Page 6 of Stranded With the Biker

“Pipe—"

“But the dark?” I licked my lips and felt the heat in his gaze shoot right through me. “I’m not good with the dark. I’ve never been. Not since…” My voice dropped off to nothing. Shame hit my cheeks at the memory I’d never shared. Not with anyone. Not even Allie.

“Since what?” His hand rose and cupped the side of my face with a tender touch so gentle and sweet it took my breath away. Who knew a biker like him could have that in him?

“Since I was little.” I swallowed hard. “I’m what you would call the black sheep of my family.” He grunted but didn’t remove his hand. I had no idea why I was telling him this. But I was. And I knew nothing was going to stop me. When I leaned into his touch, the pad of his thumb stroked the apple of my cheek. How could I feel so safe with a man in the darkness I dreaded? A man I hardly knew and a little while ago would have sworn would push me away if I tried to hug him.

“I got in a fight with my sister, and my parents decided to punish me.” His thumb stilled and his body grew taut. “They didn’t hit me or anything. But… they sent me down to the basement. They knew I hated it down there.” I glanced up at him. His eyes were pinned on me. The intensity was overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

“What happened, little one?”

“We had a blackout, and the door jammed. I was stuck there all night. I hated it. Every shadow and sound.” I shivered, and his other hand stroked my back.

“All night?” His eyes widened. “Your dad didn’t rip the door off its hinges?” I shook my head “Why?” he asked, not hiding the disgust in his face.

“They forgot about me,” I whispered into the darkness. “They forgot they had sent me down there and didn’t remember until the morning.” Hugo shocked me by pulling me into his front and wrapping his arms around me, caging me in the warm safety of his embrace.

“Fucking hell, princess,” he muttered on top of my curls. “How the hell is that even possible?” he rasped. I shrugged, blinking away the tears. Even years later, I tried to justify their actions. Leaving a six-year-old all alone in a drafty, ugly, dusty dark basement? All because they wouldn’t dare mess with the structural integrity of their beloved historical home. Forgetting me?Am I that forgettable? Unlovable?

“I’d have killed them,” he rumbled. It made my lips tip up. There was something overwhelmingly sweet about his sentiment. Almost overprotective. Possessive.You wish. I reminded myself of his interaction with Nicole compared to how he dealt with me. “I’m so sorry for being a weenie.” I forced myself to pull away from his embrace to glance up at him.

“I totally invaded your personal bubble,” I sheepishly brought up.

“You can invade my space anytime, princess.”

“Princess?” I repeated with a soft smile before shaking my head. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that.” It was true. Not one of my boyfriends or anyone in my life had ever given me a nickname that wasn’t somehow a shortened version of my name.

“Good. That means it’s special, which it’s meant to be,” he answered without missing a beat. My heart fluttered in my chest, along with an acrobatic team of butterflies that started to fly in unison deep in my belly.

“Hugo—“

“I think you picked up on the fact we got stranded here together?” He clearly wanted to change the subject.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Are the doors locked?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.” I nodded, pulling back, a little sad that he let me go. “We should go check. If not, do you have your phone?” he asked, and I shook my head.

“No. I was about to ask you if you had yours,” I admitted. “I left mine in a storage box in the car.”

“I left mine in the truck. I came back for this.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket.

“Inventory list?” I guessed, and his gaze softened.

“Yeah, baby.”Yeah, baby.Whoosh! My belly didn’t know what to do with itself! First princess, now baby?

“I had to use the bathroom,” I shared way too much and winced. “I mean…”

“Hey,” he stopped me. He didn’t even chuckle. “We all have to go.” He simply winked, taking a step back, and as he did, his hand found mine, tangling our fingers together like he had done it a million times. My eyes dropped to where we were connected, and I had to bite the inside of my lip instead of pinching myself. I liked him holding my hand. His much tanner skin contrasted with my pale one.

“Let’s go see if the doors are locked, and if they’re not, how about we go get dinner? My treat.”

“I’d love that.” I probably agreed too easily when I smiled.

I wasn’t sure if I was hoping we would be stuck together for the next two days or if the doors were unlocked. Either way, it seemed like Santa got to me early this year because the idea ofspending more time with the giant rugged biker was suddenly on the top of my wish list.

Hugo

I triedto remember the last time I held someone’s hand and couldn’t. Not someone like one of my mom or grandma’s church friends when they needed help getting to their car or to a seat when I was over visiting them. But a woman.

---