Page 79 of Jingle Belle's Biker

“It’s fucking cold, Red. Let’s get pizza and steal Sin’s whiskey. Talk. See where that takes us.”

Even though I don’t want a drink, I nod. “Deal.”

“Don’t mind me,” Sin says when we walk in, a knowing little smile on her face. “I’m going out. Jealous?”

The word hits me hard, as does the sight of the woman in front of me.

She’s sex with sharp nails, beauty with teeth.

I honestly don’t think I’ve seen someone look so good.

The leather outfit is tight and hot, and she flips her hair.

“Not fucking likely,” Saint mutters, pressing send on his phone. We discussed the pizza on the way from his bike to the door, and in the end, he ordered two. Something about no fucking mushrooms on his. “Have fun, and do not have sex in my bed. Or apartment.”

“I’d have thought that would be a little cramped. Unless your librarian’s into threesomes. Or foursomes.” Sin turns to me, but the light in her gaze is friendly. “And something says she isn’t. Are you?”

“No, she fucking isn’t, Sin.”

She winks at me. “Thought not.” She slides him a look over her shoulder as Nomad meows from his space biker capsule. “I’m betting you aren’t these days, either.”

“Fucking shut up, Sin.”

“Make me. Don’t wait up.”

“Yeah, right.” Then he pats his pockets. “Shit. I want to tip.”

He goes searching for change or his wallet, and I’m left with Sin.

“You know,” she says, “you just might be what he needs, much as I hate saying that.”

“D-do you still?—”

Sin laughs. “Want him? No, I just don’t like losing. You’re so not him, you just might be. But . . .” That laughter fades. “Be careful. Don’t let him break your heart. You have one, I don’t.”

“Everyone has a heart,” I say, wishing this conversation was over.

“Romantic heart. Saint won’t mean to. And he’s a stand-up guy, but he’s a loner, a nomad, and they break hearts. Smash them.”

I take a step to her. “Is that why you broke up?”

“No. It was time, that’s all. I do want a place to call mine, he doesn’t.” Then she squeezes my arm and calls out, “Don’t miss me too much, Saint.”

She walks out the door, and a few minutes later, her engine roars and takes off into the night.

Saint rubs a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think that might have been her way of giving a blessing?” I regret the words the moment they’re out of my mouth.

“That’s the kind of fucked up thing she’d do.”

Then he grabs the whiskey, the cat, and gestures to the door.

“It’s coming to your place. I figured just in case she comes back, she won’t disturb us.”

From somewhere, a big smile blooms warm in me. “You think you’re getting some?”

“No fucking idea about some, but I’ve got dessert in mind, the X-rated type.” He leans right in and steals a slow kiss. “And I’ve got a voracious appetite.”

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