Page 5 of Bringing Home the Biker

“What time will you be here?” my mom’s voice snapped through the phone, sharp enough to make me turn my chair away from Axel’s office.

I lowered my voice and glanced over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. “I don’t know, Mom.”

“How can you not know what time you’re going to be here?” she demanded. “Ask your man and tell me. I can wait.”

I rolled my eyes and silently counted to three before responding. “I’m at work, Mother. I can’t be doing personal things on company time. I’ll let you know tomorrow what time we’ll be there.”

“Well, the sooner, the better. I need to know what time we’re going ice skating and doing savory and sweet s’mores. Though, maybe we’ll do charcuterie for dinner too.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. This was the perfect chance to come clean and tell her my imaginary boyfriend wouldn’t be joining us for Christmas because he didn’t exist. But no, instead, I heard myself say, “We’ll be there for dinner, but don’t plan on us skating.”

Us. Why was I still saying us?

“Can you at least tell me his name?” she asked, her tone now suspiciously sweet.

“It’s a surprise, Mom. I like having him to myself,” I said and cringed as the words left my mouth. I prayed to any deity listening that she’d find that romantic instead of realizing I was full of crap.

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “Just call me tonight to tell me what time you’ll be here, please.”

“Okay. Bye.” I ended the call and dropped my phone onto the desk, then let my shoulders sag. Chin to my chest, I mutteredunder my breath, “See, the thing is, Mom, I don’t actually have a boyfriend. I’ve just been lying to you for the past year to get you off my back about being in my thirties and single.”

“Star.”

My heart nearly stopped. I froze, held my breath, and prayed that wasn’t who I thought it was.Please let it be anyone but Axel. Please, please, please.

I swiveled my chair slowly, and there he was, standing right in front of my desk. “Oh, shit,” I whispered as my face heated instantly. “You didn’t, by chance, happen to be deaf for the last two minutes, did you?”

Axel shook his head, and his dark eyes sparkled with something that looked a lot like amusement. “No, honey.”

I blinked.

Honey?

He’d never called me that before. Not once in five years. Under any other circumstance, I might’ve latched onto that detail and overanalyzed it to death. But right now, the only thing I could focus on was the fact that he knew my deepest, dumbest secret.

“Uh, well,” I stammered, “maybe you could develop amnesia, then?”

He folded his arms over his chest in a move that only made him look more intimidating. His broad shoulders and towering frame seemed to shrink the space between us. I had never been blind to the fact that Axel was ridiculously good-looking. Blindness wasn’t the issue. Restraint was. Every day for five years, I’d had to shove down the part of me that noticed how his muscles filled out his shirts or how his jawline looked like it had been chiseled out of marble.

And now, as he stood there, arms crossed, watching me squirm under his gaze? He was the embodiment of every bad decision I’d ever stopped myself from making.

“Why don’t you roll that part back to me about telling your mom you have a boyfriend when you don’t?” His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the curiosity behind it.

I waved a hand dismissively and forced a laugh that sounded as fake as it felt. “Oh, that? That’s nothing. You know how moms can be.”

His brow arched. “No, I actually don’t.”

Oh, God.I instantly regretted my words. Axel didn’t have a mom—not one he knew, anyway. He’d grown up in the foster system, and while he rarely talked about it, I’d picked up enough to know he’d been on his own since he was eighteen. He didn’t have the kind of family who called to pester him about his love life or forced him into awkward holiday plans.

“I just... My mom’s been on my case about settling down,” I explained and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I got sick of it, so I told her I was dating someone, and I’ve just kept the charade up for the past year.” I bit my lip nervously. “And now, with it being Christmas, she wants to meet him.”

“She wants to meet your imaginary boyfriend?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

I nodded and cringed as I said, “Yes, that is correct.”

Axel let out a low hum, the kind that made me feel like he was piecing something together. “And your plan is...?”

“Well,” I said and felt increasingly ridiculous, “I just need to find a place that rents boyfriends. Then I’ll be set.”

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