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The cop frowns at me.
His partner handcuffs Rooster, so now I have to do something. I can’t let him get arrested for helping me. “Please don’t. He really did rescue me.” I turn on what I’ve been told is my sweet, southern charm. “I can’t swim, and I was terrified.” I fire a glare at Brad. “My boyfriend watched and laughed. My ex-boyfriend,” I correct. “He saved me.” I nod to Rooster.
“Miss Shelby, the water is only four feet deep here,” the cop says, smirking at me like he thinks I’m an utter nitwit.
“I realize that now, officer,” I answer as respectfully as I can. “But in the moment, it was scary.”
He glances down at Rooster and then at his partner. “All right. Get him up.”
“What’s going on?” A low, commanding voice asks from behind us. I turn and yet another biker wearing the same patches these guys have is staring at us. The beautiful brunette at his side takes a step back as he drills Sparky and Jigsaw with a stare. “What did I tell you?”
My gaze skips to the patch over his heart. President.
“Uh-oh. Are you in trouble?” I whisper to Sparky.
Sparky snorts. Jigsaw laughs. “No.”
“Keep your boys in line while you’re in town, Prez,” the first officer says with a nasty sneer.
The president ignores the attitude and nods. “I’ll handle it.”
The cops write out a few tickets. Two for Brad, one for Rooster, and one for me.
“I didn’t go in the water on purpose!” I shout. I don’t have fifty bucks let alone five hundred to pay the fine.
The cop who recognized me shrugs apologetically. “Explain it to the judge. He’ll probably let it go.”
Like I have time for that shit.
“You still gonna be at the Tipsy Saddle Friday night?” he asks me.
“That’s why we were taking the photos.” If he shows up after writing me a ticket, I’m dumping a pitcher of beer in his dang lap.
This has been the worst day.
Except for Rooster.
“Dumb bitch,” Brad sneers.
“Kiss my go-to-hell!” I shoot back.
Brad hurls a few more insults at me, and the cops threaten to arrest him before he finally goes away.
“You sure you’re all right, Miss Shelby?” The cop asks me, throwing plenty of stink eye at the bikers now surrounding me.
“I’m fine.”
The cops take off on their bicycles, leaving me with the pack of bikers.
The biker president’s patient face slips into something more disciplinary as he zeroes in on Rooster. “What’d I tell you?”
“Z, the girl went in the water. What was I supposed to do, let her drown?”
Z turns his laser blue eyes my way and smiles down at me, dimples flashing. How does this terrifying looking man actually have dimples? “You all right?”
“Yes.” It takes effort to meet his commanding stare. “Rooster really did come rescue me.”
He nods once. The woman at his side tugs on his hand and whispers something in his ear. “You got this?” he asks Rooster.
Rooster confirms it with a chin lift, and the pack of bikers continues along the river walk. A few hassle Rooster as they pass, but mercifully, most of them ignore me.
Rooster’s gaze bounces from Sparky to Jigsaw and finally lands on me. “You need a ride, Shelby?” he asks.
“Actually, yes.” Oh, shit. “My purse is in Brad’s truck.” Hot tears threaten to rain down my cheeks. Brad’s probably long gone. He’ll probably toss my purse out the window. How did my day turn to shit so dang fast?
“Let’s go get it. Where’d he park?” Rooster asks.
Jigsaw’s already cracking his knuckles, apparently looking forward to the confrontation.
“You can’t.”
Rooster cocks his head, a devilish smile playing over his lips. “Why’s that?”
I wave my hands in the direction the cops rode off. “Because you barely missed getting arrested. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you.”
“You’re no trouble, darlin’.” He glances at the stairs leading to the street level. “Where’d he park?”
“In the garage on East Houston street. But really—”
“Let’s go,” he says, cutting off my protest. “We’re parked near there anyway.”
Jigsaw and Sparky follow us as I lead the way.
“That’s him!” I shout as we reach the end of the block. Like a lunatic, I point at the small silver truck about to exit the garage.
“Stay here,” Rooster orders.
“No way.” I reach out and grab his arm. “He’s not worth it. Please don’t get in trouble.”
His mouth quirks. “I like you.”
He extracts his arm from my hold and jerks his head toward the garage. All three of them jog over to the exit. Brad must see them because he revs the engine. He can’t go anywhere because the guard hasn’t lifted the gate yet.
My breath catches in my throat as Jigsaw slams his hands on the hood of the truck. Rooster walks right up to Brad’s door and yanks it open.
Shouts bounce off the brick walls. Rough, angry voices drowning out Brad’s pitiful protests. Brad must not give up my purse fast enough because, five seconds later, Rooster jerks my ex out of the truck and punches him. Sparky sneaks in between them and searches the front seats, emerging victorious with my green leather backpack purse raised above his head.
Rooster leans down and shares a few tense words with Brad, before releasing him and stalking away. His grim face twists into something almost apologetic when he notices me standing at the curb.
“Told you to stay over there.” He almost sounds angry.
“I was worried about you.”
The tension in his expression melts as he hands me my purse. “I can handle myself, sugar.”
Sugar’s a pretty common endearment at the bar. The guys who drop it as they’re trying to peek up my dress or extract my phone number out of me are usually annoying. From Rooster, I find it charming.
Somehow, we end up holding hands. Rooster glances down as if he’s surprised but not alarmed. “Let’s get you home.”
Butterflies stir in my stomach. Is he going to expect me to invite him in? Want some form of payment for the rescue? Will I be insulted if he doesn’t?
“How long were you two together?”
“Not long.” Whenever Brad kissed me, I basically zoned out. I’d go over a mental list of chores. Not even on purpose. There was no burning need or spark of desire. I can’t say any of that to this man who’s a stranger. This man who’s making my insides melt with need by simply holding my hand. I won’t admit that, either.
Just the simple, casual way Rooster swaggers down the sidewalk as if he owns the entire city is crazy-hot.
Three large, intimidating motorcycles are backed in against the curb. Rooster goes straight for the matte black one at the front of the pack.
I laugh, and he turns to me with a raised eyebrow.
“Who knew my white knight would drive a big, black Harley.”
“Ride, sugar. We ride, not drive. And no one’s ever accused me of being a white knight before.”
So there was something special about me that made him dive into the foul river water? A thrill runs down my spine at the thought.
My gaze is drawn to the bike again. A blue and silver skull and crown decorate the gas tank. Underneath it reads, Lost Kings MC.
“Lost Kings MC. You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Nope. Whole club’s out on a run to strengthen the bonds of brotherhood.” From someone else that might sound sarcastic, but Rooster seems genuine in his affection for his club.
“Bonding? If you’re all brothers, shouldn’t you already be bonded?” I knew at least a little bit from the bikers who drifted into the bar every now and then.
His smile fades. “It’s been a rough year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You’re sweet.”
Sweat rolls between my breasts, but that’s not why my cheeks are so hot. It’s the intense way Rooster’s staring down at me making me blush. His curious eyes search my face for a moment before he touches my chin, tipping my head back. “How old are you, Shelby?” he asks in a low voice.
“Twenty-two. Why?” I stare up at him, studying his face. With the beard, it’s hard to tell if he’s my age or a lot older.
Instead of answering my question, he leans down and presses his lips to mine.
Fireworks.
That’s the only way to describe it. There’s no checking out of this kiss. I’m one hundred percent invested. His kiss does more than light a spark of desire; I’m a raging inferno of need in two seconds flat.
When he’s tired of leaning over to compensate for our height difference, he doesn’t break the kiss. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and lifts me up and into his body. I loop my arms around his neck, hanging on tight. My legs dangle off the ground, and I almost wrap them around his waist, but I’m still painfully aware that we’re standing on a busy street in the middle of the day.
His beard is softer than I expected and tickles my chin. When I laugh, he deepens our kiss.
