Page 3 of My Darling Mayhem

"Wait here, Peanut."

I opened my door and realized the motorcycle had pulled into the driveway next door. It was the brand-new two-story house that had just been built. I had no idea who had purchased the home, but I assumed it was someone from the city who planned to rent it out. Maybe it was, but whoever this person was had just pulled in like they were the new owner.

The man sat atop a chrome bike, pulling off his helmet—it was one of those half helmets, with just the chin strap underneath. He had on a black leather vest with a myriad of patches on the back. I didn't register what they said, but I noticed the rider had longer blond hair that looked wind-blown.His entire ensemble looked messy and wild as if he were a rogue bolt of lightning that had found a place to strike and linger.

Crossing my arms, I walked along the white sidewalk that attached our two driveways and approached the man.

"Hey!"

He twisted, still seated on his bike. He turned his engine off, which helped because I didn't want to get too close just to verbally berate him.

Narrowed eyes focused on me as if I had just done something wrong to him. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah…" I gestured behind me, where Cruz was peeking through the window with a curious expression. "You nearly hit us."

The man's eyes flicked to the car, then back to me. His jaw flexed as if he'd slammed his back molars together in frustration.

Finally, after a few stretched moments, he deadpanned, "Sorry."

His gaze swung forward as if to dismiss me.

For some reason, that just didn't feel like enough.

"Are you the new renter here?" I asked, lifting my eyes to the two-story house. This model's finishing touches were farmhouse-style. White siding sheathed the outside while black paint framed the shutters and trim, with raw wood beams for posts. It was beautifully made.

The man sighed as if this conversation was exhausting to him. His boot shot out, kicking the metal stand for his bike, and then he tossed his leg over the seat and stood while he regarded me. He was tall…like six foot two, or?—

"Was there something else you needed?"

My anger snapped back in place, heating my chest like a furnace. I wanted to flip him off or get in his face and yell. I settled on delivering my best resting bitch face. "Just wanted to know if we're going to have to deal with your insufferablyloud engine all the time or if maybe you were just here fixing something." I smiled as if I'd just paid him a compliment. I was being a bitch. I knew I was, but all I could think about was that little sound Cruz had made when we'd jerked forward or the way the coffee spilled all over my car.

My rudeness was warranted. His was not.

Right as my mouth opened with an extra reply, another bike roared from around the corner, speeding down the street. Then another. I stepped back, slightly concerned, wanting to be closer to Cruz.

The man glared at me.

Shit, how many were going to show up here?

My breath caught right as my heel found a crack in the sidewalk, making me nearly pinwheel backward.

"Careful, princess, don't need you falling and breaking that pretty face."

He turned away from me, walking toward the house without giving me a second glance while the two other bikes stopped in his driveway, both men wearing the same leather vest he had on. One of the men scowled while I made my way to the car; the other laughed while whistling at me. My face heated, not because he'd catcalled me, but because I shouldn't have given this man the edge of knowing his presence bothered me. Now, he'd likely be here all the time with his band of misfit friends and all their loud motorcycles.

This was a good neighborhood. We didn't need a fucking motorcycle club moving in.

Sliding back into my car, I revved my pathetic four-cylinder engine and drove away, watching the men in my rearview laugh and shake their heads while I went.

TWO

WREN

My face hurt from smiling.

Not in a good way, where it was genuine. No, I had been fake smiling at all the couples I had met with throughout the day. I was a sales agent for Encore Homes, a desirable builder that had sunk its teeth into the small town of Atlas, New York, where families had started flooding by the dozens.

Our little town was nestled just an hour outside New York City, and these homes have been selling left and right for the last three years. Encore had started purchasing land, creating cute neighborhoods with nearby parks built-in, tailored landscaping, and gorgeous views of the only nearby lake.

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