Daire and Aspen Novel – The first time I saw Daire MacKenzie, I was at the Lords of Fury clubhouse. Molly, my best friend since middle school, was dating the MC’s VP, Michael “Tacoma” Sullivan, and she was meeting him at the clubhouse for a party and invited me along. We’d been sitting together in a booth, Tacoma having gone to talk some business with one of his brothers, when the clubhouse door opened and I’m pretty sure I heard angels singing. Everything about this man looked brutal – his height, his muscular body, his face. He looked into the room, assessing it, with cold eyes and an unsmiling set to his jaw. Something told me this was a man who rarely smiled, and I’d find out later that I was right. He wore his jeans like they’d been tailor-made for him, and even without being able to see it, I knew his hip would be incredible.
He had on a plain black T and over it he wore a well-worn cut that declared him President. His dark hair was past his shoulders, straight and soft-looking. His eyes stopped on me, perhaps as the only unknown in the room, and I returned his stare with a smile. How could you not smile at a man so obviously in command who looked as good as he did? He started to walk over to us, but some of his brothers, including Tacoma, intercepted him before he could make it to me. I deflated, and none of this went unnoticed by my friend. “Don’t even think about Daire,” she cautioned, having sensed my interest as only an old friend could have. “That man is hot but he has this thing…” “What kind of thing?” I asked, prepared to be grossed out. “Like, an STD kind of thing or…?” Molly laughed. “No. All of these boys are fanatics about wrapping it up. No, he has this rule that he doesn’t date and he never lets something go with a woman longer than a month.” “What does that even mean?”
Rolling her eyes, Molly leaned close and whispered, “He love a girl for a month, and then he’s done. No second rounds, no extensions, he’s just on to the next woman.” “So why do these women put up with it?” “Apparently he’s like a god in bed. Whoever is with him for the month always looks very, very…happy.” “So just because the love is crazy good, he’s worth the one-month deadline?” Taking a long pull of her drink, Molly nodded. “Yep.” “He could be exactly what the doctor ordered,” I mused. “I could make his expertise work for me. Have him punch my V-card, and then I’d have some experience for a real relationship.” Molls shook her head. “Sorry. You’re not his type. Every woman he’s with is super tall, built like a skinny-hip model with big boobs and lots of makeup and skanky clothes. You my friend, are short, short, short, your item of clothing is your skinny jeans with a rip in the knee, and on your worst day you look like a naughty Sunday school teacher…and by naughty I mean, you forgot to memorize a Bible verse. Plus, while you may have a rockin’ hip, your boobs are merely normal sized.” She nodded toward a woman approaching Daire. He gave her a curt nod, turned around and headed up the stairs with the super-tall, skinny-hip model with big boobs and a lot of makeup following him.
“See?” Molly said. “That’s his current flavor of the month whose reign will end in another week.” One week later, despite my not being his type, I was sitting with Daire who was eyeing me consideringly since I’d just asked him if I could be his new flavor of the month. He looked me straight in the eye, and I knew I had him. This was a man who respected boldness so my approach had captured his attention. “I have rules,” he said seriously. I shrugged. “Don’t we all? Hit me with yours.” “One: no pecking.” “No problem.” He looked at me oddly, probably due to the genuine disgust in my voice. “You smoke,” I explain. “And, sorry if this insults you, but that grosses me out. I don’t want some nasty smoke mouth on mine. It’s enough to just have you smelling like smoke.” Waiting a beat, he continued. “Two: It’s over after thirty days. Period. No extensions, no do-overs, no emotion, no clinging. I’m not going to develop feelings for you, and I suggest you don’t catch feelings for me. If I have to remind you that the thirty days are over, you won’t like how I remind you. I expect you to know when you’re done and to get gone; don’t mistake me not bringing it up as an indication I want it to continue. I don’t.”
“Trust me, falling in love with you is the last thing I’d do.” I fiddled with my phone for a minute before looking back at him. “There! I just set a reminder on my phone for thirty days from now.” Again that odd look. “Three: No sleepovers. I do love with you at your place, then I get gone.” “I hate sharing a bed, so no problem.” I’d had several friends crash at my place in college and they made me realize I was a bed hog and didn’t like anyone infringing on my space. “Four: No touching me or acting possessive in public. You stay away from me unless I come up to you and give you some indication that I want your hands on me. But don’t expect that to happen. The only time I’ll approach you is to tell you that I want to do love.” “No PDA. Maintain my distance. Got it.” “Five: You will never be on the back of my bike, so don’t ask me for a ride. Ever. It’s not going to happen.” “OK. Next?” “Six: Don’t ask to come to my place. No one ever goes there except by invite, and then it’s just certain brothers.” “Understood. Any more?” He shot me an amused look before continuing. “Seven: We don’t do anything together except do love . No dinners, no movies, no hanging out. Don’t expect it or ask for it to happen. It won’t.”
“Got it.” “Eight: No texting or calling me unless it’s to tell me you can’t be somewhere I expect you to be. At the end of the thirty days, you delete my contact.” I sigh. “But I had all these adorable puppy and kitten videos to send you.” He shook his head at me. “Last rule: I can do love around with whoever I want during this month. You cannot.” “That seems decidedly in your favor not to mention sexist,” I rolled my eyes at him. “But fine.” “This last bit isn’t a rule but a warning: You get pregnant, you get rid of it or raise it on your own. I won’t be trapped and I do not want to be a father. You try anything legal, I’ll gain sole custody, put the kid up for adoption and ruin you. Got it?” Since pregnancy wasn’t on my radar for a long time, I had no problem with his rather aggressive anti-baby stance. “OK. I agree to all of your rules.” “That easy?” “Did you expect me to negotiate? All I want is to see if you’re as good as rumor has it, so I can agree to those terms for a month. It’s not like it’s forever.” ” no,” he muttered still looking a little surprised. “The rules are in place because I need to know you understand this has an expiration date and we aren’t anything more than temporary love buddies. I don’t like drama at the end so I set it up at the beginning so you’re clear. Are we clear on that?” “Crystal.” “Excellent. Then we’ll begin the thirty-day clock tomorrow night.”
Our first night together was going swimmingly until he slammed into me and I couldn’t hold back the pained yelp that stole my breath. I felt the involuntary tears fill my eyes as Daire reared back to look at me. “What just happened?” The look on his face was somewhere between disbelief and anger. I just concentrated on trying to catch my breath through the pain. He remained buried in me but held himself still as he looked down at me. Unwilling to let him see my pain or my tears, I closed my eyes. Against my will, tears trickled out of my closed eyes. “Look at me,” he demanded gruffly. I debated the merits of obeying, but then his lips were at my ear, whispering, “Look at me, little one.” The “little one” snapped my eyes open. Daire was the last man alive I imagined using an endearment. Yet he had. My eyes opened to his irritated ones. “You should have told me.” “It had to go sometime,” I tried for levity. My attempt failed. “I wouldn’t have gone there with you. I don’t do maidens.”
“Well, it wasn’t in your rules, so what does it matter? It’s not as if I’m going to be all starry eyed over you. I promise there’s no father waiting in the wings with a shotpistol. You seemed like someone who could do the deed and make it good for me, teach me some stuff this month that I can use with other men.” His body went solid at that and he scowled at me. “It’d be good you not mention other men while my shaft’s still in you,” he growled. “As for the rest, it was a surprise, but I can move past it if you can.” “I’m fine, now,” I assured him, my hands going to his face. “Proceed as you normally would. Feel free to tell me what to do since I’m kind of winging it here.” His head came closer and he rested his forehead against mine, laughing softly, I realized. “You’re going to kill me, you know that, don’t you?” “Hopefully not before I learn a few things,” I grinned at him. At that he burst out laughing and dropped a peck on my lips. That action snapped his head back, and before he could freak out at breaking his very first rule, I turned his focus back to the matter at hand.
“So, are you ever going to start moving that thing in me, or what?” Freak out averted, his eyes heated and he proceeded to prove why women were willing to put up with his bull rules. A-freaking-mazing. This was going to be a very good month…and if my stupid heart twinged at the thought of our expiration date, I forced those thoughts and feelings way, way back in my head. An hour later, I was sore as but smiling like a chorus of angels was singing around me. Daire got up off the bed and returned with a wet washcloth. Looking down at the mess on my sheets, he frowned. “Aspen, I had blood on me, you’re covered in blood and there’s blood all over your sheets. Are you sure you’re OK?” Without asking, he gently began washing between my legs and my thighs. I could feel my face flame, and he evaded when I grabbed for the washcloth.
“I’m better than OK,” I hissed. “Stop that! I can take care of myself!” He ignored me, and I blushed through his surprisingly gentle ministrations, refusing to open my eyes, worried he was going to end this before it had even really begun. When he was finished, he went back to the bathroom and I heard the tub filling as he moved around in the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back, scooped me up and deposited me in the wonderfully warm tub. “I put a couple of those ball things in there.” He was referring to my bath bombs and my heart melted. “Thanks,” I said calmly, even though my heart – that stupid, idiotic muscle – was trying to beat out of my chest. “I’ll change your sheets. Where do you keep extras?” “Oh, no. Not necessary. I’ll take care of that when I get out of the bath.” He just stared me down, and I knew why this man was head of the most successful MC in the south. You did not want to be on the receiving end of that look.
“They’re in the linen closet right in here.” I pointed to a small door in the bathroom wall. He grabbed the sheets and returned to my room, coming back minutes later with the soiled sheets. “Looked like a crime scene,” he said. “Think they may have to be thrown out.” The blush came back in a hot second. “Yeah, um, I’ll take care of that. I appreciate all the…aftercare, but I’m good now so, I’ll see you later.” That hard look again. “I decide when I go.” To distract him, I shot him a look. “So, what if you joined me in the tub?” That heat flared but died. “You wouldn’t be walking comfortably tomorrow.” “I work from home so…minimal walking required.” “Aspen, I do not want to hurt you. You’re already going to be sore.” Deciding to play dirty, I doubled down and pretended to think for a minute as if understanding suddenly dawned.
“Ohhh! I get it – you can’t do it that soon after –” That was as far as I got. I’d thrown down the gauntlet and he’d picked it up so fast he made my head spin. Around 4 am, he flopped back down on my bed and muttered something about creating a monster. I mumbled something unintelligible, feeling my eyes drift closed, wondering idly why people who were having regular love ever needed to work out. Every single muscle I owned was pulsing. And then it happened. He broke another rule: no sleepovers. I felt the covers pulled over us, and then strong arms were pulling me close, my head on that perfect spot between his chest and arm. So far, in the space of six hours, he’d broken two of his own rules. I was almost out when I felt his lips press a peck to my head. “Go to sleep, little one.” I obeyed, but only after vaguely realizing he didn’t smell or taste like smoke. One week later, the Lords of Fury were having a party because the North Carolina mother chapter had a few members visiting the Drayton chapter to take care of club business. Two of the officers from the NC chapter were sequestered with Daire and Tacoma in Daire’s office.
The other NC members that accompanied them were scattered throughout the clubhouse mixing with their brothers from Daire’s chapter. One of the members from the new chapter, Gator, was sitting at a table with me, Molly and another of the NC members, Crazy. We’d been talking about motorcycles when they found out I’d never been on one. “We’re gonna fix that right now,” Gator declares and motions for me to follow him. I do, with Molly and Crazy close behind. Gator’s been nursing a drink for the last hour, so I know he’s good to go. As for me, I’m beyond excited. Because of the rules, I can’t ask Daire for a ride, but Gator offered – I didn’t even have to ask! And no way am I going to miss this opportunity. I might not have one again. He plopped a helmet on my head and tightened the strap. Then he got on and started up the thundering pipes and I couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across my face. “You’re going to love it!” Molly assured me.
As I stood beside Gator, he shouted some basic directions to me for riding the bike with him. After he explained, I moved to get on the bike, but Daire was suddenly there, his face furious for some reason. “What are you doing?” he shouted at me. Gator, noticing Daire, cut the engine. Still unsure why he was so pissed, I gestured to the motorcycle. “Gator’s going to give me a ride on his bike.” Daire cut his glare to Gator. “No way is Gator giving you a ride on his bike.” “Why not?” I felt as if I was missing something important. He leaned down so his face was right in mine. “Because you don’t ride behind another man.” His growly attitude was beginning to get to me. “I can’t ride with you and I can’t ride with someone else? Ohhh, I didn’t ask, if you’re worried about that. He offered and I’ve always wanted to ride on a Harley, so what’s the problem?” “The problem is you. Don’t. Ride. On. Another. Man’s. Bike.” He bit out each word.
“Because –?” “Because you don’t!” he snapped. “You want a ride behind someone, ask me, Aspen! You don’t go off with some other man.” “Seriously? You told me, quote, you will never be on the back of my bike, so don’t ask me for a ride. Ever. It’s not going to happen unquote. I don’t get your issue.” At this point, Gator intervened. “Hey, brother, apologies. I didn’t know.” “No worries, brother.” “I asked; she said she wasn’t with anyone.” Daire’s icy gaze returned to me. “What the ?” “Don’t look at me like that! You’re the one who told me this isn’t a relationship, that we’re not together or anything. All we are is thirty days of…fun. So how is what I said wrong?” With two quick movements, Daire unsnapped my helmet and handed it off to Gator. Then, without a word, he grabbed my hand and towed me to his bike, where he proceeded to put his helmet on me. He then mounted up and told me to get on behind him. Reaching back, he grabbed my hip and scooted me closer to him.
“Grab on around my waist and don’t let go.” As soon as I did, he started his bike and took off with a roar. I loved every single minute, holding onto Daire, moving with him, feeling the wind in my face. It was one of the best feelings I’d ever experienced in my life. Two nights later, I was preparing to go out when Daire texted. Daire: What are you doing? Me: Heading out to that ice cream place we passed on the bike the other night. I’ll be back in an hour or so if you were planning on coming over later. Daire: Wait I’ll be there in ten and we can go It took me a few minutes to respond. What happened to no texting or hanging out other than to do the deed? Realizing I was never going to understand this man, I texted back a simple OK while simultaneously telling my stupid heart to start beating normally. This didn’t mean anything. Nothing. True to his word, he thundered into my driveway ten minutes later. I’d been sitting on the porch steps watching for him and couldn’t help the thrill in my belly when I saw him approaching. Tamping down my emotions, I reminded myself this was just for fun. We had an expiration date.
He didn’t get off his bike, but when I walked over, he snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me close for a peck. Since the first night we were together, he’d pecked me many times, but he still always looked somewhat surprised, as if he couldn’t believe he was pecking me. It unsettled him, I can tell, but he still did it, as if it was against his better judgment. I never said anything about it, but I did try to distract him. “Take me to my chocolate ice cream,” I teased. “With hot fudge. Oh, and whipped cream!” He gave my waist a squeeze before handing me my helmet. I snapped it on and threw my leg over. Within seconds, we were off. Riding on a powerful bike to get ice cream with a hot man. Life was good. The day after ice cream, I got another text from Daire. Daire: What are you doing right now? Me: Heading out to do some shopping. Daire: What kind of shopping? I didn’t respond because I was actually headed to Victoria’s Secret. Daire kept destroying my panties and bras. Daire: Answer Me: Victoria’s Secret kind of shopping Daire: I’ll be at your house in 15. Wait for me.
The day I’d been dreading had come with a swiftness that approached Mach 2. Despite all my warnings and reminders to myself, I’d fallen for Daire, knowing it was pointless, knowing to him this month was about nothing but do love . To me, it was about him and the new dimensions he brought into my life. His pillow talk was surprisingly excellent and we laughed, talked about our lives, our ambitions, places we wanted to travel, things we wanted to do and see. And last night had been the last night together, but even that had been interrupted by a call that caused Daire to leave suddenly, right before midnight when our whatever turned into a pumpkin. Thirty days were up. I wondered if it had been prearranged so he could avoid an awkward good-bye.
After he walked out, at exactly midnight, I blocked his number and deleted his contact, as per his orders. It was a great rule, because I was so tempted to keep it. Even though he hadn’t mentioned it, I deleted our text string as well, not wanting to become that girl who repeatedly read and re-read all of the texts from old boyfriends. My phone rang early that morning, and of course it was Molly because she knew the best month of my life was over. “You OK?” “Not really, no. But I will be,” I promised both her and myself, pretty certain I was lying. I’d never be OK. “I have no one to blame but myself. But honestly, how could any woman not succumb?” “I think they all do,” Molly said quietly. “But he’s been pretty brutal if he’s had to rebuff any clingers, so I think they learn to rein it in.” “And I’ll be good, too.” “But, Aspen, maybe…with all you’ve told me, he’s broken just about every single one of his rules with you. Maybe –” “Don’t,” I cut her off.
“Don’t try to give me hope when there isn’t any. I’ve already deleted and blocked his contact, as he ordered at the beginning of the month. And I’m about to make plans with you to go out tonight to a bar, not one owned by the MC, and just have a few drinks and dance and forget. That way, I don’t have to worry about seeing him pick out Miss July, since my reign as Miss June has ended.” Good friend that she was, she immediately agreed to a chick night, and I let her, knowing she’d probably already made plans with Tac for tonight and would be cancelling them so she could support me. “I’ll get some of the other girls together. Girls night out!” “Sounds good,” I said with an enthusiasm I was definitely not feeling. We made plans for me to come to Molly’s at six, where we’d get ready, enjoy a few drinks, then we’d Uber to meet the rest of the girls at Bad Decisions at nine.
“You look hot,” Molly declared later that night. Not sure if I agreed, I could admit that I looked like I was ready to have a good time. I was in a short, tight black skirt, just this side of legal, tall strappy black wedges, and a tight red shirt with a low V. My hair was curled in loose waves that reached my lower back, and my makeup was flawless, the crowning touch my smoky eyes. We Ubered to the bar and met up with Keely, Suze and Roxy. We were sitting at a tall table, having had our third round of margaritas when we decided it was time to hit the dance floor. Molly had been having an odd text exchange with Tacoma where she was not giving him any information and he kept hammering her with texts that she was showing us. Tacoma: Where are you? Molly: Out Tacoma: Tell me where you are Molly: Not where I’d normally be! And as of 25 minutes ago, it’s none of your beeswax. Tacoma: Seriously where are you? Molly: Not telling you Tacoma: Who are you with? Molly: Not you Tacoma: Answer the question Molly: Tacoma: Babe, getting annoyed Molly: Me, too. I’d tell my boyfriend where I was, but since I don’t have one, I’m turning off phone now. Good night, guy I used to have love with. Or is even that too much of a label for you? And she turned her phone off, just as it started ringing.
“He doesn’t own me,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. “Nobody owns us,” Roxy laughed and held up her glass. We toasted with her, but I had to follow up. “Things OK with you and Tac?” She shrugged. “I kind of broke up with him just before we came out. Seven months and he won’t commit to anything and it’s just been getting to me lately. Last night I asked him pointblank if he was my boyfriend. He said no! No! So, he won’t say he’s my boyfriend, he definitely hasn’t claimed me, and every time I ask if we’re serious I get the, ‘Babe, let’s just keep this easy for now, no labels, yeah?’ response and I’m beginning to realize I’m more into this…whatever it is we have than he is. Like he’s with me until something better comes along. So I told him I’m done with him.” “When did you tell him that?” “Ummm…right before we got in the Uber tonight.” Oh, boy. “Well, he’s never going to find anyone better than you,” I assured her. “You are awesome and if he can’t see it, then screw him. His loss.” “Screw him!” Roxy yelled with her glass in the air. Pretty sure Roxy had a head start on the drinks as she was now in hilariously loud mode. We toasted again. “We don’t need no stinkin’ men!” Suze responded.
She was four months post-break up and still bitter. “We’re all about girls tonight!” Keely exclaimed. “No stinkin’ men!” At that, we finished our drinks and went out to the dance floor where we danced like crazy, men-hating women for an hour. Any man that approached was told to take a hike. “Girl power!” Roxy declared to the males around us. “If you don’t have a va-jay-jay, get away-way!” Soon other women joined our male-free zone and we forced the DJ to play anti-men anthems. He probably played Ugly Heart by G.R.L. three times. It was approaching midnight, and we’d had a couple more margaritas and a lot more dancing therapy with fellow men-haters. Geez, there were a lot of angry women out tonight and based on their stories, they had good reason. We definitely weren’t feeling any pain, and any time my thoughts started to wander to Daire, I forced them back and danced harder. Then Molly grabbed my arm and said, “Don’t look behind you but they just walked in.” “Who?”