SIX MONTHS (A Seven Series Novel)

The loud motor made me uneasy and I had to trust that he wasn’t going to kill me on the turns. Reno secured a helmet on my head that was sized to fit a woman, and he didn’t baby-step it one bit when we hit the main road. I let out a few shrieks when he weaved around a car, but Reno seemed like the kind of man who owned the road on that bike. He wasn’t afraid of the raw power and knew how to handle it with cool confidence.

 

The wind cooled my legs, but my fair complexion wasn’t compatible with the afternoon sun and my thighs began to redden. When we reached a red light, Reno put his feet out for balance and revved the engine. It sounded predatory, and the seat vibrated beneath me. I rested my hands on my hot thighs and wet my dry lips.

 

God, I had to admit I felt totally badass.

 

A car rolled up on our right and I heard one of those “Yeows” that a guy makes when he’s catcalling. It didn’t come from the driver, but someone in the back seat of the car who leaned over to get a better look at my legs.

 

“Too bad she’s with that fucker,” the guy in the back said.

 

I got mad and gave them the finger. The driver laughed and I grinned, putting my hands back around Reno’s waist.

 

Then I heard a thick voice in the back seat of the car call me a cunt. It should have fueled my fire like it would Lexi, but things like that embarrassed me, so I looked away and leaned against Reno’s back, holding him as if he were my boyfriend.

 

Then I heard a click and looked to my right.

 

“Say you’re sorry,” Reno said in a deep voice. A calm voice, but I felt it vibrating through his back.

 

I sat up straight when I saw his right arm was extended with a gun in his hand.

 

“You can apologize, or I can track you across the city. How ’bout that?”

 

“Sorry, goddammit,” a young man griped before the windows rolled up.

 

The light blinked green and the car sped away. My heart raced as Reno made the gun disappear. I glanced around, but we were the only ones at the small intersection.

 

My mouth was opening to say something when he glanced over his shoulder at me. “I’m proud of you.” He throttled the engine.

 

“For what?” I yelled through the helmet.

 

He lifted my facemask. “For sticking up for yourself. I don’t step in when a man is appreciating a beautiful woman, no matter how juvenile he goes about it. Let’s just say he caught me on a good day, calling you a name like that.” Reno lowered my visor. “Hang on tight.”

 

The engine growled and we took off.

 

Through hand gestures and shouting, I directed him toward my trailer. Suddenly, the bike veered off the main road and pulled into a Sonic drive-in. As soon as we eased into a parking spot, he cut off the engine.

 

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

 

“Having lunch. Lexi is going to starve me to death waiting for the party tonight. A man’s got to eat.”

 

I got off and was fumbling with the helmet when he turned around and undid my chin strap. As he slowly pulled it off, my hair fell across my face.

 

He looked down at me, still wearing his shades. “You did real good, April. How was your first ride?”

 

“Unforgettable.” I smiled, scraping my fingers through my bright hair, which was now a tangled mess.

 

He held out his arm, coaxing me to walk toward the outside seating area. It felt good to sit in the shade and feel a gentle breeze on my neck.

 

“I love all this sunshine,” I said, wiping dirt off the mesh table with my forearm. “I hope we get to keep it for a little while.” I turned around and stared at the menu that was sitting between the tables on a sturdy pole. “What do you feel like eating?”

 

“Double bacon cheeseburger, large fries, and a banana shake,” he said without missing a beat.

 

I slowly turned my head to give him a surprised look. “Are you sure you don’t want to just eat light? There’s going to be a lot of food at the party.”

 

“This is eating light. I burn off a lot of energy,” he said, sliding his shades on top of his head.

 

I admired his rich brown eyes, which were deep-set and pensive. Reno had a serious expression with frown lines in his forehead and a clean-shaven jaw. His hair was shorter on the sides and long enough on the top that I could pinch it. So clean-cut, and yet so tough-looking—like a cop or a soldier in civilian clothes.

 

“Order whatever you want. I’m paying,” he said, placing his leather wallet on the table. Reno wore a white undershirt with a blue button-up over it, but it wasn’t buttoned. I could see part of a gun strap that went over his shoulder. He caught the direction of my gaze and closed it up to conceal his gun. Then he placed his forearms on the table and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t say much. Most women talk a lot to fill in the silence.”

 

I shrugged, grateful I hadn’t tumbled into a trashcan by now. “Do you always carry a gun?”

 

His mouth turned down in a contemplative way. “Most of the time. It’s part of my job.”

 

That explained it. “You’re a cop,” I said.

 

Reno shook his head. “Private investigator. I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you—it’s dangerous work.”

 

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