So I wasn't going to start this until I finished some of my other works because I know they deserve my full undivided attention, and you all (my lovely readers) deserve closure on the WIP's… but this one has been eating away at me and I am desperate to know what you all think.

This story is based on the fiction "Shame on Me, You Fooled Me Twice' by don't boop my nose from the Austin & Ally fandom. I loved that story when it was published some years ago, and I've decided to bring it to the Riverdale fandom for additional enjoyment. I have taken a lot from the original, but have also added a lot to make it my own. All credit for the plot line goes to don't boop my nose.

DISCLAIMER:

I do not own, nor do I profit from, the Archie Comics, the CW Network program 'Riverdale' or the characters therein. They are simply used in the following story for my own entertainment. No copyright infringement intended.

XoXoX

CHAPTER ONE

She wondered if the vibration would feel good between her legs.

The early evening sun caught the chrome of a Harley Davidson™ parked a few spots over, gleaming in the sweltering summer heat. She sat in the driver's seat of her car and waited for the song that was currently playing on the radio to end, oddly fixated on the two-wheeled vehicle in her periphery. It was simple machine, painted matte black and donned with shiny chrome, worn leather saddlebags and a steel-gray crown embossed below the initials F.P.J.

She imagined what it would feel like to ride; wind whispering through her hair and around her body, her arms wrapped around a man with a tough sounding nickname, the engine purring beneath her denim-clad thighs. The mystery man whisking them away would look just like James Dean in Rebel without a Cause, complete witha disgustingly unhealthy yet devastatingly sexy cigarette hanging from his pouty lips…

She sighed.

She'd been parked in her spot for all of two minutes and her sex-deprived imagination was already getting the better of her. She wondered only briefly where her new affinity for motorcycles was coming from, then quickly chalked it up to the fact that her parents were so strongly against bikes and their leather-clad owners, that it made them appeal to her that much more.

In her fantasy-riddled and rebellious mind, she would ride a Harley just like this one.

And the man who drove it. She'd ride him, too.

Elizabeth "Betty" Cooper glanced down at her phone propped in the cup holder and scoffed. There were over a dozen missed calls and texts from one person in particular that she was keen to ignore. Nothing he could say would make her feel better about the situation she currently found herself in, so she decided it would be in her best interest to continue to ignore everything until she had reached her destination.

With a deep breath she cut the engine of her old restored car and glanced behind her into the back seat. Even with towers of boxes full of her belongings obstructing her view, the car felt so utterly empty. She was headed home, but instead of feeling relief or excitement for what awaited her, she was feeling the urge to put it off for as long as possible. In fact, with each mile that brought her closer to home, her sense of dread increased exponentially, as did her headache, and her ability to breathe lessened just the same.

She had needed a break, and so had pulled into a rest stop along the highway.

A bus full of travelers pulled in just after her and she decided to hurry inside, opening the car door and slamming it shut behind her. The last thing she needed was to get stuck in line forever for some aspirin and a refreshment. Eight hours into a cross-country trip from California to New York, she was somewhere in the middle of Utah with days left to go, and while she was in no hurry to get to, she was longing to just be home. It had been four long years since she had been back there, with the exception of a Christmas or two, but there was also a reason she left in the first place.

After a trip to the ladies room and a quick browse around the convenience store inside the rest stop, she grabbed herself a Lunchable™, small bottle of aspirin and a Coca-Cola™ to have in the car. With her items tucked in a bag around her wrist, she found herself browsing the small souvenir shop that was across the way.

She was tired and did not feel like driving the additional five hours she had to go before finding a place to crash for the night. Her head was now pounding, and the ache only intensified when she yawned. She decided to pop an aspirin right away, and figured browsing around the souvenir shop would be a good distraction while she waited for the pain killers to kick in.

She looked through t-shirts, hats, bumper stickers and mugs; all the usual crap with basically the same desert photos on them. As she was about to turn and leave, glimmering sparkles caught her eye and she made her way over to a small case under some strategically placed lights that held some Swarovski™ crystal ornaments. She smiled lightly as she looked through the many pendants, her eyes landing on one in particular that she was, for some odd reason, drawn to.

Carefully she reached between the cactus charms and the cowboy boot charms and pulled a small crystal snake off the metal arm that held them all, and held it at eye level in front of her. She watched as it twirled before her, the ebbs and twists of the snake body catching the light and casting small sparkles all around her.

"Get it, you know you want it," a breathy voice said from behind, startling her. It caused a knee-jerk reaction that resulted in the ornament slipping from her fingers and falling to the ground. The snake shattered into what felt like a hundred tiny pieces on the polished concrete, and Betty's heart sank at the loss.

The woman at the register watched and sighed. "I'm sorry ma'am, you'll have to pay for that. Nineteen ninety nine, plus tax."

"Damn it," Betty muttered, quickly bending at the knee and carefully picking up the broken pieces of crystal. As she placed several broken pieces into her cupped palm, the same voice that had caused her to drop it in the first place spoke again, this time laced with amusement.

"Hmph, and they say snakes have soft underbellies…"

"I'm sorry—you think this is funny?" she snapped before standing and turning around, getting her first look at the man behind the voice. She froze for only a moment as she took in his dark hair and leather jacket, not exactly what she had expected to see when she spun around.

The man was taken aback by her anger. "You don't need to be a bitch about it," he scoffed as he plucked the string that held only the head and price tag of the now broken ornament from her hand. "And for the record, I did think that was funny."

Betty swallowed and lost her ability to speak as her eyes absorbed the striking man standing before her. The way he scowled at her and shook his head had quite an effect on her, though she was certain it was not the kind he had intended.

She cleared her throat and straightened her spine, getting a grip on herself. "Well, I didn't think it was funny at all and now it cost me twenty bucks, so..."

He leaned in close. "Then you need to take the stick out of your ass and lighten up." He stood straight again, his height towering over her as his scowl deepened. "Give it to me, I'll pay for it."

Before Betty could respond he grabbed her wrist and rotated it, dumping the broken contents into his own palm, and she cursed the shiver that ran down her spine from the brief contact of his skin on her own. He exhaled loudly.

She stared blankly at the man before her in his blue jeans and brown boots. He wore a plain black leather jacket that hung open in the front, showing off his tight white shirt and the flannel that was tied loosely around his waist. From what she could tell in her quick appraisal, he was fit, but not too muscular. His shoulders were broad and his waist was thin. With the leather motif and a hardness to his stare, he certainly wasn't her usual type, but the way his scowl made her insides tingle did not go unnoticed.

He brushed past her and she turned on her heels. Of course he had to smell amazing on top of it all... She cursed at her body for reacting this way toward him when she wanted so badly to be angry with him.

She followed him to the register as she fished through her wallet for money, but he was too quick and had paid for it already by the time she pulled her cash out. He handed her the plastic bag containing the broken pieces and quirked a brow at her. "There's some change in the bag. Buy yourself a sense of humor."

Her brow furrowed and her jaw dropped as she watched him walk away and out of the store. Asshole.

Betty knew that her headache probably played a part in her short temper, not to mention her fatigue from the long lonesome drive. Her reaction was probably a little harsh, but that man's audacity was on a whole other level of rude. Sure, be defensive of the way she snapped, but call her a bitch and tell her to take the stick out of her ass? That had been a bit much.

After several long moments of staring at the now-closed door, she snapped herself out of her state of shock. It was time to shake off the bizarre encounter and get moving. Her stomach was growling and she was looking forward to breaking into her road snacks once she was back on the highway.

She opened her ice-cold soda and took a long sip as she walked out of the building. Swallowing it down, she took a second small sip and savored the sugary carbonation as she walked around to the side of the building where she had parked. She had been digging through her bag looking for the little bottle of aspirin, needing to take the edge off of this growing headache. She pulled it out and immediately popped the lid, pulling out the cotton and two little pills. Her movements ceased when she noticed him two spots down from her car, sitting on the very motorcycle she had been fantasizing about just moments earlier.

Of course, she thought. Why wouldn't the bike belong to him?

Taking a deep breath, she approached her car slowly, hoping beyond hope he wouldn't notice her. As was her luck, he noticed her almost immediately and he flashed her an exaggerated smile as he waved with just his fingers. She rolled her eyes and popped her aspirin, sipped another small bit of soda then scoffed. "You again…"

"Me again. Did you end up buying a sense of humor?" he called over to her, the cold edge of his voice from earlier was gone and instead he sounded… amused.

"I used the change to buy you some couth instead," she smirked.

Smiling, he shook his head at her and Betty felt a little bit of the weight that their earlier encounter had caused, lift from her shoulders. She watched as he ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it back and out of his eyes. He put his helmet on and thrust down on the kick start, the bike roaring to life and rumbling Betty to her core.

She licked her lips, got into her car and shut the door, unable to resist looking over her shoulder at him one more time. He winked at her through the helmet and her stomach fluttered.

Betty watched through the rear view mirror as he backed out of his parking spot. She had expected him to take off, tires squealing and smoking, but after moving away slowly the bike came to an abrupt stop. She watched, titillated, as he tried to rev the bike and get it moving again, and listened as the low rumble died out into silence.

He tried the kick start again and the bike made a noise she was certain wasn't normal. He continued to try and bring it back to life but to no avail. He removed his helmet and ran his hand through his hair again, this time in frustration before he flipped the kick stand back down and hopped off to inspect things.

Betty knew she should have left then, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him as he struggled to get the motorcycle to run. She opened her Lunchable™ and meticulously placed a slice of cheese and then a slice of turkey onto a rounded cracker and bit half of the little sandwich away, continuing to watch like a spectator at a sporting event as the sexy man tried to get his bike to start. After several long minutes he hung the helmet up on the handlebar and took out his phone and made a call, pacing back and forth.

Betty finished off her first cracker sandwich and began building herself another.

When the call ended he put his phone away and glared in Betty's direction. Caught in the act of watching him, she let out a nervous laugh. She didn't mean to poke fun at his unfortunate situation, but it had just bubbled out of her. He quirked his brow at her and it only made her smile, bite her lip to stop another chuckle, and look away.

He moved slowly over to the side of her car and bent at the hip, leaning on the open passenger side door and peeking into the open window at her. "You think this is funny, princess?"

Betty shook her head no, but snorted out another bout of laughter anyway.

He smirked and shook his head. "Well, I'm glad you at least found your sense of humor."

Betty sucked in a deep breath and looked forward at the steering wheel, sobering up quickly. Just the sound of his voice was affecting her.

He craned his neck to look into the back seat and took notice of all the boxes and empty water bottles. "You homeless or something? Living out of your car?"

Betty scrunched up her nose. "No, I'm in the middle of a cross country trip…"

He nodded. "Where are you headed?"

Betty thought for a moment. Was it wise to tell a complete stranger where you were going? Probably not. She had already admitted she was on a road trip, though, and it was painfully obvious that she was on her own. Was she concerned for her safety enough to stop the conversation with the man-candy hanging into her car by ignoring his questions? Apparently not.

She cleared her throat. "New York," she answered. She was honest, but vague. After all, she could be going anywhere in the state of New York by that admission. No harm, right?

"Me too."

Betty quirked a brow and nodded toward his Harley™. "Well it doesn't look like you're getting there anytime soon," she said with a coy smile. "I guess that's payback for calling me a bitch."

He smirked back. "That would seem to be the case."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What, that it's payback?"

"No, that you're a bitch." His scoff quickly morphed into a smile.

Betty shook her head but couldn't wipe the smile from her face. "Very funny…"

He pushed back and stood up straight, forcibly drawing her eyes to his groin as it was the only thing visible through her open window now. She swallowed as she stared at the definition beneath his tight white shirt. She even swore she could see the sharp cut V that traveled south into the waistband of his jeans.

"You know what else is funny?" he called to her, unbuttoning his riding gloves.

She snapped her eyes away from his body and blushed. "What?"

He moved back a few steps so that their eyes could connect through the window again and crossed his arms in front of his body. "Karma."

There was a long pause as Betty stared blankly at him. "What do you mean?"

The dark haired man shrugged his shoulders and suppressed a smile. "Come around here and have a look at your tire."

Betty felt a wave of heat wash over her face as she set her snack down on the center console and got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. She eyed him suspiciously as she moved around the tail end, then followed his gaze and found that her rear passenger side tire was completely flat.

She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white for a split second before she lessened the squeeze. Taking a deep breath she quickly opened her palms and spread her fingers at her sides. Not now, Elizabeth.

"Did you know it was flat this entire time?" she asked, all amusement gone from her expression.

"I noticed it right around the time I caught you laughing at me, yes." He moved away from her, back toward his previously abandoned bike.

Betty let her shoulders slump as she moved over to the open passenger window. She leaned in and reached across, grabbing the keys from where they hung from the ignition. She could feel his eyes on her ass, but rather than make her mad, it exhilarated her a little bit. She lingered a second or two longer than she needed to before she pulled herself back out the window and made her way back over to the back end of the car.

She stuck the key in and turned, popping the trunk and stuffing the keys into the front pocket of her cutoff denim shorts. The sexy biker man stood back, leaned against his motorcycle with his arms crossed as he watched her pull box after box from her trunk and pile them on the pavement beside her.

After a few minutes she wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and leaned in, hauling the spare from the trunk and dropping it to the ground with a bounce.

"Do you know what you're doing with that thing?" he called over to her.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Do you?" she said nodding toward the stalled bike he leaned on.

He put his arms up in mock defense and continued to watch as she pulled the jack out and set it up. He was impressed, to say the least, as he watched her skillfully jack the car up and pull the tire iron from the trunk, quickly and expertly getting to work.

Betty was overheating fast in the blazing sun, and she found that when she went to twist the lug nuts off, two of them fought back. She moved on and rid the wheel of the easiest three, but try hard as she might, the last two just wouldn't come loose.

She stood back with a huff. Breathing heavily she turned and looked at him, putting her hand on her hip. She really didn't want to involve him, but…

"Will you help me?" she finally asked, not missing the way his eyes raked over her glistening chest as she shielded her eyes from the sun. "I know you have no reason to after the way I snapped at you, but I'm desperate. I don't want to be stuck out here all night."

He pushed off his bike and slowly moved toward her, his arms still crossed in front of his chest as he stepped up to her. "Let me ask you a question…"

Betty shifted her weight and went on high alert as he entered her personal space. "Okay…"

He rubbed his chin. "How badly do you want that tire changed?"

She backed away from him, immediately suspicious of his tone. She had definitely not missed the way his eyes flicked to her cleavage before returning to her face, not that she was helping herself any with her choice of low cut shirt, but still...

"What exactly are you insinuating?"

His expression softened and that sexy smirk reappeared. "Get your mind out of the gutter, princess. I'm not propositioning you, if that's what you think." He looked her up and down, blatantly this time. "You're not my type."

She was irrationally offended. "Is that so? What exactly is your type?"

He scoffed. "I typically go for women who don't have the personality of a doorknob."

Betty deadpanned. "Gee, thanks."

"My pleasure."

She shook her head and sighed, motioning back to the tire. "What are your conditions?"

"Well, as you clearly know, my bike is experiencing a malfunction at the moment. It needs a part that I don't have access to out here. I called in a tow, but I'm on a deadline and like you, I need to get to New York."

Betty was taken aback as she looked at him incredulously. "You… you're not suggesting…"

"Yeah," he huffed. "I am. I will help you get that tire off and changed if you let me ride with you."

"Ride with me?" she said looking up at the sky and shaking her head.

"Ride me, yes."

Her head shot back down. "What did you just say?"

"You're hearing things," he said as he looked at her, concern on his handsome, brooding features.

Did her tired mind really imagine that he'd said that, or was he messing with her? She shook her head to rid herself of the erotic images now flashing through it.

"I cannot drive hundreds of miles with a complete stranger," she said.

"It's a hell of a lot safer than driving alone…" he disparaged.

"Not if you're a serial killer!"

"Look who's talking. You're the one in there obliterating innocent reptiles. You know they say homicidal behavior starts with small animals…"

Betty couldn't help but laugh as she turned away from him and wiped the sweat from her forehead. This entire situation was completely insane.

He watched her laugh in disbelief, a leeriness still in her eyes when she looked up at him again and studied him for a long couple of moments. But there was also something else. Curiosity maybe? He could see the wheels turning in her head, so he stuck out his hand, hoping she'd cracked. "You in?"

Betty closed her eyes and huffed. "This is a terrible idea."

The man before her gave her yet another knee-weakening smirk as he shrugged. "Just because it's a bad idea doesn't mean it can't be a good time."

Betty thought on this. If anyone who knew her found out she allowed a complete stranger to hitch hike with her across the country, alone in her car, they would send her to have her head examined. It wasn't like her to throw all caution to the wind, and yet, something about this man excited and comforted her all at the same time. Sure, she was a hornier than a room full of cats in heat and he looked like sex on legs, but there was still something else about him that called to her.

She wasn't ready to let this man walk out of her life just yet.

She sighed. "What other choice do I have?"

"Well, you could always ask him to change your tire," he said as he nodded toward a large scary-looking man who had seemingly been watching her work all along. The man looked straight out of a horror movie.

Betty shook off the chill that rattled her and reached forward for sexy man's hand, shaking it. "I'm in! I'm in... Just… get me out of here," she said with a cringe, ignoring the spark she felt when his hand grasped hers.

He smirked at her as he dropped her hand and immediately shrugged off his jacket. Betty stood back and blushed when he held it out to her, trading his jacket for the tire iron in her hand.

She couldn't help but stare at him as he crouched and began to crank.

The muscles in his back and shoulder blades flexed as he put all his effort into twisting the stubborn lug nuts. She appreciated, even more now, that his thin white shirt turned out to be a wife-beater undershirt, and she could see his fit arms flexing as he put in a little extra effort. Even the little moles on his arms looked sexy enough to lick…

God, she was pathetic.

"For the record," he said as he strained, startling her from her thoughts. "I would have offered to help sooner…" He grunted. "But there's something unbelievably sexy about a woman who knows what she's doing when it comes to cars." The lug nut he was working on finally pried loose and he cranked it off, moving the iron to the last.

Betty bit her lip and blushed, grateful that his back was still to her as she bounced on her toes a little. She seized the opportunity to look around them, and when she was certain that the coast was clear, she held his jacket under her nose and inhaled deeply. Her knees almost gave out. A dull ache formed between her legs and she squeezed her thighs together, yearning for any form of friction she could muster. Even the smell of him had her tingling.

She was beginning to question her own sanity for thinking it was a good idea to ride share with him. How was she going to contain herself while cooped up in the car with him for god-knows how long? She wasn't a promiscuous person, but she was no introvert either.

She watched as he set the tire iron down and removed the flat tire from the car. He quickly lifted and positioned the spare in its place. It took a few minutes for him to re-tighten all the lug nuts and set the car back down, but before long he was standing in front of her, lifting his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his forehead and innocently exposing taught forbidden skin. "All set."

Betty gulped. Damn.

She blinked a few times and tore her eyes from the sinful trail of dark hair beneath his navel and looked at his handiwork. "That was fast, are you sure it's on tight?"

He smiled as he set the tire iron back in her trunk. "I've got a few screws loose, as you'll soon find out, but none of them are on your wheel," he said. He grabbed the damaged tire and lifted it with ease, his muscles rippling again as he placed it in the trunk and carefully placed her other things back in around it. "We should probably stop tomorrow and get a new tire put on, though. This spare is really not meant for long term use."

Betty nodded. Tomorrow… right. So this was really happening, then…

Just then a tow truck pulled into the lot and crawled its way over to them, the sexy man giving the driver a nod and walking beside the truck over to his motorcycle.

Betty busied herself by moving over to the trunk, double checking that all her things had been put back and she shifted a few things around, grabbing one of the larger tote bags from the back seat and placing it in the trunk to make room for whatever belongings he opted to bring with him.

She watched as he pulled balled up clothing from his saddlebags, as well as the backpack that had been strapped to the back end of the bike. He walked them over to her and set them on the hood of her car where she had left his jacket.

"Mr. Jones?" the tow driver called out to him. He turned on his heel and made his way back over. Betty silently picked his things up and folded them, a habit of hers, as she absorbed the morsel of information she had just learned.

Mr. Jones, she repeated in her head. She was beginning to think there was something very wrong with her, because even his name felt sexy in her brain.

Carefully she placed his things on the backseat where she had made room and shifted a few more things around. By the time she was finished he had shaken the tow-drivers hand and was walking back over to where she leaned against the car, a black carrying case of some sort hanging from his shoulder. She noticed he was careful with it.

"We should really get going," she said as he approached her. The sun was getting low and she had a target to hit.

He nodded. "Want me to drive?"

Betty quickly pushed off the car and shook her head. "No, I need to be in control of this situation right now," she said seriously. She made her way to the other side of the car and listened as he opened the passenger door and slid in.

"Whatever you want." They each closed their door behind them and she watched as he stared at his bike being loaded up onto the flatbed with a frown.

She didn't really know what to say. She assumed he'd made some sort of arrangement to have it taken to wherever his final destination was, but he was clearly upset that he would not be going with it. Feeling awkward, she backed out of the parking spot in silence and made her way back out onto the highway.

Mr. Jones looked down at her mostly uneaten Lunchable™ and helped himself.

"Hey!" she scolded, but the smile in her voice betrayed her. He smirked back as he ate a piece of cheese followed by a slice of turkey and a cracker.

"Who even eats these anymore?" he asked with a full mouth. "What are you, ten?"

Betty feigned insult but chuckled anyway. "I don't see you complaining," she said and took some for herself, brushing her fingers against his in the process. "Mr. Jones…"

He looked around the car for a moment and spotted the souvenir bag at his feet. He lifted it. "Did you even open it?"

Betty glanced at the bag then back to the road. "No, what's the point? It's broken anyway.

He set the bag in her lap. "Is it, though?"

She furrowed her brow and with one hand on the steering wheel, carefully reached into the bag and pulled out the snake pendant… in one piece. "What the… how did you-"

"You seemed to like it," he said, smirking. "So I paid for the other and bought you a different one. You were too busy looking through your wristlet to notice.

Betty couldn't help the smile and shook her head.

"Huh, would you look at that? A genuine smile." He held out his hand. "Gimme."

Betty handed him the pendant and watched as he leaned forward, looping the thin string around her rearview mirror and letting it dangle. She couldn't help the warm feeling that came over her as she stared at it, the light catching and twinkling around the interior of the car. "Thank you."

They were quiet for a while as he lay his head back and shut his eyes, the breeze playing in his hair. It wasn't until the sun began to set and illuminated the horizon in a bright orange glow that he turned his head to her, studying her profile. "You got a name?" he asked her softly.

Betty felt the butterflies rise to life within her again as she looked over at him. "Betty," she said softly. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Jones."

The corner of his mouth upturned into a slight smile as his eyes drifted shut and he turned his head forward again. His voice was breathy as he spoke. "It's nice to meet you too… Betty…"

tbc

XoXoX

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