Page 8 of Virgin Skin

The roar of a motorcycle engine thunders down the street. My eyes fly open and worries about my room key and wallet vanish immediately. Piston and I agreed to meet at a burger place around the corner, but maybe he decided to come pick me up instead? A second later, the motorcycle in question comes into view, pulling into the motel parking lot. He rides straight towards me, pulling into the same spot as last night. Except, as soon as he cuts the engine, I can tell it isn’t Piston. He’s broader and bulkier. He swings his leg over his bike to dismount and pulls off his helmet. My breath catches and the flutters that filled my stomach when I thought itwasPiston coming to pick me up turn into a different kind of nerves.

“Hey,” I say weakly, then clear my throat and try again. “I wasn’t expecting you to come by.”

Hero grimaces, tucking his helmet under his arm and taking a step forward onto the sidewalk a few feet in front of me.

“Yeah, listen, I’m sorry about how I reacted earlier. You threw me for a loop, kid.” He chuckles. “It’s not your fault, butit was kind of a sucker punch to find out I have a nearly thirty-year-old son I never knew about.”

I nod in understanding.

“I don’t know why she never told you.” I wish I could offer him insight into the incomprehensible mind of Emily O’Malley, but even after twenty-eight years as her son, his guess is probably as good as mine.

“She must’ve had her reasons,” he says gruffly. “Do you think…” He glances away, then back at me. “Maybe we could go grab a bite to eat and talk?”

“Uh…” I drum my fingers against my thigh. “I already have dinner plans, actually.”

Maybe I should cancel them? I came all the way here to meet my dad and now he’s standing right in front of me, offering to get to know me. That should take priority over getting shot down face-to-face by the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I chew my lip and tap my fingers a little faster.

“I could—” I start to say at the same time Hero says, “That’s okay.”

We both stop talking and share an awkward smile.

“That’s okay,” he says again. “Why don’t you swing by the shop again tomorrow and we can go out for lunch.”

I let out a breath and nod.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Cool.” He shifts on his feet and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. It’s weirdly comforting to know I’m not the only one feeling awkward as fuck about this whole thing. “Do you want a ride to wherever you’re headed?”

My heart jolts.

“No, that’s okay,” I say in a hurry. I can’t imagine having my dad drop me off for my ‘convince Piston we should still fool around’ dinner would help my cause much.

“Oh, okay.” He drifts back towards his Harley, then offers me a twitch of a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow.”

He pulls his helmet back on, hops on his bike, and roars away as quickly as he appeared. I let out another long breath and sag against the door a second time.

Maybe I reallyshouldfocus on prioritizing the thing I came here for. I could go to dinner, let Piston let me down gently, and forget last night even happened. Hell, barely anything happened at all. It was nothing more than kissing… The best, hottest makeout session of my life, but still just kissing. This is exactly the kind of thing that always lands me in trouble—getting distracted by pretty, shiny new things every time I take a step towards a goal. I get a job and suddenly a new hobby is way more appealing to focus all my time on. I spend time making a plan for something and then completely abandon it on step one. I switched my college major four times before dropping out with plenty of debt but no degree to speak of.

Even as I stand here chewing my lip until the tang of blood hits my tongue, trying to convince myself that Piston is probably right, this is too messy and too distracting, I already know I don’t care.

Where’s the thrill in life without a little mess? The question is, can I convince Piston to see it the same way?

Chapter 4

PISTON

I lean against mybike with my hands stuffed into the pockets of my leather jacket, staring in the direction Milo should appear from at any minute. Every time I hear the sound of an engine, I jerk my head towards the road, my heart hammering with the fear that Hero or one of the guys will drive by at the exact moment Milo shows up.

I hate that there’s an undercurrent of thrill to the fear of getting caught. I shouldn’t even be meeting with him now that I know he’s Hero’s kid. I should have told him ‘no’ over text and left it at that.

But then I wouldn’t be able to find out how he’s doing after everything that happened today. What if he needs a shoulder to lean on tonight? It’s not like he knows anyone else around here. I’m looking out for him, which is exactly what Hero would want if he had all the facts.

I groan out loud at the mental gymnastics it’s taking to justify this dinner to myself.

It’s just a burger. No touching, no flirting, and definitely no kissing.

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