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XENIA
Hobo lingers at myhouse long after his stomach demands food. I offer more than once to feed him. He just shakes his head and holds me against his hard, hungry body. As much as I adore his affection, I don’t want him to suffer by spending time with me.
That’s why, despite hating for Hobo to leave, I pretend I need to go inside. I know he won’t follow me. Every time he looks at the house, Hobo goes rigid.
“I don’t know your life,” I explain as I smooth out his fists when he considers entering the cramped space. “I keep thinking to ask questions. Then, when we’re together, I get sidetracked by my shallow tendencies.”
Hobo steps back, irritated with me before erasing the space between us. “Why did you pick this place? Is this what you like?”
“It was the wide-open view,” I say and gesture toward the now dark field. “Back to my thing, I know you are busy doing whatever you do, but when can we have our picnic?”
“I don’t know,” Hobo says, sliding his large hand around the back of my neck as if to keep me still.
“Are you scared of the dark?”
Hobo blinks rapidly, snapping out of his angry stance. “Of course not.”
“Are you scared of me?”
Though his expression is difficult to read in the dark, I think he’s amused. “A little, yeah.”
“I want to see you tomorrow, but I’m afraid to ask. So, let’s pretend I didn’t ask, and skip to when you tell me the answer.”
Hobo ignores my words and mutters, “I don’t want to leave now.”
“But you won’t come inside.”
Hobo looks at the house and frowns like it’s simply a bridge too far. “No.”
“I can close for the afternoon tomorrow. We could go for our picnic and spend the afternoon without Velma or anyone bothering us.”
Hobo’s rigid stance softens as he pictures what I’m proposing. He still doesn’t budge, remaining stuck in his spot even as I open the front door and flip on the porch light so I can see him.
I peel his hand from my neck and rest it against my cheek. Staring at him, I smile at his handsome, frowning face. He’s gorgeous in a way no man’s ever been for me before. I know Francis is handsome, and those other bikers are good-looking. Compared to Hobo, they’re all lacking.
Falling for this sexy biker makes sense. I’m not being crazy. Even if I am, so what? Hobo’s presence makes me happy. Even when he’s only in my thoughts, I feel lighter.
However, my feelings for Hobo don’t make him any easier to understand. I have no idea where he’ll go when he leaves me. What did he do all day? I don’t know why I never think to ask those questions. I probably should have used my lips for something besides kissing.
“Do you want me to go with you?” I ask when Hobo won’t budge one way or the other.
My question snaps Hobo out of his funk. “No.”
“Why?”
“You’d need to walk in the dark through the meadow and woods to my hog.”
“Or we could take my car wherever you want to go.”
