Page 61 of Rio's Release

My hands gently settle on his waist, then skim up his sides. I feel him tense and pull away, breaking off the kiss.

I frown. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not a thing, angel. Just got a sore rib.”

“What happened?” Concern bubbles through me.

“Nothing important; just a little accident at the shop. How was your drive?”

“Not too bad.” His friend Zig is with him, and I give Rio a confused look. “What’s going on?”

“Zig’s gonna drive your car to the clubhouse. That way you can ride with me.”

“Okay.”

Rio threads his fingers through mine and leads me to the passenger seat, helping me into the truck. He closes the door and walks around to his side, sliding behind the wheel.

We’re back on the road in no time, and he reaches over, taking my hand.

I like it—the feel of my small hand in his.

Before I know it, he’s turning up a long gravel driveway beyond a tall fence. We reach a big steel building, and he parks out front.

He turns the engine off. “This is it.”

It’s nothing like what I expected, though I’m not surewhatI expected.

“Wait there.” He climbs out and opens my door for me, helping me down with a hand.

I like the way he treats me—with care, like I’m something precious. Around him I feel special, and that’s something I’ve never felt with anyone else.

He holds the front door for me to precede him into the building.

It smells like fresh paint and cut wood, like everything is new, which it appears to be.

There’s a bar on the right and across the room is a nice set of caramel colored leather furniture gathered around a big screen tv. A colorful Native American rug sits under the grouping.

Beyond that is a pool table and a hallway leading to the back, and a staircase ascending to a second level.

“You’ve done all this since you got out? That’s really something. I like it,” I tell him.

My compliment lights up his face. “It’s amazing what you can do if you put your mind to it,andif you have six men to do the work.” The corner of his mouth tugs up in a smirk.

The place is empty, except for one guy behind the bar, and I can’t help wondering if that’s by design.

“Where are they all?” I ask.

“I told ‘em to make themselves scarce.” Rio grins sheepishly.

“Oh.”

He leads me to the bar.

“What can I get you, boss?” the man bartending asks.

“Bourbon,” he says, then turns to me. “What’ll you have, Shelby?”

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, thinking. “Um, if you have orange juice, I’ll have a screwdriver.”

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