Page 26 of Fire for Effect

“What? Eat in Middlebrook?” Riley arched a perfect brow, and I briefly wondered if he plucked them, because he was just too good looking for a town like this. He belonged in LA, modeling in his underwear.

“I mean, I don’t change plans just because someone might be giving me a hard time,” I chuckled. The phrase just because I’m laughing doesn’t mean I’m joking, rang out in my head. Where was he now? “I don’t back down.”

Riley’s smile was blindingly white, and genuine. “I like that about you.”

He was so unashamed of how he felt. This was a man who had no secrets, and he liked it that way. That’s why he was a good father. I was sure of it.

“Wait a minute, and I can walk you in,” he said, turning back to the building, probably to close out.

“No,” I said, unzipping my leather jacket, letting the cool autumn air hit my bare chest, over my long sleeved, v-neck shirt. “I’ll meet you inside. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” His eyes momentarily flicked down to my chest, before he forced them back up.

His heated gaze gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. Maybe this would work out after all.

“I’m a big, tough girl. I can load my own magazines and everything.” I gave him a wink that I hoped didn’t look like I was having a stroke. It must have worked because he beamed at me. A golden retriever, through and through.

There weren't a lot of men who could handle that I was Special Forces. Not unless they were in it themselves. But maybe there was something different about Firefighters. At least that’s what the calendars suggested.

“Okay.” He leaned down and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Call if you run into trouble. I’ll be in there as fast as I can sprint, okay?”

He walked away, thank God. I was done with the awkward standing and blushing thing I was doing.

I wanted to be okay with him.

If I wanted to not die alone, then… this was what I had to do, right? Date. Try to build something with someone who made me feel safe. Try to plant down some roots, build a community and be a part of something.

I trotted across the street, trying not to make eye contact, even as heads turned my way. They were like cows watching a slow-moving car puttering down the road. But maybe if I didn’t look at them, then…

“Hey! Girly!” The gruff voice made my hair stand on end.

I stumbled but kept on walking. Just a few more steps and I’d be out of their sight and inside the bar.

“Nice Ducati. Is that an upgraded exhaust?” The voice called again.

That time I stopped.

“Yes,” I said, still not looking in their direction, my hand ready to push the door open to go inside.

“998 cc power, then,” the voice continued. This time I did look. “Unrestricted?”

“That’s not legal in the state of New York,” I said. Getting rid of the artificial limiter that regulated the top speed of my bike was most definitely something I would do. It was something I had done. But I’d never admit that to a stranger.

That was between me, my maker, and my mechanic.

I finally assessed the biker before me. He had a long-sleeved black shirt, the leather cut over it, his eyes a deep brown. His long salt and pepper hair curled around his ears. His beard emphasized a sharp jawline. His tan skin was leathered, probably from riding as much as he did.

It didn’t take long to recognize him. The guy who been at the head of the MC and made them turn away. Why hadn’t he come after me and rescued his friend?

He snorted. “So it’s unrestricted then. You clocked it over 200 yet?”

Was he trying to get me to admit to breaking the law? Was that his game?

Fuck him.

“I don’t speed.”

Chapter 7

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