smile bigger, and she leaned into him, bumping his chest with her shoulder.