Page 6 of Redeeming Rabbit

Tell her the truth. Be honest. Let her know what a fucking loser she’s dealing with.

But she watched me like I was the most fascinating person she’d ever met, and I wasn’t ready to shatter the illusion yet. I couldn’t lie and make myself out to be a hero either, so I fumbled for a response. Glancing down at the tattoos that had caught her attention, I came up with a version of the truth. “I was a scrawny kid who couldn’t afford a gym membership or ink.”

She cocked her head to the side, and her gaze met mine again. “Yet, unlike most of the population, you properly used ‘who’ instead of ‘that.’ You’re intelligent. Did you go to college?”

Was she… mocking me? I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out her angle, but she seemed genuinely curious. And maybe even a little impressed.

She wouldn’t look at you like that if she knew the truth.

No, she sure as shit wouldn’t. She’d look at me like the others did. Like I was some wounded bunny caught in the snare of a fucked-up life. Just another asshole from the wrong side of the tracks who turned everything I touched into shit. But she knew nothing about me. I could pretend to be worthy of her attention for a bit longer.

“No. College is substantially more expensive than a gym membership. I started anOnly Fanspage to pay for my tuition, but nobody paid to see pictures of my fuckin’ feet.”

The side of her lips quirked, and her eyes lit up. “You’re funny.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “A real Roger Rabbit. Is that the reason for your biker name?”

“Road name,” I corrected because she was the type of chick who’d want to get shit right. “And… Roger Rabbit? Are you talkin’ about the cartoon?”

The disbelieving look she gave me was almost comical. “Who Framed Roger Rabbitwasn’t a cartoon,” she said, sounding offended. “It was a groundbreaking technical cinematic marvel that combined animation with live-action acting.”

I’d seen the movie a few times. To be honest, closer to a dozen or so. And I’d skipped over most of the flick to catch scenes with a particular character. Like most heterosexual guys my age, my teenage spank bank had been brimming with images of Jessica Rabbit.

“But back to yourroadname,” Elenore said. “I’m guessing they didn’t name you after Roger, did they?”

Amused, I shook my head. “Afraid not.”

Her eyes lit up. “Don’t tell me, let me guess.” She dropped her phone back onto the entryway table and thoughtfully tapped the Taser against her leg. “Is there a common theme to biker names?” Without waiting for me to reply, she plowed ahead. “It’s obvious they’re not all based on animals since I’ve met Tap and Kaos. Tap said your leader’s name is Link. If it weren’t for you, I’d believe violence to be the theme since Tap is slang for shooting someone, Link makes me think of chains which could be used as a weapon, and Kaos…well, chaos is every scientist’s worst nightmare.” She chuckled at her own joke. “I suppose rabbits could be vicious if cornered, but you’re definitely more of a Roger than a wild hare.”

Had I not seen her work through questions with Tap, I would have assumed she was rambling, but this was Elenore’s method. I enjoyed watching her brilliant mind at work, content she’d never crack the mystery of my road name.

“What are you smiling at?” Elenore asked.

“Just can’t get over the fact that someone as smart as you watches cartoons.”

She straightened. “I don’t watch cartoons, but if I did, there’d be nothing wrong with that. Studies show they positively benefit childhood linguistic, cognitive, emotional, physical, and social development levels, Roger.”

Nerdy shouldn’t be so damn hot, but it sure was on Elenore. I still didn’t know what to think of the nickname she’d given me, so I fucked with her a little. Lunging forward, I closed the distance between us, startling a gasp from her lips. She staggered a step back, then seemed to remember herself and planted her feet, staring up at me defiantly. This close, her hazel eyes were more green than brown. Hints of copper radiated from her pupils, and a thick, dark green band encircled her irises. Unique and fucking captivating, just like the woman herself. She smelled sweet and tempting. Unable to help myself, I breathed deeply through my nose, savoring the scent and sighing my approval.

“W-what are you doing?”

“You think I’m a joke?” I asked. “A Roger Rabbit?”

Eyes wide, lips parted, she shook her head. “He’s not a joke. A little zany, yes, but not a joke. More like unconventional and idiosyncratic. And yes, from the behavior you’ve exhibited thus far, I’d say that’s an accurate description of you.”

I had to hand it to her, she wasn’t wrong. “Yeah? Well, I have a nickname for you, too. Postal.”

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “You think I’m in danger of a mental breakdown resulting in the deaths of all who’ve dared anger me?”

Oddly enough, she sounded more curious than offended. Filing that information away for later, I took a step back and let my gaze gobble up her body as I fisted my hands to keep myself from touching her.

“No. It’s your… assets. Fuckin’ perfection. I could never pick one thing about you that’s better than the rest. You’re the full package. Postal.”

She folded her arms across her chest, pointing the Taser toward me. “I think I’d rather be nicknamed for my propensity to snap.”

“Okay, fine. We’ll go with that story. I’ll call you Poe for short.” Grinning, I let my gaze drop to the weapon and quoted the onlyWho Framed Roger Rabbitline I could remember. “Is that a rabbit in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Now you’re just trying too hard.” She gestured toward the living room. “Probably best to retrieve your keys and go.”

Not even five minutes had passed since she’d opened the door, and I’d already disappointed her. That checked out. Once again defeated by my number one nemesis—me—it was time to come clean. I marched to the sectional, slid my hand in the crack between the armrest and chaise lounge, and lifted my keys. Yep, I’d known exactly where they were and had lied to her. Tossing them into the air, I caught them and stuffed them into my pocket.

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