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“I mean, it’s no hazelnut bullet,” I say with feigned modesty. “But I did have to get a tetanus shot, so…clearly that makes me tougher than you.”
“A tetanus shot? Fuck, that’s sexy.”
“Isn’t it?”
Jack pulls his first pancake off the griddle, then stirs the batter still in the bowl. As he pours out another one, some batter manages to splatter his chest.
“You gonna eat the pancakes or wear them?” I say with a taunting grin.
I grab the dishrag beside the sink to wipe it off. I’m already engaged in the act by the time the message reaches my brain that wiping batter off Jack’s bare chest has a vaguely sexual connotation, but I don’t know how to escape it now as time slows while he watches me.
In the silence, I feel my pulse race in response to some intangiblesignal. I’m not sure which one of us is breathing hard. I think it’s me. A vivid hallucination of running my hands over his warm flesh flashes in front of my eyes. His muscles quiver under my touch. Either I’m kidding myself, or he feels thisthingtoo.
“Morning, you two,” Lee announces as he and Jamie enter the kitchen.
Jolted from the moment, I drop the rag and step away from Jack. I’m hyperaware of my heartbeat.
“Watch out for that one,” Jack says to the boys, turning back to his pancakes. “She’s no respect for the house rules. Just groped me right out in the open.”
“That so?” Lee arches an eyebrow at me.
“I knew she was trouble,” Jamie says. “The redheads always are.” They have a good laugh at my expense while I go sit with my cereal, hoping my face doesn’t look as red as it feels.
Thankfully, the door buzzes.
Jamie perks up. “We expecting someone?”
Nope, but I am.
“Later, boys.” I drop my bowl in the sink with an eye right at Jack. “I’m heading to Rye with Nate for some research.”
Jack’s gaze narrows, but I’m already strolling out of the kitchen.
“Did she say Nate?” I hear Jamie demand.
I grab my bag from the hallway and slip on my shoes before heading out the door.
Outside, Nate is waiting at the curb. With his motorcycle.
Oh.
I pause on the sidewalk. It isn’t fair, really. The sight of him leaning against the bike. Like, stop, dude. You were already hot. This is just overkill. A girl can only take so much.
“Morning,” he says in that deep voice of his. It’s not quite a smoker’s voice—I’ve yet to see him smoke anything—but there’s a slight rasp to it that makes certain parts of me tingle.
“Morning,” I answer awkwardly.
He hands me a helmet. “Ready?”
Hesitant, I stare at the bike. “My dad would kill me if he knew I was on a motorcycle.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s hated the things ever since a bandmate of his died in a crash a few years ago. Made me promise never to ride one.”
Which is maybe a lot to announce first thing in the morning to a guy doing me a favor.
“I’d never put you in danger,” Nate says softly. “I’m a safe driver. Never even gotten a speed ticket.” His earnestness sets me back. “Trust me?”
