He chuckles. “I do more than jack cars, Stevie, I repair and kit them up now.”
“For the club?” My gaze drops to the leather cut he is wearing.
I see the patch that says ‘Crash’ and a giggle slips free. Covering my mouth, his eyes darken as he watches me giggle across from him, and my body warms, seeing the heated look he is giving me.
Why is he looking at me like that?
“Fuck, I forgot what a nice laugh you had,” slips free from him, and my giggles stop.
Licking my lips, I clutch my cold drink in my hands, bringing it to my lips in dire need to be cooled down. Did he like my laugh when we were in high school? What else about me did he like back then, and will he like it now?
Damn, I am getting ahead of myself.
“What had you giggling?”
Swallowing hard, I clear my throat, before reaching across the table, my finger brushing along his name. “Crash. Seems fitting for you.”
Licking his lips, he looks down at where I am touching his patch, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. I wonder what that lip feels like to bite into .
Looking up, he gives me a devastatingly handsome smile.
“Target’s Ol’ Lady, Madalyn, gave it to me.”
I blink, coming out of my thoughts when he speaks.
“Why that name?” I quiz and he shakes his head.
“Club business, babe.”
“Right,” I huff.
Have I ever said that I freaking hate secrets? I hate not knowing something, it drives me crazy. Some people say I am just being nosy when I need to know things; my aunt says that it is a control issue. I think it is just because I like to know things.
Logan sits his drink down, regarding me from across the table and I can feel my cheeks heating up from his intense stare. I can’t seem to look away from his beautiful blue eyes, they are captivating.
Back in high school, I used to love watching them brighten whenever he spoke about cars and bikes. Even though they are still a stunning blue, I see some hardness to him now.
Clearly whatever happened between him, Valarie, and Vinnie hurt him, making him harder.
“So, Stevie Merrick, tell me about you. A man or kids in your life? What do you do for work?”
“I work in a hotel; I’m a receptionist. And I love it, the people there are like a whole other family to me. No man and no kids. What about you?”
“No man, because I do not swing that way, but my brother does.” He winks. “No kids, not that I know of, anyway. I help run the garage at the club. I can fix any car or bike, which you already know, but we moved into custom work, which I fucking love.”
“No more racing?”
Something flickers across his face, and his jaw tightens at my question.
“No.”
I clear my throat, taking the hint that he doesn’t want to talk about racing anymore. It is what he used to live for, that and opening a garage, but I guess he now has that part of his dream sorted.
“So, you are a hot single biker now. How did you join the Rugged Skulls MC?”
There is that smirk again, damn, it could melt the panties off any woman.
“You think I am hot, huh?”
