Page 70 of Stealing the Biker

“Don’t make that face at me. The walls between our rooms are thin. I know you’ve been having phone sex with him.”

“Sam!”

“Don’t try lying to me, Kiesha Marie.”

“Okay fine. We’ve been talking, talking on the phone and texting, but it’s been a long time since we’ve been around each other and people change. I could meet up with him and decide his breath stinks and never see him ever again.”

Sam laughs. “You’re so full of shit. Give me a hug and get out of here.”

“Love you, Sam. I’m going to miss our morning coffee chats and taco bars.”

“Me too.” They sniffle. “Now get before I cry.”

I load up the last of my bags and strap Fireball’s carrier into the passenger seat. She’s not happy about another move, but I’m excited about going home.

Jimmy and I ran into each other when I was home for Christmas, and I don’t know. He was different. More mature and the attraction between us was as strong as it ever was.

We started texting here and there, but when I told him I was moving home, he asked if I thought I could give him another chance. Nothing is set in stone, but I’m open to seeing where things lead.

After seven hours on the road, it’s late when I arrive in Charleston. As promised, I fire off a text to Jimmy, letting him know I made it safe and sound.

I’m here. Heading to Mom’s to crash.

It’s late. You should come here so you don’t wake them.

I doubt Mom would care, but he makes an appealing offer.

Is this your way of trying to get me alone?

I’ll sleep on the couch and promise to be on my best behavior.

What if I don’t want you to behave?

Is that a yes?

Text me the address.

Fifteen minutes later, Fireball and I pull up to Jimmy’s apartment building. He took over renting Trenton’s apartment when he moved across the hall with Stella. I park in the guest parking spot and before I get the chance, he’s opening my door for me.

“Hi.”

“Brat,” he calls me his nickname for me and my heart skips a beat at how it sounds in his gruff voice. He looks different. A good different. More muscles and tattoos. Thicker facial hair. Becoming a patched member of Bastard Sons has done him good. It’s like an instant switch to a bad ass hottie when someone joins the club.

All he’s missing right now is his cut, and he’d be picture perfect. He’s not even wearing shoes. I laugh at the sight of him barefoot and think back about painting his toenails with my little sister. He wouldn’t look so tough with pink glitter on his toes.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I’m slap happy from the drive.”

“Then I better help you properly stretch.” He grins and I shake my head.

“Don’t start.”

“Baby, I’m revved up and ready.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” He flashes me another smile, and it hits me how much I’ve missed him. I climb out of the car and throw my arms around him, taking him off guard as he takes a step back while embracing me.

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