Page 4 of Bringing Home the Biker

The thought made my stomach twist. What if I actually picked someone dangerous? My entire family could be wiped off the map, and it’d be my fault for bringing the human equivalent of a horror movie villain to dinner.

“Ugh, stop,” I said and tossed my phone onto the floor. It landed with a soft thud, and I reached for my wine glass. I drained it in a single gulp.

This was ridiculous. I couldn’t ask some random guy from a dating app to pretend to be my boyfriend. What if he said yes just to mess with me? Or worse, what if he got attached and didn’t want to leave? The possibilities were endless, and all of them sounded terrible.

But what choice did I have? There was no one else I could ask. All my friends, not that there were many, were either married, engaged, or not interested in helping me out of my self-inflicted holiday mess.

I grabbed the bottle of wine off the coffee table, refilled my glass, and leaned back onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Four days. I had four days to find a boyfriend, and at this rate, the only thing I’d be spending Christmas with was the bottom of this wine bottle.

I raised my glass to no one in particular. “Cheers to that.”

Chapter Four

Axel

Friday morning.

I leaned against the front of my desk, arms folded over my chest, and glanced at the clock for the third time. Star wasn’t late often—she wasn’t lateever. It was only five minutes past the start of the day, but for Star, that was unusual enough to catch my attention.

I turned toward the glass front door and watched the empty parking lot. The early morning sunlight reflected off the dewy grass, and I just waited.

Then her car whipped into the lot, the tires crunching over the gravel as it veered to a stop. I straightened as Star jumped out and juggled her bag and keys as she sprinted toward the door. Her dark brown hair, usually smooth and carefully styled, was tousled, stray strands sticking to her flushed cheeks. She yanked the door open and practically skidded to a halt when she saw me standing there.

“I am so sorry,” she gasped as her words tumbled over each other. “I forgot to set my alarm, and I literally woke up ten minutes ago.”

She was a mess in the way only Star could be—a disheveled, unexpectedly beautiful kind of mess. Her straight-leg jeans were wrinkled, and the hem of her dark green sweater was uneven, where she’d clearly yanked it on in a rush. Brown boots that had caught the bottom of her jeans. Her cheeks were pink, either from the brisk morning or embarrassment—or both—and her wide, dark eyes flicked to mine like she was bracing for a lecture.

I didn’t say anything right away, which only made her shift nervously. Her sweater pulled tighter across her curves as she adjusted the strap of her bag. Star had been beautiful the second I met her five years ago, though I’d made it a point not to dwellon that fact. She was my assistant. More than that, she was great at her job and made the office run smoothly. Thinking about her in any other way would’ve been dangerous—for both of us.

“Everything okay?” I asked finally as I tried to keep my tone even.

Star let out a breath and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Just trying to figure... things out,” she said, waving a hand vaguely. “I just had a little too much wine last night and fell asleep before I remembered to set my alarm.”

“What things are you trying to figure out?” I pressed, curious despite myself.

She waved me off and avoided my eyes. “Oh, nothing. It’s just... things.”

“Things I could help with?” I offered.

Star cringed, a quick twist of her lips that she tried to cover up with a shake of her head. “Uh, probably not. Just... things.”

Yeah, okay. I got the message loud and clear.Things. Whatever was going on, she didn’t want me—or anyone, apparently—involved.

“Well,” I said slowly, “if you need help with those things, let me know. I’ll be in my office till midday.”

She nodded quickly, and her cheeks flushed a shade darker. “Sounds great. I’ll get the coffee going and check any messages.”

I watched her shuffle off toward the kitchen, then turned and headed into my office. My chair creaked softly as I sat, but instead of diving into the stack of paperwork waiting for me, I leaned back and stared out into the reception area.

Through the doorway, I could see Star settle into her desk. With a sigh, she dropped her bag and began rifling through the drawers. A moment later, the faint sound of the coffee maker sputtering to life reached my ears.

Something was definitely going on with her. She hadn’t just overslept; this wasn’t a normal morning-after-wine type ofthing. She was jittery, distracted, and... I didn’t like it. Star was solid, steady, and sharp as a tack. Whatever thisthingwas, it had her shaken.

And I was determined to figure out what it was.

Chapter Five

Star

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