A look of confusion creases his face. “In my office. During lunch. At home.”
“Mmhmm.” I can picture it now, him lounging behind his desk, book open in his lap, concentration on his stony face, forearms flexing as he flips a page. “Where do you read at home? In your bed?” My voice went super breathy on that last question, and Roderick’s nostrils flare.
“Juliet,” he rumbles, “what are you thinking?”
“Nothing.” I neatly stack his books on the counter. “Just picturing what you look like … reading.” Goose bumps prickle over my arms at the fantasy, and my eyes may go slightly foggy.
The werewolf is quiet for a moment, and I busy myself grabbing my purse, stepping out from behind the desk when the next librarian arrives to take over. Latifa is a nice woman, approaching her sixties, and she likes to gossip as much as most of our patrons. Her eyes flick between me and Roderick, an excited gleam in her stare.
Before she can start with the probing questions, I grab the wolf’s arm and tow him out the front doors.
The sun is on its way below the horizon, and there’s a coolness to the November day.
“Will you go for a ride with me?” the wolf asks as he tilts his head toward a shiny motorcycle.
“I’m not sure I’m dressed for that.”
I didn’t wear a coat today. Despite the chill in the air, I figured my thick cardigan was warm enough for the short walk from my house to my car and the parking lot to the library. WhenI dressed for the day, I didn’t expect to climb on the back of a motorcycle.
At least I’m wearing jeans and not a skirt.
“Here.”
Roderick shrugs out of his leather jacket, the one proclaiming him as a member of The Dark Moon Riders, and drapes the massive thing over my shoulders. Immediately, I’m engulfed, and I live in a happy cocoon of warmth.
“Isn’t it against biker rules for me to be wearing this if I’m not a part of the club?”
Cory never let me wear his leathers. Not that I was begging to or anything, but he made a point to tell me that it wouldn’t happen.
Roderick only shrugs. “You’re with me,” he says, as if that’s the golden ticket.
Whatever keeps me from freezing.
When we reach his bike, Roderick opens one of the saddlebags and removes a helmet, which he sets on top of my head, and a pair of leather gloves, which he grips in his teeth as he accepts the stack of books I’m still carrying and slides them into the satchel.
“Wear these too.” Roderick hands me the gloves after I slip my arms into the sleeves of his jacket.
I’m all decked out and suddenly a lot more excited for this ride.
There’s a certain thrill to speeding down a road with nothing in between me and the asphalt. Like skydiving. I know it’s not exactly responsible, but it’s exhilarating.
The werewolf swings his leg over the machine, and he waits until I settle behind him to coax the engine to life. As the vibration starts, I move closer until the center of me is pressed directly against his lower back. Maybe the move is a bit wanton, but when Roderick grips my arms and tugs, guiding me totighten my hold, I grin against the warm cotton T-shirt stretched over his back.
I’m off the clock and ready for this evening to begin.
33
JULIET
The bikesmoothly accelerates out of the parking lot, and before long, we’ve reached the edge of town. Pavement disappears under his tires, and the trees along the side of the road bleed together.
I lose my breath and love every second of it. Even though I can’t see his face, I get the sense Roderick is enjoying himself too. Maybe it’s a sixth sense, or maybe it’s the way his ab muscles tighten when I hug him harder.
Whatever the reason, his happiness amplifies mine.
After a time passes, the number of minutes lost on me, Roderick makes a U-turn, and we eventually cross back into town, finally coming to a stop in an alley just off Main Street. Roderick offers his hand to help with my balance as I dismount.
Not used to sitting astride for so long, I wobble, then shake out a few twinges in my leg muscles.
