Because, after all, motorcycle guys were mean brutes with chains and knives. Or perhaps that was only what her overactive imagination conjured up?
But the racket had nothing at all to do with her imagination—overactive or not.
Charging down the stairs like a bull on a run, Chloe made a beeline toward the front door, unlocked it, then swung it open so hard, the force almost made her lose her balance.
The cool oceanic breeze slapped the warmth right off her cheeks, which really didn’t matter because both cheeks warmed right back up as soon as she laid eyes on thedisturbance.
The man on the motorcycle was like nothing she imagined. That busy brain led her to believe as soon as she opened the door, a scruffy hoodlum would be seated on the chopper with a bandana wrapped around his head, an untamed beard hanging from his chin, and a cigarette attached to his mouth. Not that anything was wrong with a man who preferred to don any or all of that, mind you.
However, this guy—the term hottie was actually a better fit—was just as well-crafted as the machine his tight, jean-covered bottom sat on. Short, blondish-brown hair, chiseled build.
Almost perfect.
But, perfect-looking or not, he still dragged her out of the sleep she so desperately needed.
“Hey!” she shouted, chest puffed out to show meaningful intent.
The cool, fully chiseled, motorcycle guy who pulled a black half-helmet on top of his head, looked toward her. His entire face was outfitted with a quizzical expression while his mouth was set in a hard line.
“Mind cutting out the noise? Some of us are trying to get some sleep around here.” Chloe stood in the doorway, hands on hips, probably looking the way she swore she’d never; just like her grandma did when she scolded the neighborhood kids playing on the front lawn.
The guy smirked and gifted Chloe a cocky head tilt that, for some odd reason, made her heart race a little faster.
Eyes now laced with a purposeful glare, he killed the bike’s engine, sitting, his hands positioned on the handlebars. “Uh, sorry about that. I’m not used to having any neighbors.”
Chloe huffed, glancing first to the left, then to the right, at the two cottages on either side, about to make mention of them, when he spoke first.
“Yeah, those are empty right now. Renters will raid them in a few months, as they do every year during tourist season.”
“Well,” Chloe said as she thought of a cheeky reply. “I’m here now and would appreciate it if you would keep that in mind for the next few months.”
“I’ll certainly try my best. Anything else?” His grin was haughty, almost playful.
“Coffee. Can you tell me where I can find a good coffee shop? Seeing how I probably can’t fall back asleep now.”
The guy shrugged and said, “I hear great things about Destiny’s Brew.”
“Thanks.” She felt as though he was getting a kick out of her growing agitation.
Thevroom vroomsound returned as the chopper was fired up. Hot Motorcycle Guy looked directly at Chloe and yelled, “Nice shirt, by the way,” then winked before he took off in a zig-zag form down the street.
And it was then, Chloe realized she was still outfitted in an oversized white T-shirt that shouted in big, bold letters,Today’s Mood: Cranky With A Touch Of Psycho.
