God, she’s so fucking pretty.
And obviously too good for someone like me.
Those apartments are not cheap, which means Blondie either comes from money or does a good job making her own. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got a nice little nest egg myself, I’m smart with what I make on my runs for the club, but I don’t exactly come by my money honest, and I doubt someone like this gorgeous pixie would be thrilled to know I’m well on my way to loaded by middle manning illegal weapons deals.
Another reason for me to get this girl home and forget all about those piercing amber eyes and that kiss that was hotter than hell itself.
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”
I grin as I rev the engine and hold out my hand for her to hop on. “Then you’re in for a treat, Blondie, because nothing beats the feel of the wind in your hair and all that power under you.”
But as soon as she’s on my bike, arms wrapped tight around my waist, her lithe little body pressed against my back, I know without question I was wrong.
Nothing beats the way Blondie feels wrapped around me while we tear down the road on my bike, and that is an even more dangerous thought than any of the other ones I’ve had since I laid eye on her.
CHAPTERTHREE
THEO
Isit possible to miss someone you don’t even know?
I don’t mean, can you wish you knew someone because you missed the chance to get to know them better which results in a feeling of regret over the opportunity that passed you by. I genuinely mean, is it possible to miss a perfect stranger, a good Samaritan that didn’t even tell me his name after he rode in on his valiant steed and rescued me from what was no doubt going to be an unimaginably worse night than I was already having?
Maybe he didn’t exactly ride in per se, but he definitely came to my rescue and then drove me home on his ultra-sexy motorcycle. And don’t even get me started on that kiss at the bar. Or the fact that my mysterious rescuer left me a little souvenir from our time together.
After I left Tony’s brothel, I drove back to Sabine Woods. I blasted angry, hardcore screamo music and cried my eyes out the entire way home, but when I pulled into my garage, I didn’t feel like going inside. So instead, I Googled dive bars around town and when MACs popped up as the seediest of them all, I ordered an Uber with that biker hangout’s address programmed into my GPS and no plan in sight.
MACs was rowdy and kind of gross, loud and full of people. I stuck out like a sore thumb and definitely got my share of dirty looks from all the women, but when I went straight up to the bar and ordered a Bud Light from Little John—yes, just like the one in Robin Hood—everyone pretty much left me alone.
Until they didn’t.
Those two younger guys, probably younger than me, started out nice enough, but when I kindly explained I was only there for a drink and not to take anyone’shog for a spin, the more outgoing of the two became a little more direct in his obvious intent, which is when I excused myself to the bathroom.
I thought about texting Summer so someone knew where I was, where to find my body if my attempt at spontaneity failed miserably, but I didn’t. I wasn’t ready for the phone call I knew would follow, one I’m still putting off three days after the fact, so I made sure Siri was ready for my blood curdling scream to call 911 and returned to finish my beer.
And that was when my decision to throw caution to the wind entirely paid off in the biggest way.
My spine still tingles when I think about my mystery man. His deep, gravelly voice. The heat from his palm against my back that I could feel through my sweater. His scent; the combination of leather and motor oil, tobacco and a spicy clean soap. It was positively intoxicating and when I turned to see who all of that belonged to, my heart practically stopped right there in my chest.
He was enormous, so tall and muscular. Half of his face was hidden by wavy jet-black hair and a black baseball cap, but it did nothing to hide the most handsome face I’ve ever seen. Dark scruff over a chiseled-from-stone jaw, full pouty lips. A Romanesque nose with a slight hook to the left, thick expressive eyebrow over an emerald-green eye, little dots of navy blue around his pupil.
My mystery man was beautiful, so sexy, and the fact that he stepped in when I was about to become a real-life episode of SVU proved he was also kind enough to do the right thing.
And all of those reasons are exactly why I wanted to kiss him.
Boy oh boy, I’m glad I did too.
I have never been kissed like that before nor will I ever be kissed like that again, and regardless of wanting to just keep kissing him for the rest of the night, it was fleeting, and once we got to my apartment, well, that’s when the real Theo showed her ass.
Gone was the semi-confident, newly single and independent woman who intended to grab life by the balls, and in her place wasme. The nerdy, awkward klutz who doesn’t need more than two beers to make a total ass of herself in front of the most amazing and mysterious man ever.
When I tried to get off his motorcycle, I overcompensated for my poor depth perception, swung my leg too high and nearly fell onto the cement. Mystery man caught me though, and for a second, I thought he might kiss me again, but he didn’t. He smiled the prettiest smile at me, pushed my glasses up my nose, then set me on my feet. I thanked him multiple times and ignored the urge to invite him into my apartment, turned around and tried to walk away with as much grace and sex appeal as I could muster, then disaster struck.
My heel got caught in a crack in the pavement, broke right off my Jimmy Choo wannabes, and I twisted my ankle and went down with an embarrassingly horrible scream-slash-barking noise. But that’s not all. When I face planted on the ground, I broke my glasses and managed to stab myself in the forehead with them, then bled all over the place and passed out because I don’t handle blood very well.
My ridiculous shenanigans forced my mystery man to come to my rescue again, and he carried my stupid ass into my apartment, gave me his keys to focus on while he stitched me up—three tiny butterfly stitches above my right eyebrow done like a pro—then he cleaned me up, waited for me to change and put me to bed with ice on my ankle before I did any more damage.
And while every single second of our time together was romantic and swoony and so very sweet, what really did it was the way he let me hang onto the worry stone from his key ring until I fell asleep. The same worry stone he removed from his keys and left on my nightstand at some point before he locked up my apartment and let himself out.
