Crash (Brazen Bulls MC #1)(10)
Until he turned around and saw the fortress of a front door.
She was gone quite a while, long enough for Rad to wonder if she planned to come back out—and then to wonder how he’d get back to his bike, what with all the locks being double-keyed—when he heard the tags on the dog’s collar jingle and the tap of claws on the floor, and then Ollie trotted in from a doorway in the dining room, and Willa was on his heel, holding two green bottles of Rolling Rock beer, uncapped and frosty with cold.
She’d washed up and changed—that had been the holdup. Her face was clean, and her hair was brushed sleekly back. No longer in her riding leathers, she wore a pair of black knit shorts and a white beater. A red bra showed under the thin cotton knit.
The first thing he noticed: Goddamn, what a body. Her top half suited that miraculous ass just right. Great rack—not too big, but full and perfect. Slender shoulders, but not bony. Firm gut. Sleek limbs. Nice.
The second thing: she was really hurt. Her right arm was purple and blue, her right leg was even more bruised, and scraped up, and her right knee was at least twice the size of its left mate.
Definitely too hurt for f*cking. Rad felt equal portions of relief and disappointment.
“Bike landed on your leg. You really should get that checked out,” he said as she handed him a bottle. Ollie stood between them, wagging his tail. The fierce, wary guardian who’d greeted them had taken off his armor and shown himself to be a sweet family pet. Rad dug this dog.
Willa shook her head and took a sip from her bottle. “Just scuffed up a little. I’m okay. If anything was really injured, I wouldn’t be on my feet. I took some ibuprofen, and I’ve got some stronger stuff if I need it. Still got a few days off, so I’ll take it easy and be fine.”
He begged to differ, but it wasn’t his business. “You’re the medical professional.”
She smiled. “That I am. You want to sit?”
“Sure, thanks.” He followed her over to the living room and stood and waited as she sat sideways in a corner of the sofa and stuffed a throw pillow under her hurt knee. Then he took a seat at the other end. When they were settled, Ollie stretched out on the rug before the sofa and set his head on the cushion next to Willa’s leg.
“You got yourself a good dog there.”
She smiled and scratched a black ear. “Yeah. My buddy.”
From his seat, Rad had a clear view of the front door. He had to ask. “You got some kind of trouble?”
“Hmm?” As she fully processed his question, her tone changed. “What?”
He took a long swallow from his bottle before he spoke. “That is some heavy security you got on that door. You got a pitty trained to protect. Not much trouble in this neighborhood, so I’m guessin’ you brought it with you. You got a bad ex?”
That narrow-eyed stare burned his face. “I’m a woman who lives alone. Maybe I’m just cautious.”
And yet here he sat, a stranger to her. “Maybe. That it?”
A big clock was the centerpiece on the mantel. It ticked several seconds by in silence as Willa stared at him, sucking on her bottle and scratching the dog’s head.
“No,” she finally answered. “Bad ex.”
“He cause you trouble?”
“Not here. I don’t think he’s found me in Tulsa, and I’ve been here a while. Maybe he stopped looking.”
“Stalker?”
She sighed, finished her beer, set the empty on the coffee table, next to a short stack of art photography books, buried a belch behind her hand, and then returned her attention to him. “Can I ask why you care?”
“If you need help, I’m offerin’ it. Don’t much like men who hurt women.”
He could almost hear Dahlia’s snide snigger at that—but what had gone on between them was different. And he’d never hurt her physically, even when he’d badly wanted to. He’d been loud, yes. Destructive. Mean, even. She knew every button he had, and by the end she’d been pushing them all like a starved lab rat at a food slot.
He’d done some damage to his brothers in the ring in those days, burning off the violence, but he’d never mussed a strand on her scheming red head.
“So you’re, what, my knight in shining armor?”
Willa’s tone was sharp and sarcastic, and Rad took offense. “I do somethin’ to earn that sneer?”
She had the grace to blush. “No. Sorry. Just…I’m not sure why you’re here.”
More offense. “You invited me.”
“I know. I don’t know why.”
Okay. He was tired and sore and drained in body and mind after the night they’d had. He didn’t appreciate her putting him on the defensive when he’d done nothing but be decent to her, and he’d f*cking known better than to come into the home of a woman who made him hard. Warning bells finally started to sound, and he drained the rest of his beer and stood up.
“I don’t know why, either, darlin’. Thank you for the beer. I hope your leg feels better. Ollie, it was nice to meet ya, fella.” He ruffled the dog’s head and walked to the front door.
Which was deadbolted with double-keyed locks. Fuck. So much for controlling his exit.
He heard her working her way to her feet. She limped to a box on the sideboard in the dining room and got her keys, then limped back to the door. Rad stood, feeling like a dick, while she unlocked each lock and, last, released the security bar and the chain.