Pogue Parry tightened his grip on the handle bars of his motorcycle as he sped around a corner on the darkening highway that led back towards his home, his mind trailing back to his teen years when he'd crashed on this very pavement. Well, it hadn't exactly been a crash, but it wasn't an accident either.

His hazel eyes followed the yellow line as it curved again, he was ready to just head home, have a beer and head to bed, he was beat after working in the shop all day.

Who'd have thought that even after attending Spencer Academy he'd end up opening his own bike shop in Ipswich and not bothering with the perfect lifestyle his fellow brother's led.

Caleb Danvers, the born leader of their little 'gang' in high school was now on his way to being a lawyer, he got into Harvard like he'd wanted and still had the pretty Sarah Wenham, soon to be Danvers as of the past Christmas, on his arm. Tyler Simms was living in Boston as well, interning at one of his father's many companies until he had gained enough trust to take the reins. And Reid Garwin...good 'ol Reid, was god knows where in the world making the most of his inheritance and probably making his father roll over in his grave.

Pogue shook the thought of his old childhood friends from his mind. They weren't close like that now as adults, they'd grown apart right after graduation. It didn't surprise him much, not since their senior year had been one to make them or break them.

They'd all been a little too trusting to the new kid, Chase Collins, at first. But Pogue was always wary of him, especially because of Kate. The guy fawned over her – then again, back then who didn't – and it made Pogue's blood boil. He'd known from the beginning that the guy would be bad news, no matter how much the other tried to tell him otherwise. And bad news he was. Chase Goodwin Pope. Tried to kill each and every last thing they loved, from their parents to their girlfriends just to get to their powers. Pogue had wished, and still did sometimes, that he'd been the one to do the son of a bitch in, and not Caleb.

Pulling up to his house, the only light being the one outside his door flooding the cobblestone step with dim light, Pogue parked his bike behind the large black pickup truck that he also owned and slid off, pulling the dark helmet off his head revealing a haircut that still knocked his mother off her feet. A little longer then what would be considered an army cut. He'd been so sick of the 'bad boy' image he'd made himself, that he needed the change. He'd changed almost everything about him to get away from the image he'd gained in high school, the only thing that had stayed the same was spending his weekend nights at Nicky's bar and his bike.

He unlocked his front door, let out the large German Shepard mix he'd adopted from the pound and dropped his helmet and keys on the hall table.

The house was quiet, just the way he liked it, or maybe he didn't, he wasn't sure.

All he knew was that if the house was quiet he was alone, and he could be himself.

Pogue paused to let his dog back inside, before heading to the kitchen where he went to the silver dish and lapped at the water sitting on the floor, splashing the clear liquid everywhere. He chuckled deep in the back of his throat before crossing the cold tiles of the kitchen to the switch and turning on the light and illuminating the white cabinet filled kitchen, and with the open concept layout of his home overlooked the dining room and large family room. A random glass of water sat half empty on the dining table, while a book laid out on the arm of his leather arm chair; he'd been growing accustomed to life alone most days, unless Beau came around.

Pogue couldn't help but smirk as he opened his fridge and taking out a beer, his mind instantly wandering to the pretty brunette that held his fancy.

Her bright blue eyes fascinated him, they always seemed to sparkle with mischief or amusement. Her long legs mesmerized him. Her skin, and the warmth it gave off drove him mad. The way her nails raked over his scalp as he looked up at her as he kissed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs...the noises she made when he'd press his mouth against her hot core was enough to drive him up a wall.

He didn't understand why he just couldn't grow the balls and ask her to be his, but the girl was intimidating as hell. And obviously, she wasn't one for commitment.

Beau would usually bound out his door no later than ten am, enough for breakfast or another round of hot and steamy love making to go, he'd almost always walk her to the door with a towel or a bed sheet wrapped around his toned, naked waist.

He'd kiss her goodbye and she'd thank him for breakfast; and then she'd be gone.

Pogue tried to think of other things to distract him, but nothing came to his mind that was even near as distracting, but like always, came up empty handed with only his old neighbour on the brain.

He wandered back to the living room, pausing to throw a magazine onto the loveseat, before sitting down and letting himself sink back against the cool leather. He needed a hobby, because motorcycles was turning out not to be enough...he guessed he could consider Beau his hobby...

He'd met her by complete chance. After high school, after he'd dumped Kate who had been cheating on him the last few weeks of their relationship and after all the other Sons were long gone. He'd been moving out of the apartment complex he'd been living in since his first year at Spencer and Beau had been moving in right across the hall.

With little description, they'd had a lethal attraction and he soon found himself in the apartment across the hall than in his new home, more often than not.

She was a painter for a living, having dropped out of high school to pursue her dream, and was doing pretty well. He'd sit there and watch her paint; usually in one of his old shirts cut so that it did nothing to cover her gorgeous body from his view.

By the way he was thinking, you'd think Pogue was in love, maybe, maybe not.

He'd see what was in the cards before he jumped into the game again.