Page 4 of Stranded With the Biker

“Rep?” I repeated, my eyes laser-focused on his mouth. Why was his mouth so perfect? Pouty and full lips, almost so symmetrical, I couldn’t tell which was bigger, the bottom or the top.

“With my buddies,” he rumbled. His hand touched my arm. I could feel the heat of his touch seeping through the crocheted material of my cardigan, and I was tempted to take it off to feelhim skin to skin. “I’ll never hear the end of working this place to start with.” His hand slipped from my arm down to my waist, and my breath hitched.

“This place?” I repeated, as my brain quickly recovered from whatever lust-filled haze he’d put me in. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I stood straighter.

“I just mean, this whole thing… let’s just say it’s not my usual spot to hang.”

“Spot to… Wait, what does that mean? There is nothing wrong with a craft market.” I had no idea why I felt defensive.

Liar,a voice whispered in my head. My parents had all but disowned me after I chose crafts over law.

“There isn’t but?—“

“What would you rather be doing?” I cut him off. “Hang out in some garage working with tools and cars?”

“Yes,” he answered keenly. “Bikes mostly.”

“Actually? I was being?—“

“Bratty?” he cut me off. Now my face really heated up, probably making me match the color of my hair. Why did I think Hugo calling me bratty was kinda hot? Suddenly, I liked the idea of him putting me over his lap and spanking me. I shivered and stepped back.

“Anyhow, umm, what kind of bikes? Five speeds? Mountain or––“

“Harleys,” he cut in, and I could tell he was having a tough time not smiling. Instead, those dark, beautiful eyes of his seemed to do it for him. It was crazy captivating. “Yamahas. Indians,” he added.Motorcycles.That really made sense! He had an air of bad boy to him.

“Of course.” My eyes fluttered shut, and I wished a huge black hole would suck me up. “Well… that’s cool. I’m sorry about your sister. I hope she feels better soon.”

“Thanks.” He gifted me a soft smile and stepped forward. “Now you’re the one being sweet,” he complimented. I really had to get away from him before I did something stupid, like roll up on the tips of my toes and kiss him.

“Umm…” I stepped back from his touch completely. And I hated it. “I don’t usually sell cardigans,” I started to explain. “It’s too hard to keep a variety of sizes in stock, but…” I walked around the table. Every step away from him felt wrong. I opened one of my stock bins and dug around.

“Here it is!” I pulled out the yellow- and black-striped cardigan. “Maybe this is something she would like?” I handed it to him.

When our fingers brushed, I felt my body react. His eyes dipped down to my front, but I didn’t dare look down. I didn’t need to confirm that my nipples were pebbled and standing at attention against the white shirt I had stupidly worn today. His gaze eyes dipped lower, and I was almost positive they darkened. They roamed up, and I swore I felt his gaze leave a trail of heat on my suddenly overly sensitive skin before they met mine.

“What do you think?” I asked breathily.

“Looks great.” His voice sounded scratchy. I bit the inside of my cheek.Is he talking about the cardigan or my tits?He frowned and ran his fingers through his wavy milk chocolate hair. “I mean, I’ll buy it.” He cleared his throat.

“Oh!” For some reason, I hated the disappointment he had been talking about the sweater and not me. Before I could think about what to say, the gorgeous vendor next to his called his name.

“Hugo!” Her bright red-lipped smile shined in our direction, and just like that, his attention on me was gone. “Could you help me?” She pointed at one of the many fake Christmas trees she had surrounding her Christmas ornament stand.

“Sure,” he called and turned toward me. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and for some reason, no matter how hard I tried not to hear it, it sounded like a promise.

“Right,” I whispered. I felt like a nerd while I stood where he left me. I watched him talk to the tall, lithe blonde who walked around in heels like she was barefoot.

I really thought I could avoid whatever I had been fighting to feel since I had laid eyes on the big, bad, older, grouchy-looking biker. I’d felt excitement inside of me when we met. Something familiar but new. Something I had no idea how to describe.

But it didn’t matter.

I had been wrong.

There was no way I could feel what I felt when it was obvious he wasn’t interested in me. Not when he talked and laughed so easily with his booth mate, Nicole of Nicole’s Ornaments.

I was obviously not his type. I shouldn’t have been disappointed. I wasn’t anyone’s type. When I was, I wasn’t their type for long.

Hugo

---