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“Betty,” I corrected. The distance I’d put between Wilde and myself cleared my mind a little. “Once we’ve put her back together, I’ve got plenty of work to keep you busy.” I combed through my tangled hair with my fingers. “You know how to rebuild a starter?”
Wilde huffed. “Been working on bikes since I was twelve.” Was that amusement in his voice?
I took his non-answer as a yes. “Great. What about body work?”
“Fuck yeah!”
He hesitated long enough for me to look back at him and drink him in with my eyes.
He was engrossed in my work across the shop. “I’m no artist like you, but I can hold my own.” His eyes flicked over to mine and in that second, a shiver of desire ran through my veins.
“Good then,” I murmured quickly. “There’s a banged-up tank on the shelf over there. Get to work.” I skirted around another disassembled bike, keeping as far away from him as I could. The heat at the juncture of my thighs was rising quicker than the Arizona day, and my flimsy shorts would do little to soak up any evidence of how my body was betraying me at the moment.
Needlessly, I added, “I need coffee.”
What I didn’t give voice to was how small my shop suddenly felt or how he seemed to fill every square inch of the place. What I really needed was space.
14
Wilde
I was no better off than I had been that morning when I woke. I still didn’t have my phone and unless I could convince Bou or Celt otherwise, it looked like I’d be spending a bit of time here. I needed to get out and sort my problems, but now that I was effectively trapped, I found that I didn’t care as much as I probably should.
Bou might think she had me locked down, and she was right, just not in the way she thought. I wasn’t an idiot. It would be simple enough to figure out her phone password and call Angel. If anyone could get me out of this place without the AX3 finding out, it would be him. Of course, that would mean I’d have to explain my full involvement with them. I’d played it down because I didn’t want him to get needlessly involved, but he’d have my back.
No, contacting Angel wasn’t the problem and neither was the logistics of having me get out of here. A hired unmarked van that would fit Betty in the back and have enough room for the cast in the front and I could be out of here by daybreak tomorrow. The AX3 would be none the wiser.
But I felt a spark back there in the shop. I could leave, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Not yet. It had been a long time since I’d enjoyed female company. Sure, there’d been plenty of sweet butts hanging around Diablo, and I’d had my faves. Often multiples at once. I was hardly a motherfucking saint, but Bou was different. I’d caught her sneaking peeks at me when she thought I wasn’t looking, so I knew she felt something too, even if she wouldn’t admit to it. I was enjoying sparring with her. The back and forth. It was a game. One I wasn’t sure I’d win, but I was sure as hell enjoying playing.
If I was reading her wrongly, I’d call Angel in a few days and get down to Mexico without Betty. In the meantime, I was going to reheat some of Doc’s ol’ lady’s Italian food from last night and enjoy some homey comforts.
I found the leftover lasagna in the fridge, preheated the oven, then bent down to slide the tray inside. There wasn’t a fucking domestic bone in my body, but I knew lasagna tasted better from an oven than a microwave. As I shut the door and straightened up, a shot of pain radiated out through my leg. I bit my teeth together and hobbled over to the chair at the island. I hadn’t been honest with Bou.
Hell, I wasn’t being honest with myself either. Pain, I could take. I was a fucking biker. Pain was my middle name, but this was different. I was running about on my leg as though it was nothing more than a twinge, and not a broken bone. I took another half an oxy and my antibiotic pill and gave up the fight. Doc seemed to know his shit, so I’d listen. Rest up. Let it heal.
Bou stuck her head through the door and gave a great sniff then broke out into a wide smile. “Is that Kimmers’ lasagna I smell?”
I’d never had a home. Not in the real sense of the word, but just that small action had the word rattling around in my brain. Sure Angel was great company and the best friend a guy could ask for but he didn’t look half as hot in a skin-tight top and painted-on denim as Bou did right now.
“Shame to waste it,” I said. “Should be ready. I’ll get it out and dish it up.”
She gave me an odd stare that I couldn’t quite read, and I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. An invalid lounging in her kitchen and taking up her bed, a man who had added to her burdens, or just plain trouble? I wanted her to see me as I saw her. Someone that there was maybe something to explore something with. Something... The thought was vague in my mind. Not quite tangible. I wanted to see what she looked like under those tight clothes, for sure, but after that. What exactly did I want with her? I couldn’t stay here and she sure as hell couldn’t leave.
I wished I wasn’t on so many pills. Doc said they wouldn’t mess with my mind, but something was. I just knew that this something that I couldn’t define was becoming more insistent and maybe, just maybe it wasn’t fair. I was trouble. A shitload of trouble. What I wanted should be irrelevant. I was the one that had thrown a wrench into Bou’s life. The least I could do was leave her alone. If she did want me the way I thought she did, she’d make a move. If there was one thing I’d learned about her in the last couple of days, it was that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.
“Don’t you dare move.” She pointed at me and glared with more threat than I felt when Angel gave me his warning look.
How was that even possible? Angel had a shadow that clung to him, and he seemed to move through dark clouds as if they were a part of him. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was a ghost, or maybe a demon. There wasn’t anything shadowy about Bou, but there was this thing about her that really did put me on edge. A different edge, although a dull one at the moment. I tried to stand and stumbled backward into the chair.
“See,” she said and stopped to steady me. “If you don’t stop with your stubborn streak, your leg will never heal. You stay there.” She turned toward the stove and added, “I’ll serve up.”
My brain dropped into gear as she spoke. “Only if you let me give up the bed. My leg’s feeling better and that air mattress should be comfy enough.” Not quite true, but I’d slept on worse.
I waited for her to respond, hoping that she’d decline my offer. The real hope was that she’d want to sleep in the bed... with me still in it.
“You’ve got a deal!”
I was rewarded for my gallantry with, not only lasagna, but a salad and garlic bread.
