Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(27)

Why had I let him kiss me? Why had I kissed him back? Exercise, that’s why. I was blaming all of this on exercise.

I’d worked my ass off at the gym on Friday, running three miles on the treadmill followed by twenty minutes on the stair climber, then ten burpees. I’d pushed myself hard, trying to get my head on straight. Trying to get my mind off Dash and burn off some sexual frustration.

My workout had been so intense, I’d felt like a puddle as I’d driven home. Normally, puddle was a good state of being. Puddle meant a long, hot shower and a sound, dreamless sleep.

Fucking puddle. Exercise was no longer a sanctioned activity, not until I had my head screwed on straight where Dash was concerned. Not when he showed up and caught me unprepared.

Forcing my fingers back to the wheel, I pulled into the parking lot at the paper. I had a busy week ahead and starting off Monday without focus was not an option. Yesterday’s Sunday edition of the Tribune had gone out the door without a hitch, and it was time to focus on my articles for Wednesday.

I didn’t have time to worry about Dash Slater. I didn’t have time to think about how his tongue had tasted like cinnamon and beer. Or how close I’d been to dragging him inside my house to the bedroom on Friday.

My core quivered. Hell.

“Good morning, Art,” I said as I came into the building, hoping my smile didn’t seem as forced as it felt.

“Morning.” He smiled. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” I lied. “It’s going to be a great day. I can feel it.”

He chuckled. “You and your feelings.”

Feelings. I wish I could make sense of them where a hot biker was concerned. Why did he kiss me? Why? I didn’t have time for this kind of distraction.

I left Art hard at work adding yesterday’s paper to our electronic archive system and went to my desk. Plopping down in the chair, I stowed my purse and glanced around the empty room, taking a deep inhale.

The newspaper smell wasn’t bringing me much comfort today. Dash’s smell was too fresh in my mind, wind and cologne and a hint of oil.

The bastard was even stealing smells from me.

Well, I wasn’t going to let him take my focus from this story. Draven was going down for murder and I’d be there every step of the way. Once he was serving life in prison, I was going to find out why the Tin Gypsies had broken apart their club.

Yesterday, I’d written another feature on the murder. Timing had been on my side and the police had released some new information to the media, including a few details from Amina’s autopsy. I’d printed her name along with cause of death.

I hadn’t included the sexual evidence. True to my word with Mike, I’d keep that to myself until the chief deemed it newsworthy. Eventually, Draven and Amina’s sexual escapade would come to light. For now, I was content having that knowledge to use as I did my own investigating.

A clang from the pressroom caught my attention and I stood, pushing through the door. Dad was at the back by the Goss.

I’d gone for a pair of Birkenstocks today with my black skinny jeans and T-shirt, wanting to feel comfortable on the outside while my insides were all twisted in a knot, so my footsteps were nearly silent as I crossed the pressroom.

“Hey, Dad.”

He jumped, spinning around. “Hey, yourself. You startled me.”

“Sorry.” I smiled, but it fell when my eyes landed on a pair of legs hanging out from beneath the printer. “Is that BK?”

To my knowledge, BK didn’t wear black motorcycle boots. BK’s thighs weren’t firm and the jeans he wore didn’t mold around them perfectly. BK didn’t have narrow hips or a flat stomach.

My heart dropped. I knew that black belt. I’d had vivid fantasies of unbuckling it all weekend.

Before I could turn tail and sprint for the door, Dash slid out from beneath the machine. He had a wrench in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. His fingers were smudged with grease.

“Got it,” he told Dad, barely sparing me a glance.

“Really?” Dad asked.

“Really.” Dash stood, still refusing to look at me. “I think you should be good now. There’s a gear that probably needs to be replaced soon. I’ll see if I can get a part and come swap it. But I managed to get the one in there working for now so it won’t skip rotations.”

“That’s great.” Dad clapped Dash on the shoulder. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I was going to have to get a repairman from the press company, and bringing one out here can get expensive.”

“No problem.” Dash took a rag from on top of one of the towers, cleaning his hands. His eyes stayed fixed on Dad like I didn’t exist.

I hated how my heart sank. Refusing to let him win, I put on my best aloof face and turned up my nose a bit. He wasn’t going to ignore me. I was going to ignore him.

Hello, high school.

“How much do I owe you?” Dad asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, I can’t let you do all this for free.”

Dash chuckled, that devilish smile going straight to my center. Damn him. “Tell you what, buy me a beer the next time we run into each other around town.”

“All right.” Dad extended his hand again. “I’ll do that.”

Dash tossed his rag aside and shook Dad’s hand. Then, finally, he looked my way. “Bryce.”