Olivia let herself into her apartment and dropped her bag on the floor as she closed the door, locking it behind her. It had been one of those days and all she wanted was a glass of wine and a hot bath. She grabbed the bottle off the counter, not even bothering to get a glass as she headed for the bathroom, kicking off her shoes as she went.

Maybe a good session of self love would help get her mind off of things. Some bubbles and candles...a dirty little fantasy and an orgasm… yes, that sounds lovely she thought as she started the water and poured in a generous amount of bubble bath before pulling her phone out of her pocket and setting it on the edge of the tub while she stripped down, tossing her clothes in the hamper.

She rolled her eyes as her phone buzzed, assuming it was her mother once again demanding to know how her article was coming along for the weekly paper she ran. Olivia always wanted to be a journalist, and right after graduation, she was offered a job at the Herald, which she jumped at immediately. She felt proud to have the career she preferred, even if it was for her mother.

However, Olivia soon learned that as overbearing as Amy could be as a mother, it didn’t even compare to her as a boss who shared the same name as her mother. Boss Amy is terrifyingly formidable; relentless and demanding in her pursuit of a story with no care or qualm as to whom she may hurt, or anger, or offend. Honestly, how Olivia has managed to work for her as long as she has is a mystery in itself, one that not even she has the answer to.

But now, eight years later, the news in their town has gone stale. A big difference from when Olivia had started, and the town had been hopping with stories and scandals; from murders to cults to gangs and corruption. Now all that remained was one gang, the Bozers, or Bridge trash, as her mother so lovingly coined them while ignoring that she herself had grown up on the Bridge, and had, in her youth, been a part of their group.

And even though they were more of an MC than anything else now, her mother’s disdain for them has not wavered, and she continues her never ending mission to bring them down, completely dismissive of the fact that, at least to Olivia’s knowledge, they don’t really do anything wrong. But harmless or not, Amy had fabricated enough shit over the years to get the entire town thinking they were some evil force out to ruin Parkstone and corrupt their children.

Olivia didn’t agree with her mother at all and therefore stayed far away from any news pertaining to the Bozers. She didn’t want any part in defamation and written lies. She left that to her mother. Besides, Olivia kind of liked the Bozers. Granted, she didn’t know any of them and had never interacted with them, but they thrilled her. In a town full of pretentious idiots, they were unabashedly rebellious and took great pleasure in being shit disturbers. They were real; they did what they wanted and didn’t care what anybody thought, and Olivia was jealous of their freedom to live life how they saw fit.

Olivia wasn’t sure what turned her mother against them as Amy had always refused to talk about her past, especially when it came to the Bozers, but what Olivia did know...was that their leader, Ace Walker, was hot as hell, and there wasn’t a woman in Parkstone that didn’t lust after him in one way or another. He was the epitome of the bad boy fantasy, dark and dangerous with an air of mystery; and the fact that he was basically walking sex wrapped up in leather and sat atop a Harley definitely worked in his favor.

She had seen him earlier in the day when he had rolled into the HotSpot parking lot with all his buddies. They were standing around their bikes when she had left the diner with her and her mom’s lunch, and she had watched him as he leaned against his bike; booted feet crossed at the ankles, leather clad arms crossed over his chest, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and that ridiculous hat he always wore on his head. He was a perfect combination of scary and sexy, and when he’d caught her looking, his mouth had quirked up in a smug smirk, making her flush red as she glanced away and hurried to her car. She had felt his eyes on her as they followed her out of the parking lot, and she was sure that he’d known exactly what she had been thinking.

Yes, Ace Walker was a great illusion...but in reality, completely unacceptable.

She was still too controlled to let herself go crazy. Too worried about how others will see her. Something that her mother had drilled into her since birth.

Always be at your best. Never let people see you crumble under pressure. Stand up straight. Control your thoughts. Control your actions. Control, control, control.

Maybe one day Olivia would get out of this shitty town and be a real journalist somewhere else. Or maybe just be whatever somewhere else. Olivia didn’t know why she stayed in Parkstone, there was nothing really keeping her here besides her friends, whom she loved and liked having so close, and her mom of course, who despite her craziness and control, loved her and she loved in return. Maybe one day, though, she’d break free and run from this hell hole.

Olivia lit some candles and turned off the light, leaving the bathroom in a peaceful glow as she lowered herself down into the bubbles. She leaned back and grabbed the bottle of wine, pulling the stop and taking a long drink before settling it on the edge. Getting drunk sounded good too. Something she only ever did in the privacy of her apartment when she knew she wouldn’t be seeing anybody. Got to keep up appearances, Olivetta. God, she was pathetic.

Her phone buzzed again, and Olivia rolled her eyes, grabbing it to see what her mother wanted, her brow raising in surprise as she noticed two different message notifications on her screen. The first was her from her mother, of course, which she dismissed, but the second was from a number she didn’t recognize and she swiped to open the message.

Finally, got that poem you wrote tattooed on my side.

“Picture file attached…”

Being the curious journalist that Olivia was, she clicked it open, and her breath caught, choking a little at what she saw because holy hell, what a side it was! She felt herself drooling as her eyes traced the lines of the chest on her screen, long and defined and adorned with a scrolling black ink. The man definitely had a fine body, and the sweats he wore sat so low on his hips that it would take only a little slip and she’d be able to see the impressive package he seemed to be handling. The thought making Olivia hot all over and her pulse pound, reminding her it had definitely been too long since her last tumble in the sack.

“Jesus,” Olivia muttered, gaping at the photo. She was disappointed that she couldn’t see his face because it had to be handsome...right? With a body like that?

“Seriously, Olivia?” she chastised, with a roll of her eyes. Who thinks like that?

She stared at the image for a few more seconds, his v-lines alone holding her attention for longer than what was probably considered normal. Well, Olivia had her fantasy for “self-love,” she mused with a grin.

Olivia bit her lip as she struggled internally before throwing caution to the wind and started typing.

I think you have the wrong number.

She watched the screen, grabbing a wine bottle and taking another drink as she waited to see if he’d reply. It took a couple minutes, but soon the chat bubbles appeared, Olivia smiled; a nervous anticipation fluttering in her gut.

Shit, sorry…

Olivia took another sip and let her eyes roam over the photo again. She set her bottle down and smirked. It was Friday night, and she had no other plans, so why not have a little fun? She told herself as she typed out another reply.

No need to apologize. In fact, you just made this woman’s Friday night a little more exciting.

Again, it took a few minutes for a response. Whoever it was, they clearly weren’t paying that much attention to their phone, which only made Olivia want to see if she could change that.

“Oh yeah? LOL…” came back his reply.

Definitely. Your tattoo looks great, by the way, and so does all the rest.

Olivia pressed send and held her breath. The chat bubble appeared almost instantly this time, and she smirked. She had his attention.

You think so?

Oh yes….there isn’t a woman in the world that wouldn’t find that attractive.

Well, I wouldn’t know about that…

Olivia bit her lip.

Trust me.

I can’t trust you. I don’t know who you are.

Well, the man had Olivia there.

Maybe if you showed me yours….

Olivia giggled.

Sorry Casanova, it won’t be that easy. LOL.

Ahh…that’s not fair. You saw mine.

Olivia laughed, the fact that he actually sent a tear emoji cracking her up. She had no doubt that he never had to work hard to get anything from a woman, and she wanted to make him writhe a bit, but before she could reply, he sent another text.

Maybe some other time.

Gotta run ‘wrong number’, sorry again for the mix up.

“Well, damn,” Olivia sighed, staring at the screen. She didn’t bother replying and scrolled back up to once again stare at his image. Well, she had no idea what he looked like, but with a body like that, she didn’t need a face. Although...maybe he could lend his face for the night’s self-love activities.

Olivia laid back and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she let her hand travel down her front. A fine Friday night it would be indeed after seeing Mr. Sexy.

Ace put his feet up on the table tucked into the corner of the bar and leaned his chair back to balance on two legs, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He let the smoke out with a long sigh, glancing around the bar in annoyance. For a Saturday night, it was rather dead.

“What’s up, Walker?” Smokey asked as he threw back a shot of whiskey. “You look like you just fucked your mother.”

“Jesus, can you not say shit like that?” Ace sighed as he reached for his bottle of beer. “What does that even mean?”

“You look depressed.”

“I think if I was fucking my mother, I’d have bigger problems than depression,” Ace replied with an eye roll. “I’m just bored. Nothing’s been happening.”

“Nothing ever happens in this fucking town,” Smokey laughed, lighting a cigarette. “Why are you suddenly wanting shit to happen? We’ve been through enough. I figured you liked the quiet now.”

“I’m just...tired…”

“You probably just need to get laid or something.”

Ace let out a laugh. “Seriously, there isn’t even anyone I’d want to roll in the sack with.”

“Well, nobody you can have anyway,” Smokey said with a knowing smirk.

“Shut the fuck up,” Ace growled, regretting ever telling Smokey his ridiculous fantasy. The man constantly used it against him. “Hell, the closest I’ve gotten to getting laid in like forever is flirting with some random wrong number for a couple minutes,” he told as he pulled another drag from his smoke, and Smokey looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Come again?”

“I was showing off my latest tattoo and texted the wrong number. Apparently, I made some woman’s Friday night,” he said with a little smirk.

“She knew who you were?”

“Nah, it was just my chest, but it seemed to get her thrilled,” Ace laughed.

“So what happened? Phone sex?”

“No, I was meeting up with Tricia,” he shrugged. “She never replied after I said I had to run.”

“Oh well, was probably some lonely homemaker, anyway.”

“Maybe,” Ace chuckled. He had thought little about it and now he wondered if there was some housewife out there who was so bored with life that a text from a stranger was working her up.

“Well, let’s play some pool,” Smokey suggested, “Cause that’s about all the excitement I can offer you tonight bud,” he taunted as he got up.

“Yeah, be right there,” Ace called after him as he reached for his phone, which was vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was the same number he had accidentally texted the night before.

Figure I owed you one…

There was a picture file attached and Ace opened it, the front legs of his chair making contact with the floor again as he sat up straight and bit back a groan.

“Holy fuck,” Ace sighed as he stared at the photo. He felt an actual twitch in his jeans and his mouth went dry as he beamed at the sexiest pair of wet, sudsy legs he’d ever seen. They were balanced prettily on the edge of a bubble-filled tub with candlelights.

He immediately wanted them wrapped around him.

Maybe Smokey was right.

He needed to get laid.

It took him a moment before Ace managed to form a thought that wasn’t complete filth, then typed out a reply.

Fucking hell, girl! Warn a guy first…

The reply was almost instant.

You’re welcome!

“Come on, Ace,” Smokey called from the pool table as he set up the game. Ace got up and wandered over as he typed out a message.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to concentrate on what I’m doing now that I have that picture in my head.

What are you doing?

Hanging with a friend, about to shoot some pool, and I’m most likely going to lose now.

Ace chuckled and put his phone in his pocket, grabbing the pool cue that Smokey handed to him.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Ace said with a smirk as he set up to break. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and was suddenly annoyed that he wasn’t somewhere alone.