Bulldog (Heartlands Motorcycle Club Book 11)

  Bulldog

  Heartlands MC

  Hope Ford

  Bulldog © 2020 by Hope Ford

  Editor: Kasi Alexander

  Photographer: Regina Wamba

  Cover Design: Cormar Covers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.authorhopeford.com

  Contents

  1. Kate

  2. Bulldog

  3. Kate

  4. Kate

  5. Kate

  6. Kate

  7. Kate

  8. Kate

  9. Kate

  10. Kate

  11. Bulldog

  12. Kate

  13. Kate

  14. Kate

  Epilogue

  Epilogue 2

  Heartlands

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  About the Author

  1

  Kate

  Forty. The big four o. It happened a few weeks ago, and I have to admit it’s been an adjustment. It wasn’t like I didn’t see it coming. I just didn’t think turning forty was going to give me even a moment’s pause. Instead it gave me a smack in the face stop sign. It was like I suddenly realized I needed to stop and look around and evaluate how my life is going. The time had passed where I could say I’d get around to doing things I wanted to do later. Because later is now.

  Having lived my life very carefully and responsibly makes me realize that maybe I should have taken advantage of my younger years a bit more. Had some fun, lived a little dangerously. Instead, I did what I thought was expected of me. Graduated high school, went to college, and graduated with a business degree. Started a career. Got married. Had a child. I did everything I thought I was supposed to do. And then it all seemed to start falling apart.

  I try to pinpoint exactly when I started feeling restless, but there’s not specifically one event that caused it. Most people would think that discovering my husband of fifteen years was sleeping around was it. But it wasn’t. Staying in the marriage was more for my husband saving face than anything. It didn’t destroy me, heck it was more of a relief than anything when I found out about his indiscretions. What I thought was my duty, to stay married, went to the wayside when I found out about his infidelity.

  So the only thing I can attribute to my wanting more is everything, all of it. I’m forty, single, and looking for something. I just don’t know what yet.

  Luckily, my friends from work seem to understand that I’m going through something. I’ve spent the last few years always turning down their invites to hang out together after work. So much to the point that they stopped asking. But today, when I am bemoaning my life, they invite me.

  “Come with us on Friday,” Tamara says to me and looks around the break room as if she’s looking to see if anyone else is listening. I don’t know why she bothers. It’s only the four of us in here and it’s our assigned lunch break. No one ever disrupts us. Which automatically makes me think she’s about to invite me to a strip club.

  No. Thank. You. Strip clubs are definitely not my scene. I’m already about to tell them no and Carrie leans over and snaps her finger in front of my face. “You said you needed something exciting. Well, this is exciting.”

  But I’m already shaking my head. “I’m not going to a strip club.”

  Bryce laughs. “Girl, I wish it was a strip club. Trust me if you’ve seen the men that go in there you would be wishing the same thing.”

  “Where?” I ask.

  Bryce leans in and starts to whisper. “So, remember last week when I had my car in the shop? Well, it broke down close to that Heartlands Garage, and even though they primarily work on bikes, Maddox, one of the men that work there, offered to work on my car for me. Well, he was telling me about the Ride or Die Bar… and girl, we’re going.”

  I lean back in my chair and start to laugh. I mean, I can’t help it. I almost have to hold my stomach from laughing so hard. I look around the table at Bryce, Carrie, and Tamara. I’m the oldest of the bunch and feel like a mother to them more times than not. Sometimes, they get into some crazy stuff. “Not me, I’m not going to a bar called the Ride or Die. No way. No how.”

  Bryce leans over and grabs my arm. “Kate, it’s a biker bar. And I mean the real deal. These guys are hard, handsome, tattooed.” She does a big shivering motion with her shoulders. “Man, I can’t even think about it without getting excited.”

  I laugh and pull my arm away from her clutches. “Calm down, girl. You’re getting too excited for an accounting office. You may need to go down to the ladies in the marketing department if you keep this up.”

  “Har, har,” she says. “I’m not joking, they are that hot.” And she waves her hand in her face as if she’s trying to cool herself off.

  Well, if nothing else, lunch today is entertaining.

  They spend the rest of our lunch break trying to convince me that I need to go, but I keep refusing. I’ve never been there, I don’t even think I’ve driven by it, but I know it’s not my thing.

  The rest of the day goes by in a blur. I keep having this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s like I’m hyper aware that I need a change, I just don’t know what that is. But I’m doing my best to ignore it.

  My phone dings on my desk and I pick it up.

  Ugh. A text from Charlie, my ex-husband.

  Don’t forget Friday night. I need you to help me host the dinner for the Seneca Bar Association.

  My mouth drops and I start typing furiously. We’re not married. I’m not hosting anything.

  I almost text him to have his girlfriend, Chloe, help him, but by texting that it would imply I care that he has a girlfriend, which I do not.

  I put my phone down and it dings again. I scan it quickly and type back, I can’t. I have plans.

  And before he can respond, I type out a group text to Tamara, Carrie, and Bryce. I’m in. Ride or Die!

  I take a deep breath and push the send button. A few seconds go by and I hear a whoop from an office down the hall. Yep, pretty sure that was Tamara. Followed by laughter from Carrie and Bryce. They all chime in and my phone starts blowing up.

  Yes!

  Alright!

  You are going to be glad you did!

  I chuckle, send them all a heart emoji, and then I get back to work. But I still can’t stop shaking my head. Who names their bar the Ride or Die? I mean, it seems pretty ominous to me.

  My luck, it’s probably a bunch of overweight, balding men that get together on weekends wishing they were real bikers. Regardless, it’s probably not really dangerous, and it will be interesting if nothing else.

  2

  Bulldog

  Seventies rock is blaring from the ol’ jukebox. It’s a Friday night and the bar is already hopping and it’s only nine o’clock. Working as the bouncer for the Ride or Die is never boring. There’s always the same crew here, but it seems lately there’s more and more outsiders showing up. It’s a biker bar, after all, but tonight there’s all kinds of people here.

  Candace, a woman that comes in pretty regularly, has her arm on me and I know all I have to do is say the word. She’d go out with me—on a date, to the backroom, whatever I wanted. But just looking at her, I know she would be temporary and I’m starting to wish that the women in my life weren’t so fleeting. It’s not like they’re wanting to exit my life. I’m the one with the walls up. It’s just that the women I meet don’t seem to have any substan
ce to them. It seems that a lot of the guys of the Heartlands MC are settling down and I can’t help but be a little jealous of what they’ve found. I’ve never seen them happier. But regardless, I know Candace is not what I want. So I dismiss her with a shrug of my head and then go back to looking at one table across the room.

  I stare over at the four women that came in a little while ago. Well, actually I’m only looking at one of them. I don’t know what it is that the women I’ve been kicking to the curb are missing exactly, but whatever it is, the woman that I can’t seem to look away from has it. I knew when they came in they didn’t belong here. I mean, they all dressed the part, well except for her. The beautiful redhead with the green eyes. She has on a long, fitted skirt and button-down shirt that is almost buttoned to the very top. The rest of the ladies have on short skirts and belly-baring shirts, and it’s obvious they’re looking for a good time. But my girl is sitting there, watching everything, and seems to be taking it all in. I wait for a look of disgust or even a lift of her nose, but she doesn’t. She seems to just be observing it all.

  I almost walk over to her table a dozen times, but for the first time in a long time I’m not quite sure how to approach her. I watch her with her friends, and it’s obvious that she’s the responsible one of the group, keeping track of her friends, and she’s only been nursing a single beer for the past hour.

  I nod at some friends coming in, slap knuckles and then look back at the table. My girl has her back to me now and she’s watching her friend on the dance floor. Her friend has her skirt hiked high on her hips and she’s swaying to the music. Right now, she’s alone, but I know she won’t be for long. I look around the bar and it seems she’s giving a show. None of the men that are taken, Ranger, Saint, Jaxon, and Chain, are looking her way, but the rest of them are, and I know, like a nagging in my gut, that it’s about to get bad.

  I see the man get up from the bar and stagger over to her. At first she smiles at him, but when he gets handsy, she tries to pull away. I’m already making my way across the bar, but it seems the woman I had my eye on is going to beat me to it. She slides between her drunk friend and the man. Without even touching him, she somehow gets him to back down. I walk up in time to hear her say, “Sorry, but my friend’s not interested.”

  The man just laughs and then looks my girl up and down. “What about you, honey? You interested?”

  Before she can get a word out, I’m stepping up next to them, doing my best not to rip his eyes out for even looking at her. “No, she’s not, John. Why don’t you have a seat back at the bar?”

  It seems my reputation proceeds me, and John doesn’t even question me before turning to go. I barely watch him walk away before turning my back on him. I know he’s not stupid enough to blindside me. Half the men in here would have him dragged out the back door before he got a second punch.

  “Thank you,” my girl says to me. I can’t keep referring to her as my girl. A name. I need a name.

  “You’re welcome. But it looks like you had it under control before I got here,” I compliment her.

  She shrugs her shoulders and before she can turn away, I ask her, “What’s your name?”

  She tilts her head to the side but doesn’t answer me immediately. I can tell she’s weighing her thoughts before she decides to give in. But the heat is there. She’s attracted to me, I can tell. Maybe it’s because I want her, and it’s hopeful thinking on my part, but I don’t think so. The rapid beat of her pulse in her neck, the flare of her nostrils, and the way her eyes are darkening let me know she has some interest. “Why do you want to know?” She finally answers me with her own question.

  Her friend is looking between us and she seems to have sobered up, because her head is volleying back and forth easily, as if she doesn’t want to miss a thing.

  I could tell the little redhead that I want to know what I should be calling her when I’m driving my dick into her later, but she doesn’t seem the type that would be impressed with that. So, instead, I’m honest with her. “Because I’ve been wondering since you walked in earlier. And I figure you’re not ready for me to call you my girl like I have been doing in my head all night.”

  3

  Kate

  Oh, he’s smooth. The sexy eye candy built to make women feel small and dainty, even thicker curvy girls like myself, is too much. For him to look and talk the way he does, he should definitely come with a warning label. Even though I managed to extract Carrie from the scary looking biker, I’m grateful to have an escort away from the guy who was looking to take full advantage of my too-drunk friend.

  I meet his eyes and man, oh man, my body is already responding to him. He’s young. Way too young for me, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe he was hoping to save Carrie for himself. Maybe flirting with me to try and catch Carrie’s eye? I look at Carrie and she’s staring open-mouthed at him. I turn my head to look at our savior again, and he’s still looking straight at me. “I’m Kate… and this is Carrie.”

  I don’t wait for him to respond. I walk with Carrie over to the table with Bryce and Tamara. Carrie’s on to me the whole way, telling me how handsome the guy was, and I was stupid to walk away. I don’t even care. I don’t feel as if I can breathe until I put some distance between us.

  We no sooner get to the table than Carrie is telling Bryce and Tamara all about the man who had “goo goo” eyes for me. Her words, not mine.

  I almost laugh at her antics until everyone in front of me gets really quiet and is staring behind me. I can feel him before he even says a thing.

  I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, and I take a deep breath before I turn around. His hand slides across my shoulder, down my arm, and wraps around my fingers. “Dance with me… Kate.”

  I start to say no. I know I’m only going to look foolish. He’s way too young, way too handsome, just way too much everything. But my friends aren’t going to let me take the easy way out. Carrie puts her hands on my back and almost pushes me into his arms.

  Luckily, he catches me, and I suck in a deep breath as I hit his hard chest. His big arms wrap around me, and I swear he almost carries me out to the dance floor. I pull back, but he still holds my hand the whole way. His scent surrounds me, woodsy and clean but also manly, and once he stops on the dance floor, he pulls me into his arms again.

  I bite my lip and look for something to say. “You won’t get in trouble, will you? For dancing? Are you supposed to be working?”

  He shakes his head, and his stare is penetrating me. “No. I got Saint to cover the door. He can handle it.”

  I nod and ask him, “What’s your name?”

  “Bulldog,” he answers and then grimaces, like he has a bad taste in his mouth. “But you can call me Bull.”

  One arm goes around my waist and fits me tighter against him. The way he takes charge on the dance floor, holding me like I’ve always been his, has my heart hammering in my chest, and I’m breathing fast, even though there’s a slow song playing through the speakers. He’s taller than me and bigger also. So I can ignore the fact that he’s too young for me, as least right now, while we’re dancing.

  He pushes the hair off my face. “Where do you live?” As he speaks, his eyes stay focused on my lips.

  I almost answer him, already wanting to give him everything he asks for. But common sense prevails. “Why do you want to know that?”

  His hands slide up and down my back, and I loop my arms around his shoulders, my hands resting at the nape of his neck.

  I swear as we sway, I can feel the bulge between his legs pressed against my belly. I start to look away, but he stops me. “I want to know so that after you drive your friends home I’ll know where to meet you later.”

  My nipples tingle and his gruff, raspy voice sends chills down my body. I’ve never reacted like this to a man before, let alone one I just met. We’re so close every time our bodies sway, I can feel his leg pressed between mine. I fight the urge to tighten my legs on his. He definitely knows what h
e’s doing. “How old are you?”

  He opens his mouth and then closes it.

  I smile then, because I know he’s young, but now I wonder just how young. I put my forehead on his chest and shake my head before I look up at him again. “Please tell me you’re of legal age.”

  He laughs then and it’s a hearty one that comes deep from his belly. “Twenty-four.”

  I slide my hands down from around his neck and grip his upper arms. I try to step away, but he’s not having it. “Uh-uh, baby. Where do you think you’re going?”

  Like a hussy, I’m amazed by the feel of his arms flexing under my hands. Damn, he’s hard, which makes me wonder if he’s this hard everywhere. Shaking my head, I reach behind me to pry his hands off me, but when I do, he just grabs on to my hands and holds me. I’m sixteen years older than him. I keep waiting for him to ask me how old I am, but he doesn’t.

  As if he’s afraid I’m going to walk away, he brings both my hands up to his chest and holds them there. His breath is hot on my face and it’s like I can feel the emotion in his voice. “Fuck, I want to kiss you.”

  I should say no. I should tell him how old I am and then I know he’ll let me walk away from him. But I don’t. Staring into his eyes, I raise onto my tiptoes. He pulls one of my hands up to his shoulder, setting it there until I wrap it around the back of his neck. He cups my face, still holding my other hand. He leans down and when his lips touch mine, I can feel the heat of it all the way to my toes.

  He may be young, but he knows what he’s doing. His tongue slides in and then out again. He’s pushing me for more, the way he’s angled his face and taking me in. His leg slides between mine, and I clench my legs on to him tightly because his kiss is already more than I can handle. I can’t take much more.