Tricky Pickle Motorcycle Club Book Box

I am without a doubt the most awkward human ever to enter a biker bar.

I wanted to have fun. To be wild. Something about The Leaky Skull brings out the crazy in me.

And so, surrounded by all the members of the Wild Hair motorcycle club, I made an announcement: I want to lose my V-card as a club bunny.

A brawl started. Everybody wanted to be the one.

It might have been flattering, if it wasn’t for all the blood.

To keep the Wild Hair in line, President Iron Jack placed my unique status under the club’s protection. They moved me into the clubhouse to keep me safe until it’s time for the deed.

But the one man I was aiming for the whole time? Merrick, the bar owner?

He’s the one who has been assigned to prevent anyone from popping the cork ahead of schedule.

Now the most awkward girl on the planet has to seduce the only man she’s ever wanted.

And his position in the club is at stake if he gives in.

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TRICKY PICKLE is a rom com between a nervous grad student trying on her wild side and an Army vet who doesn’t have time for this nonsense, with a side of hardened MC members who might have hearts of gold beneath all that leather.

It is part of the wildly successful Pickleverse, but you don’t have to read any other Pickle rom coms before this one. You can start your crazy adventure with the Pickle family right here.

Chapter 1: Marietta

I link arms with Symphony and Bailey as we cross the parking lot to our favorite bar, the Leaky Skull. It’s opening night after a three-month remodel, and we’re excited to see it.

Jenna catches up after locking the door to slip her arm around Bailey, then lets out a big whoop. “The four whores of the apocalypse are back together and ready to drink!”

We let out a cheer as we walk in lockstep, like we’re the jeans-and-sweater version of the Rockettes, ready to give a high kick.

The others all wear brightly colored heels that peek out from their fashionably frayed hems. Me, though, I’m five-ten and awkward about my height. I’m in silver rhinestone flats.

“Rhett is going to kill me if he finds out I’m here,” Bailey says, leaning forward to look at the rest of us. Her dark hair ripples forward in a shiny curtain.

“Oh, you newlyweds,” Symphony says. “Is Rhett already cramping your style?”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Bailey says. “I would cut off his balls.”

We all laugh as we squeeze between two jacked-up trucks, dropping our linked arms to get through.

“Where did you tell him you were going?” I ask.

Bailey turns sideways to shimmy between two oversized side mirrors encroaching on the gap. “The same wine bar we were supposed to try four months ago when we landed here the first time.”

Symphony looks at the narrow space with concern but holds up her boobs for a moment to avoid wedging them between the mirrors. She’s our group’s most well-endowed. “Can you imagine stodgy ol’ grumpy-face Rhett at a bar like this?” she says.

“God, no,” Jenna says, scooting through. “Do you think they made it more respectable after the remodel?”

“No chance,” Symphony says. “And based on all the motorcycles out front, the clientele isn’t any different, either.”

I walk between the trucks with minimal effort, being closer to a string bean than anything with curves.

When we’re all on the other side, Jenna waves at our surroundings. Several tall lights have the parking lot lit up like it’s day. “They sure have cleaned it up. It’s not nearly as edgy.”

I glance up at the neon sign of a skeleton drinking a beer. “At least the logo is the same.”

We all pause below it, like we’re paying homage to a work of art.

“Our lives sure have changed since the first time we came here,” Symphony says.

I nudge her with my elbow. “You landed your biker boy. Bailey got married. But Jenna and I are same ol’, same ol’.”

“True words,” Jenna says. “Maybe I’ll play the role of Marietta and jump on the bar to show off my tits.”

My face burns hot. “I won’t do that tonight.” Embarrassment makes my ears ring every time I think about what I did here a few months ago. I caused a ruckus by flashing my nonexistent boobs. The bar’s owners, Diesel and Merrick, had to sneak Symphony and me out the back afterward.

“You better not,” Symphony says. “Diesel will kick our asses if we stir up trouble in their bar again.” She reaches for the door. “You all ready?”

“Ready!” Bailey calls.

The previous scarred, metal door has been replaced with a heavy iron one. There’s a darker, more menacing skull twisted into the detail work.

“Scary,” Jenna says with a laugh.

When Symphony opens it, the noise assaults us. There’s a thrash metal band playing, same as all the other times we’ve come.

The counter runs along the back wall, lined with mirrors and booze bottles. It hasn’t changed. I scan it, looking for the man I want to see, but only Vicki and Jake are behind the counter, pulling beers.

Where is Merrick?

“The stage is way bigger,” Bailey says. “And there are actual men’s and women’s bathrooms.”

Jenna nudges Symphony. “You think your infamous single bathroom is still around?”

“Go look,” Symphony says. She’s got a knowing smile. And that’s no surprise. She’s been going out with Diesel for months. She visited the remodel several times while it was underway.

But she’ll always have a soft spot for the old bathroom, where she and Diesel had their first, well, collision. Heck, that’s why we all know this place.

Jenna bursts out laughing, and I turn to see what she’s spotted.

“The bathroom,” she says, pointing.

To the left of the bar, where the old “Outhouse” was, is a new sign. It reads, “Hookup Heaven.”

She pulls on my arm. “Let’s go check it out.”

I might as well look. I practiced a million things I could say to Merrick when I saw him again, but talking about the remodel might be the safest. He’s bound to be here somewhere.

I follow Jenna to Hookup Heaven. It’s currently unoccupied, although several people stand around it as if waiting to see who might give it a go.

A man whoops as Jenna and I approach.

“Two girly girls going in! That’s how to break it in! Diesel, you got cameras in there?”

I turn to spot Diesel, wondering if his brother might be with him. But Diesel crosses the room alone in his black Leaky Skull T-shirt, his tattooed arms swinging.

He lifts Symphony off her feet and twirls her in a circle. Her blonde hair billows out in a whirl as he holds her aloft.

Jealousy pangs. Diesel and Merrick look a lot alike, and I can easily picture Merrick doing that to me.

Except he doesn’t seem to want to. The few times we’ve been together haven’t helped my case. Once I was hanging onto two old bikers after drinking too many shots. Okay, one shot. I’m a lightweight.

The second was the infamous night I flashed everybody, and I wound up sleeping off my alcohol the entire time we were around each other.

And the third, well, I wound up confessing my crush to his brother.

“Let’s go in,” Jenna says, pulling me through the door.

The bathroom has the same toilet and sink. But now, there are funny metal bars attached to the wall at varying angles.

Jenna grabs one. “You can go at it from any direction!”

My face goes hot again. “What is that machine there?” I point to a metal box near the sink.

“A condom dispenser!” Jenna cries. “Sweet!”

I recognize the packet shape now. “Seems practical.”

“I’m going to buy one just for fun.” She digs in her purse for quarters.

I take in the room. There are more mirrors than before, including one on the ceiling. I peer at my upturned face, my long hair leaving dark waves against the silvery sweater. “I guess this is one of the things they did to make it appeal to a different crowd?”

Jenna stuffs her coins into the machine. “Probably so. Symphony said they were pushing to add customers who would buy higher-priced drinks. This is a novelty. Something to post on Instagram or whatever.”

Jenna pushes a button, and a condom drops into the open space at the bottom.

I watch her examine it from the mirror’s high angle. The part in her hair isn’t straight. Mine isn’t either.

She holds up her package. “I got strawberry flavored. Why would you want the flavor on the condom, though?” She shakes her head.

I turn to her, feeling momentarily disoriented as my perspective returns to normal. “You’re right. Seems weird you’d put your mouth on it with a condom on top.”

She shrugs and shoves the package into my little purse. “In case you get lucky with Merrick. And I’m sure somebody sucks strawberry dick. What do we know?”

“At least you’ve done it.” Here I am in grad school and still a card-carrying member of the V-club.

She puts her arm around me. “It’ll happen. And trust me, I might rather have never done it based on what I’ve had so far. Why are men so bad at it?”

I wonder if Merrick is any good. Symphony is all over his brother. She seems happy. Does being good in bed run in a family?

We head for the door but stop by a whiteboard on the wall that reads, “Leave advice for the next lovers.”

Jenna picks up the dry erase marker, which is attached with a string. “What should we say?”

I don’t have any advice. I’ve been foolishly obsessing over one man for months, and I haven’t even seen him since the last time I was here.

And on that occasion, I foolishly let it drop to Diesel that I was a virgin. I’m sure he told Merrick.

That alone might be enough to scare off the tatted-up, seriously hot owner of this bar. Maybe he saw me come in and ran to the kitchen.

Jenna taps the marker against her palm.

But then I have it. My head sizzles with the same electric excitement as the time I danced on the bar and flashed the entire Leaky Skull crowd. It’s like a wholly different Marietta takes over.

I’ve missed her. I only really feel her come over me when I’m here.

I take the marker from Jenna and write my words on the board.

“Virgin in the house. Find me and fix it.”

Jenna shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “You’re going to be trouble tonight, aren’t you?”

I laugh because I’m finally rushing with the adrenaline that Merrick’s bar always gives me. Anything seems possible. “I might!”

When we open the door to leave, a cheer goes up.

“Hope you broke it in right!” says a bearded man in a leather vest. His head is covered with a black skull bandanna.

“You wish,” Jenna says. “Just visiting for old time’s sake.”

“Merrick!” the man shouts. “It’s not working! Nobody’s so much as beat off in there!”

My whole body buzzes at Merrick’s name. That, along with the charge I got from admitting I was a virgin on the board, is a dangerously intoxicating combination.

Time seems to slow down as I turn to follow the man’s gaze. Everything sharpens, like I took a drug.

Merrick stands behind the bar, looking both the same and different from when I last saw him several months ago. His dark hair curls against his forehead. His blue eyes flash with excitement as he takes in his bar’s crowd.

But he has a new accessory.

I frown.

When did that happen?

He turns to a customer who is telling him an order. He leans in to listen.

I grip Jenna’s hand.

“What is it?” she asks.

I can’t point. I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.

Merrick is wearing a leather vest. He never did before. As he turns around to pull a beer from the tap, the logo stands out on his back, red and white over black.

It’s a skull with a crown, roses, and wide spreading wings. Around it are the words, “Wild Hair.”

It’s the emblem of the motorcycle club that hangs out here.

He pivots back around to give the customer the beer. There’s a patch on the front of his vest, too.

It reads, “Prospect.”

Sparks fly behind my eyes as I realize what’s happened.

While we were waiting for the bar to reopen, Merrick must have joined the Wild Hair. I’m betting his bar is their headquarters, or it will be.

Merrick. My obsession. My out-of-my-league. My he’s-banged-a-hundred-women to my zero men.

Jenna shrugs. “So, he has a vest.”

“It’s more than that,” I squeak out. “He’s in the motorcycle club.”

“Does that matter?” she asks.

I can’t even answer. I’m in shock.

I’ve read about men like him in my vast collection of MC romance novels. I watched Sons of Anarchy.

Has he killed somebody already? Will he end up doing hard time? Has he chosen an ol’ lady?

He’s gotten even more unattainable while I was away.

My blood drains from my face. I was so high a minute ago, and now I’m sinking too low, too fast.

I think I’m going to faint.