The door opened slowly, and Wheels stepped inside.
Of course it was Wheels, because apparently my humiliation needed an audience.
He filled the doorway like he was made for it.Big shoulders.Thick arms.Black beanie pulled low over his head.Dark beard covering a jaw I had no business thinking about while I was hungover and mostly dead.His cut hung open over a black shirt, and tattoos climbed over his forearms and disappeared beneath the sleeves.
He looked rough.
Not messy.
Not careless.
Rough in that steady, dangerous way.Like he belonged on a motorcycle.Like he belonged standing between trouble and anyone dumb enough to bring it to his door.
He had the kind of face that could make a person cross the street if they didn’t know him.
But I did know him.A little.Enough to know he wasn’t rough with me.He got right to the point, sure.He asked questions like he expected answers.He told me when I was lying.He stood too close sometimes and watched everything.But he didn’t do it like an asshole.
He did it like a man who had decided I mattered.
His eyes moved to the nightstand, then to the empty spot where the pills had been.His mouth twitched.“You’d be easy to drug if I wanted to.”
I laid my head back down and groaned.“Being drugged would probably feel better than this.”
Wheels chuckled.
I kept my eyes closed.“My eyes are closed, but I know you’re looking smug as hell right now.Knock it off.”
The floor creaked as he stepped farther into the room.A second later, the foot of the bed dipped under his weight.
“We did all tell you girls to slow down last night.”
“As if Tempi and Britta were going to listen to you guys,” I muttered.“You already tell them what to do all the time.I think they were more than happy to play bartender and get my butt drunk.”
“They didn’t have to try hard.”
I cracked one eye open.“Are you blaming me?”
“Little bit.”
“Rude.”
“Honest.”
“Still rude.”
He laughed again, and this time I opened both eyes because apparently I hated myself.
There he was, sitting at the end of my bed like he belonged there.All rugged and handsome and entirely too awake.It wasn’t fair.
The man screamed biker.Thick beard, tattoos, black beanie, broad chest, and arms that looked like they could lift me like I weighed nothing.Which, apparently, he had done last night.
That thought did not help my hangover.Or my sanity.
“You carried me up here,” I said.
His mouth twitched again.“You remember that?”
“Barely.”
