Page 7 of My Casanova

“Stan,” I said and dragged out his name. “You’re not on the schedule until Thursday. Enjoy your days off and don’t eventhinkabout Wine and Cheese Me.” I turned off the burner and moved the pot to the kitchen island.

Stan scoffed. “Fine. I’ll just watchJeopardy, meditate, and try that Manchego we got in last week.”

“And the goat cheese,” I added. “We still need to figure out the best pairing for it.” Stan loved trying out new productsand figuring out pairings. I liked it too, but for him, it was almost a sport.

“I’ll let you know on Thursday,” he said before he hung up.

I grabbed a fork from the drawer and leaned against the counter. I ate straight from the pot. Sure, I could grab a plate and sit down like a proper adult, but what was the point? I was the only one eating, and there was no reason to dirty more dishes.

I had stuck around the shop until six when the cops and fire department finally left, and by six-thirty, I was home eating half a pot of Rice-A-Roni. My plan for the night? Plopping on the couch and binging more ofThe Equalizer. Queen Latifah was everything, and I was hoping—no,rooting—for her and the hot cop to finally hook up. I was only halfway through season one, but my hopes were high.

I needed the distraction tonight.

I still hadn’t wrapped my head around everything that had happened earlier. My brain kept replaying it, over and over, and the same face stuck front and center.

Smoke.

I didn’t know why, but something about that man wouldn’t let me go.

Sure, he was handsome—like ruggedly, unfairly handsome—with that bad-boy air. Then again, all his friends had that vibe. But there was something about him in particular. Something that wouldn’t leave me alone.

I chalked it up to how chaotic the day had been. Hot, tattooed bikers didn’t just fall out of the sky and into my life every day.

I took another bite and chewed slowly as I mulled it over. That had to be it.

When I finished, I stashed the leftovers in the fridge, topped off my wine, and headed for the couch. My favoriteblanket was waiting for me, and I draped it over my legs as I queued up the next episode of TheEqualizer.

This was exactly what I needed: just me, my wine, and Queen Latifah.

No Smoke.

Chapter Four

Smoke

I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. My body felt like one big bruise even three days after the explosion. Every breath came with a dull ache in my ribs. It was a brutal reminder that I wasn’t as indestructible as I liked to think. My arms and face itched from the scabbing cuts, and my muscles screamed every time I shifted even a little.

Thursday.

The past three days had been a blur of painkillers, restless sleep, and the low murmur of voices outside my room. The club was laying low and keeping things quiet, which was for the best. The cops didn’t think we were behind the explosion, but they sure as hell wondered why we always seemed to be in the middle of shit when things went south.

The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, and the rhythmic creak of its motor was the only sound in the room. My cut hung over the back of the chair in the corner, and my boots were neatly tucked beneath it.

I needed to get up.

Sitting here feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to make the soreness go away, and if I didn’t start moving, I’d be stiff for weeks.

“Fuck it,” I muttered and forced myself to move. I gritted my teeth against the sharp protest of my ribs and planted my feet on the floor.

I moved slowly as I pulled a black shirt over my tattooed torso and winced as the fabric dragged across healing wounds. I shrugged on my cut and felt better with the weight of the leather, reminding me who the hell I was. My boots went on next, andeach movement was still painful but better than the last. Finally, I grabbed my motorcycle keys off the nightstand and headed out.

The clubhouse was quiet, with only the low hum of the TV filling the space. Dice was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the back with his eyes half-watching whatever mindless shit was on. He barely glanced up as I walked in.

“Where you going?” he asked, his voice scratchy like he’d been up all night.

“Ride.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Where to?”

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