Page 17 of A Little Broken

“I was late,” I tell her.

“For what?”

“For the set. Which is your fault, by the way,” I add.

Arms folded, she pops out one hip. “So?”

“So, after one too many fuck ups, Dodger made a rule. If you’re late on stage, you’re in charge of handling the fans who’ve had too much to drink during the meet and greets.”

“Yeah, because that sounds like it’s such a chore for a guy like you,” she counters.

My mouth lifts. “Depends on the fan. Where’s your hotel?”

Pulling her phone out, she tells me the name, and I nod, familiar with the area. “Hop on.”

With a sigh, she climbs on the back, her arms hanging limply at her sides as if she doesn’t know what to do with them. I turn the ignition, and the bike rumbles to life beneath us. She fumbles for the handles beneath her ass, reminding me of an anxious baby bird or some shit.

Grateful she can’t read the amusement on my face, I ask, “You ever been on a bike?”

“No?”

“Is that a question?”

She smacks my shoulder. “No, I’ve never been on a bike.”

Called it.

“You’re gonna wanna hold on,” I tell her.

“I am holding on.”

I rev the engine, and the bike jerks forward.

“Shit!” Tatum slams into my back, her arms wrapping around my waist.

“Now you’re holding on,” I quip.

“Smartass.”

“Long way or short way to the hotel?”

“Short,” she yells over the rumbling engine.

“Your wish is my command.”

Turning onto the main highway, I start the short trip to her hotel. Minutes pass, and her muscles slowly loosen, the tension from when we first climbed on the bike morphing into an easy grip as we weave between cars.

“Woo-hoo!” she screams, though I doubt she knows I can hear her. I like it, though. The glimpse of the girl she seems to keep hidden when others are around. Or maybe it’s just me she’s hiding from. Nah, that’s not true. Seeing her with the rest of the guys is all the confirmation I need. This girl’s a vault, and I’ve always been a sucker for picking locks.

When we pull off the highway and stop at a light, she bends around me, yelling, “I changed my mind!”

I twist to look at her, my brows pinched in confusion.

“I want the long way,” she clarifies. “If the offer’s still on the table.”

Glancing at the red light, I check left and right, confirming the road is empty before twisting my wrist and cutting through the intersection.

Her surprised squeal of laughter seeps from her chest and into my back, bringing a smile of my own as we dart across the dark road. Then, we’re flying.

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