I help as best I can, though he does most of the heavy lifting. Once everything is loaded, he returns the carts while I wait for him to come back.
Once again, he grabs my hips and hoists me up to my seat because, seriously, this truck is ridiculously high off the ground.
Aaron slides behind the wheel and starts the engine. “You hungry, butterfly?”
My stomach growls in response, making me laugh. “I could eat.”
“There’s a burger joint about a mile up the road. We can grab some food before heading home.”
Home.
The word settles warm and cozy in my chest. It feels right, even though I've only just gotten here. For so long, I've been running, hiding, pretending to be someone I'm not. I've never really felt like I belonged anywhere.
But here, in this freezing city, with this sexy biker who claimed me as his, I finally feel like I’m right where I’ve always belonged.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“It’s really startingto come down now,” I say, pulling my truck under the carport and cutting the engine.
Pinky nods, staring out her window at the snow blanketing the yard. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
We got lucky, making it home when we did. The roads between the shopping center and here were already covered and getting slick as hell.
“Sit tight, butterfly.” I hop out of the truck, the cold air biting at my exposed skin, and hurry around to her side.
Opening the door, I reach up and grab her by the waist, lifting her down from the high seat like she weighs nothing. Her small hands grip my shoulders, and when I set her on her feet, her cheeks are flushed pink.
“Thanks,” she says, looking up at me with those big blue eyes.
I can’t help myself. I lean down and press a quick kiss to her lips. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands off her now that I’ve claimed her, and she didn’t run for the hills.
“Go on inside, baby, and I’ll bring this shit in,” I tell her, pulling the keys from my pocket and handing them to her.
“Yes, please.” She shivers, grabbing the keys and turning toward the door.
I watch her ass as she scurries away, her little legs moving quickly in those tight jeans. I chuckle to myself.
My Florida girl is definitely not used to a winter wonderland.
Turning back to the truck, I start grabbing bags from the bed. There’s a lot of shit to carry in—groceries, clothes, stuff that wouldn’t fit in the saddlebags when we left the beach, and all the other stuff we bought to make this place livable. I stack as many bags as I can on each arm and head for the door.
Inside, Pinky’s already cleared off the island in my kitchen. Damn, my girl works fast. She’s even pulled our food out of the bag and set it out on the now-clean surface.
“Thanks,” I grunt, hefting the bags onto the counter next to our dinner. “I’ll go get the rest.”
“I’ll help,” she offers, moving toward the door.
I shake my head. “Too cold. Eat your food before it gets cold.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but then nods and picks up her burger while I head back outside for another load. It takes three more trips to get everything inside, and by the time I’m done, my nose is numb and my fingers are stiff from the cold.
I kick the door closed behind me with my boot and drop the last of the bags on the floor. “Fuck, it’s coming down hard now.”
Pinky’s standing by the kitchen window, watching the snow with a look of wonder on her face. She turns when I speak, and I’m struck again by how beautiful she is in the warm light of my kitchen.
“It’s like a snow globe out there,” she says.
I strip off my gloves and toss them on the counter, then pull off my wet jacket and hang it on the back of a chair. Walking over to where she’s set out our food, I grab my burger and take a big bite. Cold, but still good.
