Page 25 of Fire for Effect

But I hated water.

Otherwise, I would have been a SEAL.

“Just getting off,” he said, pulling away, and smiling down at me. His eyes roamed my body but not in a dirty way. He was attracted… hell, so was I. It was mutual. But it felt like the attraction I had for a celebrity. Distant, and admiring. But not lusty. “You going in for a bite?”

“I’m a terrible cook,” I admitted, putting my helmet into the backbox, closing it, and turning the lock in place.

“I’m a great cook,” Riley admitted, with no hint of arrogance. He wasn’t that kind of man. Straight forward. Honest. Like a golden retriever. “I have to be since I’m a single dad and all.”

“How’s Lizzie?” I asked after his kid.

I hadn’t met her yet. He wanted to wait until we were serious. That made me more determined to make this work. Good fathers were worth their weight in gold.

“She’s having a sleepover tonight.” Riley bit his lower lip, lifting his shoulders.

“Oh!” I said, in a small gasp, throwing my leg over so I could stop straddling Daisy. With both feet firmly planted on the ground, I faced him, looking into his eyes and trying to read what those words meant. Was he telling me that his kid wasn’t home so I could come over?

So we could… seal the deal?

Did I want that?

“Hey, no pressure,” he said, reading the room much faster than I did. “I’m not asking for anything, okay?”

He put his hands up, palms out towards me.

“I’m good with slow.” Slow would give feelings time to develop, right? Psychologists say that proximity breeds affection. So it should just be a matter of time.

It was something he had said repeatedly. He was happy taking it slow. He just wanted to get to know me. He was good with just healthy conversation before diving into anything serious.

He was upfront, clear, and honest. Great communication was every woman’s wet dream.

So why wasn’t I feeling a spark? Why was there no magnetism? Why? Why? Why?

And why did my mind automatically go to the man with smooth, black hair, and almond-shaped brown eyes that had a way of insisting. It didn't matter what it was. They commanded my attention, made me uneasy and nervous when I was with him. Half the time, I wanted to wring his neck! But when he was gone, I yearned for him.

“I’ve got to duck into the office to drop something off for one of my guys, but why don’t I meet you at the bar and join you for dinner?” He kicked at the rocks under his feet. “If you want me to. Again, no pressure here.”

Was the lack of pressure a sign he didn’t want me that much? That maybe this unease was mutual?

“I’d like that,” I said to the ground, feeling a blush crawl up my neck and into my cheeks. “And… I think having company for dinner might be safer.”

I glanced at the bikers, finally able to read the name on their cut: “Prodigal Sons”.

Was that biblical, or just a cool name they plucked from thin air?

“What’s going on?” Riley stepped a little between me and the bikers, his brows furrowed in concern. “One of those guys bothering you or something?”

His biceps flexed, his shoulders snapped back. I almost laughed. Not because there was anything funny about it, but the idea that someone could defend me more than I could defend myself was just… ludicrous.

But also very, very sweet.

“I may have detained one of their guys for dodging bail,” I winced.

Riley assessed them, then turned back to me. Then across the street again.

“You want to go somewhere else? We can go down to Middlebrook and get dinner there.” His hands were in his pockets. That was something I never did because the military had drilled it out of me. No hands in pockets. No hats indoors.

“I don’t really do that,” I said, with a shrug.

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