Ridge Creek by C L Green Read Free Book Online Page A

the long distance to his face, I see
bright green eyes watching me with interest.
    “You look better,” he tells me.
    “Do I?”  I wouldn’t know.  No one will let me look in a
fucking mirror.  The one in the bathroom was covered over with a piece of board
by day two that had been screwed to the wall either side.
    Who does that?
    He nods.
    Taking my hand, he gently turns and pulls me towards the
door.  Feeling safe and secure with my hand in his huge hulking one, I follow
without a word.  If Jake’s here, I’m okay.
    Leading me down a long hallway past the bathroom and toilet
(the only other two rooms I know), we turn at the end.  Zig zagging through a
maze of smaller rooms, we enter a huge, open plan type room with three timber dining settings in it.  There is also a pool table to one side and a bar
on the other.  Looking around the room, I baulk.
    I baulk because the room also has three strange men standing
at the pool table. 
    Biker men.
    One is a tall, scrawny guy with long, curly red hair and a
long red goatee hanging down his chest.  One is short and fat with messy
shoulder length brown hair and a long scruffy beard.  The third has shoulder
length blonde hair that looks style cut and he is clean shaven.  Even though he
has no facial hair like the other two, I can tell he is still a biker because
he is wearing jeans, a Harley t-shirt and a pair of kick ass old biker boots. 
Lean and fit looking with great hair, he wears his biker outfit well.
    Tugging me gently to encourage me to keep following him, I
gawk at the three bikers and watch as all eyes flick to me.  Wordlessly, I
watch as their eyes scan my entire body and lift back to my face.
    All of their faces harden.
    I suddenly feel self-conscious. 
    Good god, what do I look like?
    I’m not too worried about what I am wearing because,
contrary to his own statement, Zane is a good shopper.  I am wearing a stretchy
pair of yoga pants that don’t irritate my ass cheek or back.  Above this I have
a hot pink, soft cotton t-shirt with a huge black scull on the front.  The
shirt is cool.  I like it.  The only regret I have is that I am barefoot and I
haven’t had a chance to paint any of my nails.
    The issue must be my face.
    My hair is brushed out long because I find it too hard to
get a hair tie in with my sore shoulder and I have been brushing my teeth but
apart from that, I have no idea. 
    Shit.
    Shooting them a small wave, I follow along just behind Jake
as he exits a door to the side of the room and we find ourselves in the garage
that we entered through the night I arrived.
    Things are a bit busier out here and there are four more
bikers, plus Pops, crowded around a motorcycle on a stand.  I smile and wave to
Pops.  He smiles and nods back.  The three new bikers all look at me and their
faces harden too. 
    Fuck I must be hideous.  They won’t even smile at me.
    I’m used to men smiling at me.  I’ve often wondered why they
do.  But the truth of the matter is that  usually, whether I am meeting a guy
for the first time or even if I’m just passing a random in the street, he
smiles at me.  Only Pops is smiling at me today.  Am I so hideous that only an
old man will smile at me?
    Jake tows me over to a workbench and drops my hand.  I watch
as he picks up a cordless drill.  He then does one of those ‘man moves’ on the
drill.  The one where they grab the nose of the drill, power it up, pull
something out its nose, put something back in and then power it up again for a
brief spurt.  He looks like he knows what he is doing.
    Taking my hand again, we do a reverse trip through the
garage, through the open room and down the hallway to the bathroom.  I of
course wave to the bikers on my reverse trip.  I am even pleased to notice that
the nice looking blonde biker raises an eyebrow at me and the corners of his
lips hint at a smile as we pass.
    I decide my hideousness must become more bearable with each
viewing.
    In the bathroom,