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“Whatever. You’ve got to be pushing what—thirty-five?”
“Thirty-eight,” he admitted.
“Positively ancient.”
“Are you even legal, darlin’?”
“I’m twenty-five.”
“Baby.”
I hated his mocking tone. “It’s okay, Grandpa,” I taunted. “You couldn’t keep up with me.”
“You wanna bet?”
The carnal promise in his voice was so unexpected I couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down my spine. I stared out the window and pretended he didn’t affect me. That was the last thing I needed. Getting involved with one biker president while trying to run from another.
“I don’t like grumpy men,” I huffed.
“Maybe not. But you like me.”
“I do not.”
Colt’s gaze dipped down my body and lingered on my breasts. “Then your nipples are liars.”
“You’re crass. And an asshole.”
His smile was slow, heated. “Yeah. And youdefinitelylike it.”
We drove to Colt’s home in silence. After he’d commented on the state of my nipples, I was feeling a bit exposed. My wrist was in a cast and I had a cut along the apple of my cheek. I was feeling needy and he’d called me a burden.
I peered at Colt out of the corner of my eye, trying to discreetly study him. He was attractive, there was no denying it. Coffee colored dark hair, brown eyes, stubble for days. Not to mention his body. Tall and broad. Tatted. Muscled. He smelled like woodsmoke and something else …something entirely uniquely him. I’d tried not to pay attention to his scent, but the man had carried me several times and it was impossible not to notice.
Colt turned his head and caught me staring at him. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his aviators, but his grin said enough.
“Almost there,” he said.
“Good.”
He chuckled but fell silent again.
We were twenty minutes outside of Waco when he turned off the main road onto another path. After a few miles of windy gravel, we arrived at his place. It was a two-story white home that looked like it had been built in the forties. The lawn was well-kept, and the trim was newly painted. There was a swing on the wraparound screened-in porch. It was the perfect spot to curl up with a good book.
“You live here?” I asked in surprise.
“Yup.”
I glanced at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it seems…out of character.”
“And you think you know my character?”
“I think I have a pretty good grasp on it, yeah.”
He gave a slight smile. “I like space. Big guy like me can’t do an apartment. This house was falling apart when I bought it a few years ago. I wanted to fix something with my own two hands. Something that wasn’t a bike or a car.” He cut the engine. “I can sit on the porch, watch the sunset, listen to the cicadas.”
“I like that you restored it instead of tearing it down.”
Colt stared at me for a moment and then said, “Nowadays when things break people don’t fix them, they just throw them out.”
