Page 14 of Big Bossy Biker

If I let myself hope for more—if I let my heartbeat for him like it wants to—I’ll never recover.

I knew it when I saw him in the office yesterday, leaning against the counter with that casual, confident posture of his. I knew that if I opened myself up to him, if I let him get any closer, I’d be signing up for heartbreak. It was hard enough keeping my distance, shutting him down with that stupid excuse about a headache. But what else could I do? Smile at him? Flirt like nothing happened? Give him any reason to stick around longer?

No. I couldn’t. I have to protect myself.

Even if it hurts like hell.

I spend most of my shift today moping, trying to stay busy, but it’s pointless. My mind keeps drifting back to Noah. How his eyes locked on mine, how his voice deepened when he spoke to me. It all comes rushing back in waves, each one harder to push away than the last.

He doesn’t come by today. Not once. Part of me feels relieved, like maybe I did the right thing by cutting things off before they went any further. But another part—the louder part—aches at his absence.

If it weren’t for the fact that his name was still on the list at the front desk, I’d have thought he’d already hit the road. Maybe that would’ve been better. If he left without saying goodbye, maybe it would be easier to get over him. At least then I wouldn’t have to face him, wouldn’t have to pretend like my heart wasn’t breaking into a thousand pieces.

It’s pathetic, really. We barely know each other,, and here I am, acting like I’ve lost the love of my life. But that’s the thing about Noah. He makes you feel everything all at once. There’s no easing into it with him. It’s like being thrown headfirst into a storm, and now I’m standing in the wreckage, wondering what the hell I was thinking.

When my shift finally ends, Marianne, with her perpetually sour face, comes to take over. She gives me her usual gruff greeting, and I just nod, trying not to let her see how disappointed I am. I shouldn’t care that Noah didn’t come by. Ishouldn’t.But that doesn’t stop the sinking feeling in my chest as I gather my things and head out the door.

The evening air is cool, a gentle breeze lifting the loose strands of hair from my face as I step outside. My eyes immediately flick toward the parking lot, half-expecting—no, half-hoping—to see Noah. But I know better by now. He’sprobably already gone. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe I’ll finally be able to get over him if he’s not here, tempting me every time I look out the damn window.

But then, I see him.

He’s leaning against his motorcycle, arms crossed over his broad chest, the fading sunlight catching on the dark strands of his hair. My heart stutters in my chest, and for a second, I wonder if I’m imagining him. If maybe my desperation has conjured him up like some cruel joke.

But no. He’s real. He’s here.

And he’s waiting for me.

My steps falter as I approach, my stomach twisting into nervous knots. He looks so damn handsome standing there, like he’s walked right out of one of my fantasies. But this isn’t a dream. It’s real, and that only makes it worse. Because I know this has to be goodbye.

He’s leaving. Of course, he’s leaving.

I force myself to keep walking, even though every instinct is screaming at me to turn around and run the other way. I stop a few feet away from him, my voice catching in my throat.

“Hey,” I manage to say, though it comes out quieter than I intended.

Noah’s eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them—something deep and unreadable—that makes my pulse quicken. For a moment, he just stares at me, and I wonder if he’s as conflicted as I am. But then he pushes off the bike, taking a step closer.

“I’ve got something to say,” he says, his voice low and serious. “And it’s going to be hard, but I need you to let me get it all out before you say anything.”

My stomach sinks. This is it. This is the moment where he tells me it was all just a fling, that I’m just another stop on his journey, another face in the crowd. I nod, bracing myself for the heartache that’s about to hit.

“Okay,” I whisper, my hands trembling at my sides. “I’m listening.”

Noah takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself for what’s about to come next. And then he looks me straight in the eyes, and the intensity in his gaze nearly knocks me off my feet.

“You’ve been the only thing on my mind since I stepped foot in that dirty-ass motel,” he starts, his words hitting me like a freight train. “I know I don’t have a lot to offer. I’m a bounty hunter, Fiona. I travel from place to place, chasing after bad guys, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be the kind of man who wants to put down roots somewhere.”

He pauses, and my heart twists painfully in my chest.

“I’ll never be the guy who wants the house with the white picket fence, the settled life. I’ll never stop chasing adventure. But I know one thing for sure.” His eyes lock onto mine, and I can’t look away. “No adventure is worth it to me if you’re not there next to me.”

I blink, trying to process what he just said. It doesn’t make sense. He’s leaving, isn’t he? He’s not supposed to be saying these things. He’s not supposed to be offering me this. Offeringus.

Before I can even begin to wrap my head around it, he reaches behind him and pulls out something bulky and bright—something that catches the light as he holds it out toward me.

A hot pink motorcycle helmet.

I stare at it, completely dumbfounded. My heart’s racing, my mind’s spinning, and I don’t know what to say.

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