“Nice.”
My knee is bouncing and I can’t think straight. He’s trying to make small talk, and the polite thing to do would be to ask him something surface, but I know everything about him already. Except . . .
“Is your girlfriend cool with you taking home strange women you pick up in dark alleys?” I don’t turn my head to see his expression, afraid of the softness I’ll see in his eyes at the mention of his girlfriend.
“Not sure. I don’t—” His cellphone rings.
I turn just as he nabs it from the center console. What was he about to say?
“Bitch. Thanks for helping us break down and load up.” He sounds half angry, half annoyed. “Yeah, well I hope the * was worth it.” He cringes and looks at me apologetically.
I smile. I’ve lived around instability my entire life, been around my fair share of guy talk. Nothing shocks me anymore.
“Right, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Later.” He ends the call. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t sweat it. I work in a bar, remember?” I notice where we are. “Oh, take a left here. It’s the ninth house on the right.”
The truck inches down the street. “Nice hood.”
“Thanks. It’s all right, except all the houses look the same. For the first month I lived here I kept pulling into the wrong driveway.”
“I can see that.”
We round to my house, and before the truck comes to a stop, my blood turns ice cold and my muscles tense. Shit, fuck, shit!
Hatch’s Harley is parked in my driveway.
Four
Fear of the things that I can’t see
Rage at the loss of control
None of them come to save me
And the damage at last takes its toll.
--Ataxia
Rex
I pull up to Mac’s house and turn into the driveway. “Sick. Is that a Fatboy?”
She doesn’t answer, and she’s sitting up so straight her back is off the seat. Her eyes are huge and staring at the Harley illuminated by my headlights. I throw the truck in park when the reality of what’s probably going on hits me.
Doesn’t have a man, my ass.
Even if they’re broken up, she’s obviously more than a little unnerved that I’m bringing her home with that dude here.
I turn toward her still-frozen frame. “It’s cool, Mac. I’m not a threat. Let me unload your bike and I’ll be out of here.”
Her head jerks and she swings her gaze to mine. “What?”
I nod to the Fatboy. “Your man, right? I don’t want to cause you any problems.”
“Ew.” Her face twists as if I offered her dog shit. “No, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s kinda my roommate’s.”
The way she stiffened when she saw that bike, there’s no way her and Harley guy don’t have history. I tilt my head and study her, trying to decide whether or not to believe her. No, she’s lying. Unless . . .
Adrenaline races through my veins and I squeeze the steering wheel to keep from making fists. “This dude dangerous? To you and your roommate?”
“Oh, no. I mean he’s got horrible manners and he’s kind of a dick, but that’s it.”
I relax my grip and my shoulders drop. Shit. What am I doing? I’ve wasted enough time as it is. I need to drop this bike off along with the girl who rides it and get to sleep. “Sweet. I’ll get your bike.”
I hop down from the truck and go around the bed, releasing ratchet straps. The low grumble of the garage door gets my attention. I look up briefly only to get stuck staring.
Mac’s ditched the messenger bag that she was wearing like a shield earlier. Her small waist and round hips swing in an unconsciously feminine way as she heads toward me. “I’ll help you walk it down the ramp.”
With what looks like little effort, she hops up on the truck’s back tire and swings her leg into the bed, one after the other. I try not to notice how good her legs look in the skin tight black pants she’s wearing, or how hot it is that she’s sporting a bad-ass pair of black leather biker boots complete with straps and buckles.
She grabs her side of the handlebars and places her other hand on the seat.
I do the same on my side. “Go slow. We’re at an angle.”
Little by little we inch the bike down the ramp to the driveway. She lets it go and I walk it into the garage.
I lean the bike onto its kickstand and motion around the space. “You know what this place needs?”
Her eyebrows pinch together in the cutest way. “What?”
“A car.”
She laughs, but the sound is, I don’t know, strained somehow. “Thanks again for the ride.”
Ah, so she’s getting rid of me. Hint taken.
“Sure thing.” I nod and move back to my truck.
She stands by while I put away my straps and push the bike ramp back into the bed. Every few seconds I take a peek at her and see her gaze shifting from me to her front door. Yep, this guy is definitely her boyfriend, or at least an ex.
Rounding the back of my truck to the front, I give her a final wave. “See ya.”