Hooked (Viking Bastards MC #1)(8)

“Sure.” My mind fills with the happy vision of Grace in my shower. I pull open the door, keen to get home and put that particular fantasy into action.

Tension vibrates from her as we walk back into the bar. I swagger across the room, ignoring the glances from my brothers and friends, and they soon get the message. Instead of catcalls and jeers, they go back to their business, and Grace gives a relieved sigh as the door swings shut behind us.

“At least it’s stopped raining.” She lowers her umbrella. “That’s my car, over there.”

I glance across the street and there’s no mistaking which car she’s talking about. It’s a silver Mercedes coupe, and if I don’t warn my brothers the car’s off-limits, it’ll be picked clean by morning.

She opens the trunk and takes out an overnight case, then looks at me expectantly, as though she’s waiting for me to haul out the massive case that takes up the entire space. Is she leaving home or going on vacation?

It’s none of my business, and I don’t know why the question even enters my head.

“You need all this shit for one night?”

“No, but I need a change of clothes.” She frowns as though something’s just occurred to her. “Oh, you mean we’re walking to your house? I thought you’d have your car here. It doesn’t matter, I can make do.”

She goes to shut the trunk, and I hold it open. “I don’t have a car.” Seriously, is she really that clueless? Her surprised glance tells me that yeah, she really is. I haul her case out and slam the trunk.

“There’s really no need.” She waves a finger at her case. “I don’t expect you to carry it along the street. It’s too heavy.”

“The hell it is.” Even if the damn thing were full of bricks I wouldn’t back down now. “You better have some killer underwear in here as payback.”

She laughs and links her arm through mine. I’ve never walked down a street with a chick hanging on my arm like this. It’s oddly civilized and no one’s ever accused me of being that before. Thing is, I kind of like it.

Good thing she didn’t try this back in the bar. My brothers would never let me forget it.

“I don’t have anything kinky, if that’s what you mean.” She gives me a sideways look. “Just regular panties and bras.”

If they’re anything like the stuff she’s wearing now, that’ll do me.

“So where were you going? Leaving the country?”

“Just going to my sister’s.” She shrugs then sighs. “Well, if you must know I just broke off my engagement. My parents aren’t thrilled about it. I’m kind of reassessing my future options now.”

I didn’t expect a life history, and parents isn’t a word I want to hear when I’m with a girl. But I can overlook that tonight because I’m more interested in the fact she’s just dumped her fiancé.

Why do I care?

I have no idea. Makes no difference. I still like it.

“Yeah, well, I know exactly what your immediate future options include.” I leer down at her and she smiles back. Lucky for me she walked into Odin’s tonight, ready for a rebound f*ck. “You’re not gonna get much sleep tonight, you know that.” It’s not a question.

She squeezes my arm, pressing her body against me, and while I’m not usually into this kind of touchy-feely shit, it’s good. “I’m counting on it.”

…

Grace

Zach strolls across a small forecourt situated on the corner of the block. It looks like a motorcycle repair shop, although the windows are blacked out so I can’t see inside. So that’s why he gave me that strange look when I asked about his car. I thought maybe he’d been banned for DUI or something, because who doesn’t drive?

Seems he’s more into bikes. I’d love to ride pillion with him. It’s just one more thing I’ve never done because it’s too dangerous, Grace.

He takes me down the side of the shop and around the back, where there’s a small overgrown yard and a security light over a door into the building. We go inside and there’s a short hallway and a staircase to the second floor, above the shop. He flicks on the light, waves me forward, and follows, his hand cupping my ass. I grip the stair rail for added balance. His touch really mangles my senses.

At the top of the stairs there’s a living room to my left, and a kitchen to the right. Everything looks about thirty years old, from the worn sofa and scratched coffee table to the battered units in the kitchen. It’s tidy, though, except for some magazines scattered across the floor of the living room. As Zach squeezes past me and dumps my case in a room farther along the hallway, I suddenly realize they’re glossy women’s magazines.

Oh my God. I’d just assumed he was single. My heart knocks against my ribs in sudden panic, and I turn to face him. Has he brought me back here for a threesome with his significant other? Or is she away and he just wants some extra-curricular fun?

“Want to freshen up?” He loops his arms around me and even though I doubt his motives, his smile still manages to turn my insides to liquid. Damn him. Why didn’t I ask him before I agreed to come back here? Just because I’m up for a one-night stand full of mind blowing sex doesn’t mean I want to be the other woman.

I grip my overnight case and hold it between us. It’s a pathetic barrier but will have to do.