“Okay?” I asked, because apparently I was enough of an asshole to want to hear her say it again.
Her eyes narrowed, and the look she gave me had heat moving through me all over again. “Don’t make it weird.”
I laughed before I couldn’t stop myself. “Too late.”
The corner of her mouth twitched like she wanted to smile but didn’t trust the impulse. The slight curve of her lips hit me straight in the chest and made me want to earn a real one, which was dangerous thinking for a man who’d known her less than an hour. But I’d never been the kind of man who needed years to know when something mattered.
Machines told you what they were if you knew how to listen. People did too.
Riley had walked into The Pit with a busted Mustang and trouble behind her, and my body, my instincts, and every possessive piece of me had lined up around one conclusion before my brain bothered pretending to argue.
She was mine.
Then she asked, “Where’s the nearest motel?”
Every bit of humor drained out of me, but I didn’t let it show in my expression because losing my shit would have tipped my hand too soon. I hated the idea before she finished asking.
Crossbend belonged to the Redline Kings MC,, but even in the surrounding towns, most people with sense knew better than to start trouble in our territory. That didn’t mean I wanted Riley alone in some roadside room with weak locks, bad lighting, and nobody between her and whatever the hell had made her look ready to run.
The Crest was the only motel in the area. While it wasn’t the worst place I’d ever seen, no way in hell it was safe enough for a woman my instincts had already put under my protection.
The practical side of my brain ran the numbers right behind the possessive side and came to the same conclusion. If she couldn’t afford repairs, then she couldn’t afford to burn through money on a room while waiting on parts.
She acted casual, but she’d gone too still when she asked, like she was trying to make the question sound less desperate than it was. I didn’t call her on it. Riley struck me as the type to dig her heels in if pushed too directly, and I wasn’t interested in giving her an excuse to bolt when I could keep her exactly where I wanted by letting her think she had choices for another few minutes.
“The Crest is about five miles east of town. Head out of the lot, take a right and that street will take you to the beach. Turn left and follow the main road until you see the faded blue sign with a wave.”
Her lips twitched again, quicker this time. “That sounds promising.”
“It has doors and beds. I wouldn’t call it promising.”
“Glowing endorsement,” she muttered, shifting the duffel higher on her shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She turned toward the open garage door, and I watched her go because I couldn’t seem to do anything else. The late-afternoon light hit her as she moved, catching in her hair as she walked with the tired stiffness of someone who’d spent too long behind the wheel. But there was still strength in her stride. Stubborn woman. And mine, even if she didn’t know it yet and would probably try to throw a wrench at my head when she figured it out.
She made it a few steps before she stopped so abruptly that the duffel bumped against her hip. Her shoulders tightened, andher head tipped slightly toward where her Mustang sat dead in my bay instead of waiting to take her anywhere.
I saw the realization move through her. The motel was several miles away, her car wasn’t running, and she had no way to get there unless she planned on walking along the shoulder in the Florida heat. For half a second, I considered letting that problem do the work for me, but the image of her stubborn, sexy ass actually walking down the road was enough to kill that idea fast.
“Riley,” I called.
She turned back, her expression already guarded, like she expected me to point out the problem and make her feel stupid for missing it. That pissed me off too.
I grabbed a set of keys from the hook near my office and tossed them across the shop. Her hand came up automatically, catching them without fumbling. The kind of reflexes that came from being around fast-moving parts.
She looked down at the keys, then back at me. “What are these?”
“One of the shop trucks.”
Her brows pulled together. “I’m not taking one of your trucks.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I don’t need?—”
“You need to get to the motel, your Mustang isn’t moving, and you’re coming back here tomorrow morning anyway,” I cut in, keeping my voice even because arguing with her was already doing things to my blood that had nothing to do with irritation. The spark in her eyes when she got annoyed made me want to crowd her against the side of her car and see if her breath hitched when I got close. “Bring it back when you show up.”
Riley stared at me long enough that I could practically hear the fight in her head. She wanted to argue because takingthe truck meant accepting help. To refuse because the woman clearly hated needing anything from anyone. But she was also smart, which won out over stubborn after a few seconds.
