“Nothing to tell.”
He chuckles. “Oh, I doubt that, sweetheart. I have a feeling there’s a whole lot about you that someone could tell.”
Lowering my eyes, I stare at the floor. There is, but I find myself wanting Screamer to work for the information, prove that he wants it, and not because it’s simply handed to him on a silver platter.
“Look, do you wanna work on my bike or not?” I finally ask.
He straightens. “Sure. You actually gonna leave it this time?”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?” he asks when I go silent.
I take a deep breath as I lift my gaze and lock eyes with him. Forcing the words out of my mouth, I say, “I didn’t exactly think this through. I’ll need a ride home.”
We stare at each other for a long minute, and my core tightens. God, he’s hot. Hot and a biker. And a man. I don’t need a man. I don’t want a man.
But you want him.
“Yo, Journey, I’ll be back,” Screamer shouts before walking around the counter. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll take you home.”
CHAPTER 14
SCREAMER
So am I, sweetheart.
I keep sneakingglances at Roxie as I drive her home. She’s leaning her head against the glass, staring out the window at the scenery we pass. When I opened the passenger door to the truck, she seemed shocked that I wasn’t taking her on my bike. I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid. Putting her on the back of my Harley would have sent a message I’m not ready to send, and she’s not ready to receive.
“You hungry?” I ask, desperate to fill the silence.
She stiffens at the sound of my voice, and I watch as she takes a deep breath, forcing her shoulders to relax.
“I could eat,” she admits as she slowly turns to face me.
I’m surprised by her response but pleased. “Good because I’m starving.”
She drags her eyes from my face to my chest to my stomach and then lower before raising it again. “You hardly look like you’re starving.”
My cock throbs behind my jeans. Not just at the double meaning in her comment, but also at the sass in her voice. I much prefer my women with a bit of attitude.
“Like what you see?” I tease. A blush stains her cheeks, and I grin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Roxie twists to stare out the window again. “I’ll eat at home.”
“Aw, c’mon,” I plead. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Right. You’re all the same.”
“All?”
“Bikers,” she responds simply. “Men.”
It’s my turn to stiffen. “Not all men are the same,” I say quietly.
She whips her head in my direction, staring at me as if silently willing me to explain, but I don’t. If she wants to know something, she’s going to have to use her words and ask me.
“Is the diner still on the other side of town?” Roxie asks after a beat.
