Page 1 of Kilo's Edge

CHAPTER 1

Camila

“Head’s up!”

I ducked, wondering what was about to hit me, then cringed with embarrassment at my action as the football landed in our yard at my feet. My eyes darted over and I groaned as my gorgeous neighbor came jogging over.

“Sorry about that,” he called as he slowed to a walk. “Freddy’s got a cannon for an arm, but his aim needs some work.”

The man flashed me a devastating grin and it wasn’t the heat of the morning threatening to melt me into a puddle anymore. He pointed to the football. “You mind?”

It was lying at my feet, so I set my purse down, bent over and picked it up. I wished just for a second that I was wearing something a bit…nicer. I eyed the man in front of me as I walked it over to him. I wasn’t about to throw it and embarrass myself further. Nothing but running had ever been my thing. I’d lovedtrack and cross country when I was younger, though there hadn’t been an opportunity to keep up running lately.

He was still smiling as I walked up. He had his shirt off and there were tattoos covering his chest, arms, and neck. His jeans rode low on his hips, showing off a six pack that most men would kill to have.

I stopped in front of him and held out the ball. I didn’t say anything to him. This wasn’t the first time I’d noticed my neighbor. That had been when he’d pulled up on his motorcycle a few weeks ago. We’d just finished unloading our things a few hours before and were sitting out on the porch drinking lemonade. Mama had given me a warning look and said, “Don’t even think about it.”

She knew her daughter well, because I hadn’t stopped thinking about it. About him.

He took the ball, his tattooed fingers brushing mine. “Thanks.”

I nodded and started to turn away.

“What’s your name?”

Pausing, I looked back at him, then over at my house before facing him again. The curtains were still closed, which meant Mama wasn’t spying on us. “Camila.”

“I’m Kilo.”

My eyebrows shot up at that and I frowned. Sure he rode a motorcycle, had tattoos, and had one of those vest things that had the name Saint’s Outlaws Motorcycle Club on it, but the name still threw me for a loop. “Kilo?”

“That’s right,” he shrugged. “It’s my road name.”

He wasn’t wearing the vest now, as he played outside in the street with the kids. “What’s a road name?”

He chuckled. “It’s a nickname I was given.”

“Because you do drugs,” I said before I could stop myself. My eyes widened and both my hands slapped over my mouth. Dadhad always told me my mouth would get me in trouble. And boy had it over the years. Sometimes I wondered if he cursed me when he’d first told me that. Ever since, I’d done my best to keep those inner thoughts to myself, but most of the time it didn’t work.

Kilo’s laugh was deep and loud as he bent over a little, holding his flat stomach. “Alright,” he admitted once the laughter died down, “I could see how you’d think that. But no, it’s not because I do drugs.” He cocked his head. “Tell you what. Let me take you to dinner and I’ll explain how I got my road name.”

My eyes were so wide now they must have looked like saucers. I glanced back at the house again before focusing on him and shaking my head. “I can’t.” I turned and all but ran to my car in the driveway. The door slammed behind me, but when I looked over I saw those tanned, sweaty abs at the window.

I muttered to myself when he bent down a bit so I could see his face and made the ‘roll down the window’ motion. Glaring at him, I did.

He shot me another one of those mega-watt smiles and held up my purse.

Calling myself an idiot, I reached out to grab it, but he pulled it back before I could. I narrowed my eyes on his gorgeous face.

“Come on, Camila,” he all but purred at me. “You owe me now. First you insult me and then forget your purse, forcing me to deliver it to you. Going to dinner is the least you could do.” He dangled it and smiled.

“I don’t date men like you,” I told him.

His grin grew as he studied me. “What do you know about the kind of man I am?”

He had me there. All I knew was that he rode a motorcycle and had tattoos. He handed me my purse, giving me a heated look as he did so. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

My eyes flicked back to my house again and I groaned softly when I saw the curtains move. I was in for it when I got home.

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