Page 1 of My Casanova

Chapter One

Dani

It was dead.

Not literally, of course, but it might as well have been. Mondays were usually slow, but today seemed worse. I had Stan to thank for that.

Stan was amazing. Truly, he was. He’d worked all weekend, restocked shelves, cleaned, and organized everything to perfection. He made running the Wine and Cheese Me so much easier, but on Mondays like this, his overachieving left me with nothing to do.

The bottles of wine were dusted, the kegs of imported olive oil were full, and the cheese display looked like it belonged in a glossy magazine. I had a small delivery of olives and dried fruits coming later, but it would barely take fifteen minutes to unpack and stash in the back.

So there I was, scrolling through my phone behind the counter and hoping for a customer to walk in.

I sighed, opened my podcast app, and hunted for something new to listen to. My options were getting slim. I settled on a true crime episode about the murder of Lesly Palacio and let it play as I leaned against the counter.

About ten minutes in, the whole building shook.

Like,shook.

The cheese case rattled violently, and I dropped to the ground behind the counter with a yelp. My heart was racing as I whispered, “What the hell?”

Texas wasn’t earthquake country, but lately, it felt like nothing was off the table anymore. For a second, I stayed crouched and listened to the unsettling creaks of the building. Then I peeked over the counter, and my stomach lurched.

There was a man lying just outside my front door.

Smoke filled the parking lot, and the scent of burning metal and debris wafted in. I didn’t know what had just happened, but I knew one thing—I needed to check on the guy lying in front of my shop.

I ran to the door, pushed it open just enough to slip through, and dropped to my knees beside him.

“Hey,” I said as my voice trembled when I pressed two fingers to the side of his neck. “Come on, come on…” My brief stint as an EMT when I was twenty was paying off.

Relief washed over me when I found a pulse—steady, strong. “Thank god,” I whispered.

The man was sprawled on the concrete, face half-turned into the ground. He was tall, broad, and muscular, with scrapes and dirt smeared across his arms. His leather vest caught my attention—worn and faded, with the nameSmokeembroidered on the lapel. Beneath that was a patch I recognized: the Iron Fiends, a local motorcycle club.

I’d seen them around town before. Their roaring bikes were impossible to miss, but I’d never spoken to any of them. They weren’t exactly my target demographic. The moms and single women who frequented my shop didn’t typically mix with the biker crowd.

“Hey, Smoke,” I said softly and tapped his shoulder. My fingers brushed the leather of his cut, and the fabric was scorched. “Can you hear me?”

A faint groan escaped him, and his head twitched ever so slightly. Relief flooded through me; at least he was alive. I crouched closer, and my knees pressed into the cracked pavement.

“Smoke,” I whispered again, a little more urgently. His eyes fluttered open, and his glassy haze locked onto mine for a moment before his head rolled to the side.

“What the fuck?” he croaked, his voice rough like gravel being dragged over metal.

I sat back on my heels. “Yeah,” I murmured. “What the fuck is right.” The explosion that had rocked the little strip mall still reverberated in my ears. Maybe it was a gas line or something. What else could it have been?

Smoke shifted and tried to push himself up. His arm trembled under the effort, and he collapsed back with a hiss of pain. I reached out instinctively and steadied him by the shoulder. “I think you should stay put until help comes,” I suggested, my voice firm now.

He grunted and shook his head. “I don’t need help. I need to make sure everyone else is okay.”

“Everyone else?” I repeated, confused. My gaze darted around the deserted parking lot. The strip mall was small—just my shop, Wine and Cheese Me, a dry cleaner, an exotic fish store, and a couple of empty units. Hardly the kind of place you’d expect a biker gang to congregate at.

“I need to get up,” Smoke said, his tone more insistent.

“Look, you’re not going anywhere right now,” I told him and planted a hand on his chest to keep him down. It wasn’t like I could stop him if he were at full strength, but right now, he wasn’t much of a match. “I’m sure your friends are fine. Just... stay still, okay?”

His eyes fluttered shut again, and his breathing was shallow. “Angel,” he murmured, the word barely audible.

---