Page 34 of The Opposite Effect

“I know.” I stop her retreating steps. “But I still want to make sure your travels are done safely.”

The feared expression on her face morphs into confusion. When bus 57 pulls into the curb in front of us, I gesture my head to it. “You can ride the bus to Inked, but only when I’m following you.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “You rode all the way to this side of town just to follow me to work?”

Nodding, I reply, “Yep,” without a smidge of hesitation.

“Why?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Why not? You’re my friend. I want to help you out.”

Call me pussy-whipped or any other name you like, but this is the only solution I could come up with for Clara’s predicament. Although she may be a smart-mouthed lady when she wants to be, that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t have someone looking out for her. Considering no one appears willing to fill that role, I’ve stepped up to the plate.

When Clara remains quiet, I stare into her confused eyes, wordlessly advising that my offer comes with no strings attached. It is nothing more than a friend helping another friend. No matter how much she makes my cock ache, I’m not here trying to find a way into her panties. I’m justlooking out for her.

“If you don’t hurry, your chariot will leave without you, Princess.” I nudge my head to the bus driver, who’s glaring at her as he impatiently waits for her to board.

Clara’s massively dilated eyes bounce between the Asian bus driver and me for numerous heart-clenching seconds. Her pulse is throbbing through her veins so furiously, the entire left side of her neck is twitching. I don’t know if her freaked-out expression is about her upcoming bus trip or at my sudden attempt to call a truce between us. Either way, she needs to board the bus before it leaves her stranded on the sidewalk.

My heart thrashes my ribs when she snatches my helmet resting on my thigh, throws it on her head, then hooks her leg over my bike. Even though I hoped this outcome might be a possibility, I honestly didn’t believe it would actually happen. Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond stoked. I’m just shocked as well.

Clara plasters her torso as close to my back as possible before muttering, “Go before I change my mind.”

I tighten her grip around my waist before kicking over my bike. Even the deep rumble of my engine can’t overtake the mad beat of her heart pulverizing my back. Not wanting to scare her, I keep well under the speed limit and leave a good three car spaces between the motorist in front and me. Although I can’t see her, I’m fairly sure her eyes are snapped shut as tightly as her arms are curled around my waist.

Twenty miles later, the loud boom of my engine bellowing down the alley secures the attention of Charity and Diesel as they make their way from the parking lot to the employee’s entrance of Inked.

When Charity notices Clara on the back of my bike, she smiles a broad grin and playfully winks. Even though Diesel bowed out on his endeavor of pursuing Clara months ago, he still looks like a kid who had his lunch money stolen. If I were asrespectful as him in our little black book game we’ve been playing since our school years, I could inform him that his assessment of the situation is misguided. But unfortunately for Diesel, I have no intention of doing that.

If he fails to see the true meaning of my relationship with Clara, so be it. Nothing against him—he’s a great employee and an even better friend—but I’m not an idiot. I’ll do anything I can to ensure his greasy mitts stay off Clara. Even going as far as pretending I’ve sealed the deal when I haven’t and have no intention of doing so.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Hey,” Clara greets, her voice a throaty purr.

I jerk up my chin in greeting before handing her the black helmet I purchased especially for her to use when she rides with me. Her face pales as she places the helmet onto her head and climbs onto my bike. Even though she’s been riding with me the past three weeks, the panicked expression that crosses her face hasn’t once altered.

The only thing that has changed is her clothing selection. She no longer wears designer dresses and fancy skirts, opting instead for black trousers or the occasional pair of jeans. Although her clothing choices are more suitable for riding on a motorbike, I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss watching her strut around Inked in her figure-hugging dresses.

Actually, come to think of it, I’m not the only one complaining. A handful of male customers have cited objections the past three weeks. Some even went as far as stating I should make it mandatory for Clara to wear a dress as her uniform.

I may have dug my tattoo gun in a little deeper those days.

Things between Clara and me have been following along the same path that started when she began working at Inked, although she’s a lot less bitchy now. Don’t take my admission the wrong way. She doesn’t hesitate to whip out her fiery tongue when needed. She can argue with the finest, but instead of unleashing a torrent of malicious words with no just cause, she reserves them for more compelling moments.

Take last week, for example. Johnny was happily accepting part of his tattooing payment in a non-monetary way. Stupidly, he decided to do the exchange in the supply closet of Inked. When Clara walked in on them, let me just say, Johnny was lucky he walked away with only a slight limp. The bunny he was entertaining… she’ll think twice before she calls Clara a skanky bitch again.

When we arrive at Inked, Clara climbs off my bike and hands me her helmet. “Thanks for the ride. It should only be a few more days until my car is returned. It was all just ahugemisunderstanding.”

I nod, pretending I haven’t heard the same declaration twice a day for the past three weeks. It eats away at me not knowing what’s going on with her life, but no matter how badly I want to know why her car was towed the same night she got served an eviction notice, I won’t force her to share. Clara is only just coming out of her shell, so I won’t do anything that will risk her taking a step backward. It is also not my place to demand an explanation of her private life. Although our relationship has veered more toward the friend zone the past few weeks, I’m still her boss, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to demand anything from her.

“Are you listening?” I mumble to my cock while shadowing Clara into the back entrance of Inked.

I’d like to say my cock’s interest in Clara has waned as the weeks rolled by, but unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Whether she’s giving me lip or whining about the outdated computer in myoffice, my cock’s attention has never wavered. I may not have any claim to her, but if you asked my cock the same question, I’m confident he’d tell you Clara owns his ass. He doesn’t care about protocol or morals. He just wants Clara.

Clara’s brisk pace slows to the speed of a tortoise when the crew of Inked breaks into a poorly serenaded version of “Happy Birthday” the instant they spot her sauntering down the hallway. She stiffens before her wide eyes bounce between her work companions and me. When she notices the triple-layered chocolate cake I asked Ryder’s missus to bake for her, a single tear escapes her eye and rolls down her ashen cheek.

“I can’t,” she mutters under her breath as she barges past Charity, nearly sending her and her birthday cake toppling to the ground.

---