Page 3 of Dodge

He turned and smiled as he picked up the phone receiver. “Call me Dodge.”

CHAPTER2

Dodge orderedfluffy blueberry Belgian waffles with syrup and fruit while I showered. The morning chef was a good cook, but my stomach was rebelling enough that I didn’t dare eat much. Even the rich coffee made me want to heave.

Fuck me, I’m never drinking again.

After we ate, I added another item to my list of most embarrassing moments. I didn’t have any other clothes but the ones I wore to work last night: my chef’s uniform. I’d left the matching flat black hat in the kitchen and probably wouldn’t get it back. My black chef’s pants and white custom coat stared at me from where they neatly lay across the chair along with my underwear and the sports bra I always wore underneath.

Dodge had to have been the one to lay my clothes out so orderly. I was meticulous about order in my kitchen, but for my house, not so much. Dusting and vacuuming weren’t high on my priority list, and clothes rarely made it from the laundry basket to the closet.

My nose wrinkled at the thought of putting on yesterday’s panties: one of my favorite pairs, dark blue lace with a little rose accent in front. Even so, I’d worn them all day. Yuck, but it was either that or go commando like Dodge apparently did.

Suck it up, Fauna. You did it to yourself, dumbass.

The second item of the morning adding to my embarrassment list came when Dodge led me outside through the front lobby to his vehicle. The walk of shame through the ornate hotel was bad enough in my uniform and the finger-combed rat’s nest on my head, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw what he drove. He didn’t have a car—he had a motorcycle. A fuckingmotorcycle!I’d never been on one and, for the twenty-five years of my life, had never wanted to be on one. Now I didn’t have a choice if I wanted a free ride home. Ubers were available, I suppose, but that cost money, and I didn’t remember where I left my wallet. I had my cell phone, at least. Too bad the battery was dead.

Dodge noticed my less-than-thrilled face when he mounted the huge machine. I had to admit, it was pretty. The custom paint job showed a starry dark blue sky fading into a blazing sun resembling a chariot pulled by four flaming dragons. An intricately detailed skeleton holding a fiery sword above his head drove the chariot. Someone had put a lot of time and thought into this work. Still, the thought of getting on that bike wasn’t on my bucket list of favorites.

“It’s all I have here, sweetness. My other rides are at the car show today. Best I can do unless you want me to call you a cab or something.”

He handed me a helmet that looked like it would swallow my head whole. The thing weighed a ton when he popped it on. His fingers traced over my throat, and he placed his hand around my larynx, finger on one side and thumb on the other. My pulse jumped at the gesture.Fuck me, am I about to become some serial killer’s next victim?Gentle pressure had me lifting my chin, and he tightened the strap underneath.

“You have someone you want to call to come get you, or do you feel safe enough with me to get on my bike? I’ll be glad to get you that rideshare if you want it.”

How did he know what was in my head?“I think I’m good. I’ve just never ridden a motorcycle before.”

His deep blue eyes bored into mine, and the intensity in their depths would not allow me to break away. I had the privilege of having a gorgeous green-gold for an eye color, and more than one man had asked if they were real or colored contacts. “I understand if you don’t trust me, Fauna, but if I was going to hurt you, I had plenty of opportunities to do that last night.”

He tapped a dragon symbol on the vest he wore. The same one sat on the back. “You see this patch? This means I’m a member of the Dragon Runners Motorcycle Club. We have a strong brotherhood tighter than any blood family and an unbreakable code of ethics. Any man who earns the right to wear this cut is one you can trust with your life.”

He said this with enough conviction and sincerity that I relaxed. No, I wasn’t about to become a media headline on the daily newsfeed. In reality, he was right in that he’d had plenty of time to hurt me when I was blackout wasted last night.

He strapped on a much smaller helmet and patted the tiny pad behind him for me to sit.

Shit, can I be more awkward trying to get on a bike for the first time in my life with what seems like twenty extra pounds on my head?

I somehow settled myself behind him and put my feet where he pointed. The next challenge was where to put my hands. I placed them on his shoulders, and he immediately pulled them down to wrap tightly around his waist. This pulled my crotch up against his butt, and I gasped from the contact.

I had no time to reposition and try to get a sliver of space between us before he fired up the engine and took off with a roar of pipes. A “Holy shit” erupted out of my mouth as I slid backward and clutched him hard. I could have sworn he laughed at me.

It was early summer, and the temperatures were rising. The day was turning out to be beautiful. A sunny, clear sky hung overhead. Green leafy trees decorated the blue with texture, and contrasting colors of pink, white, and red wildflowers that grew in the highway median flashed as we zoomed by. The man between my legs steered the rumbling behemoth under us with precision and care. I watched his hands move when he switched gears. When he leaned into a curve, I leaned with him, following his movements. I became super aware of his body, his hard stomach under my fingers, the flex of his muscles, and my breasts pressed firmly against his back. My pussy itched, probably from its recent shaving, and I had to fight the urge to grind it against his butt for relief. Dodge’s uncanny perception of me kicked in, and he placed a hand over mine for a hot minute as if to say“Hang on, sweetness, we’re almost there.”

His GPS led us right to the condo where Chase and I lived. My old Honda sat in my spot, and I didn’t see Chase’s brand-new Audi anywhere. I breathed a sigh of relief. Another confrontation was on the horizon, but I didn’t want to face it any sooner than necessary.

Guilt ate at me from my behavior last night, and my stomach rolled as reality set in. Chase had fired me and told me to get the hell out of his kitchen and his condo.

“Who the fuck do you think you are questioning me?” The metal spatula rang when he threw it against the far wall.

I didn’t flinch at the noise, but my next statement came from between gritted teeth. “I don’t have to question anything. The seafood is bad. Smell it.”

“It’s dated for tomorrow.”

“Well, someone got it wrong. You serve that, you’ll make people sick.”

“The only person wrong is you. I’m sick of your attitude. I’m the fuckin’ boss, and you need to learn to respect that.”

Liquid sloshed from the bowl as I slammed it down. “You want respect? How ’bout earning it? The refrigerator is filthy with spoiled food. You cook from frozen instead of fresh in a city that’s considered a foodie mecca. The kitchen hasn’t had a good cleaning in weeks, and the menu is too fuckin’ big to be any good. How the hell did you ever get to be a chef?”

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