Page 25 of Cursed Wolf

But those were tomorrow’s problems. Four o’clock finally rolled around and I couldn’t get my apron off fast enough. It was only when I checked the mirror in the break room that my confidence faltered.

I had barely any makeup on, and my work clothes had some grease stains on them. My hair wasn’t having it. Honestly, the whole package wasn’t having it. How could I go on a date looking like this?

He asked you out while you look like this, my out-of-nowhere confidence reminded me.

Even so, Tryn was giving me another chance after he thought I blew him off. He deserved a bit more effort from me.

He waited by the bar, chatting with Joey while holding a paper to-go bag and a brown, long-necked bottle with a swing-top cap. His eyes lit up, a smile pulling at his lips as I approached. “Hey. You ready?”

I played with my fingers, suddenly nervous. “Do you mind if we swing by my apartment so I can change? Can’t say I was expecting to go on a date straight after work.”

Tryn’s eyes heated, his smile dropping. “You’re perfect as you are,” he practically growled. Then just as quickly, he added, “But yeah, of course. If you’d be more comfortable out of work clothes and,” he paused with a small bite to his lip, “you’re okay with me knowing where you live.”

I felt no sense of alarm at that idea, no warning in my gut. Instead, I felt like I wanted him to see where I lived. Not that I would be inviting him inside right away, but I had this urge to see him in my space, among my things. I wanted him touching my things so they would smell like him…

“I’m okay with that,” I said, shoving down those weird, overly-intimate thoughts. We had yet to go on one date for shit’s sake.

“Cool.” That stomach-flipping smile returned. “Shall we ride, then?”

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before,” I admitted as we left the restaurant. Even with his hands full, Tryn made sure to hold the door open for me.

“It’s easy,” he assured me. “You’ll get the hang of it by the time we get to your place.”

“How do you know I don’t live in a distant cave up in the mountains?” I said it as a joke but saw what looked like momentary panic on Tryn’s face before his features smoothed over.

“I’ve met a few cave trolls, and you don’t quite fit the vibe,” he joked back, securing the food and bottle in a compartment above his rear tire. “The engine gets loud, so you’ll just have to shout directions into my ear and point where to go.”

“I think I can handle that.”

Tryn got on his motorcycle and started it up. The roar that came out of it made me wince at first, but it quickly calmed to a steady rumble.

“I got you, Emmaline.” Tryn raised his voice to speak over the engine, but he sounded every bit as calm and gentle as when we sat next to each other at the bar. “You’re completely safe.” He held an arm out, which I used to steady myself as I climbed into the seat behind him. “I’ll go slow through town, but hold onto me if you need to.”

Forget need. How about if I want to? I smothered the thought as I settled on the bike, hyper aware of his closeness and our position. My legs were wide, inner thighs grazing the outsides of his. His back was like a wall in front of me, tall and broad in every direction. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I decided on a light touch on his ribs.

“Okay,” I said. “Head down this street and take a left at the stop sign.”

As Tryn backed out of the parking lot and turned toward the direction I gave, a tingling, vibrating sensation took over my legs and hands.

And it wasn’t just from the bike or the road.

Chapter 9

Emmaline

We pulled up to my apartment only five minutes later, and I was loath to peel away from Tryn’s warmth so soon.

“Grab a jacket, it’ll get cold,” he said when I hopped off the bike. “And don’t worry about doing anything with your hair. The wind will blow it out.”

I ran a hand through the mess on my head and let out a short laugh. “You mean it can get worse than this?”

“Quit that,” he growled sternly, even though he was smiling. “You look great. Just dress warm and comfortable.”

“Okay, be right back.” I resisted the urge to skip up my walkway while he waited on the idling motorcycle. I was still nervous, but damn did it feel good to hear a man like that say I looked great.

I was in and out of my place within ten minutes, settling on dark wash jeans, a V-neck top that flattered my shape, and a quick brush through my hair. And, of course, a jacket. I would have loved to refresh my light makeup, but I didn’t want to leave my biker man waiting too long.

“He’s not mine,” I reminded myself, stepping into my ankle boots right by the front door. “It’s just one date.”

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