Page 27 of Gunner

“Thank you.”

Lost in thought, I walked down Main Street toward my car after leaving the store. I had a few more errands to run but wanted to drop the books off instead of carrying them around.

“Haizley, wait up!”

Oh God, not again. Brian Caster was driving me crazy. When would he get it?

“Sorry, Brian, I don’t have time,” I called out behind me, hoping once again that he would take the hint.

Picking up my pace, I tried to get away.

I knew it was futile, though. This town wasn’t big enough to get lost in a crowd.

“Come on, Haizley, stop. Don’t be a bitch.”

That stopped me in my tracks. No one got to call me a bitch. Sure, I could be a bitch, but only when I needed to be.

I turned around and glared at Brian.

“What did you call me?” I growled.

“Haizley, I’m sorry, but come on. Just have dinner with me. You need someone to take care of you,” the weasel reasoned.

“Brian, I have been taking care of myself for the last twelve years. I don’t need you or anyone else to take care of me,” I declared, poking him in the chest with my finger.

“Haiz,” he said, grabbing my finger, trying to pull me closer.

“Haizley!” a deep voice yelled out.

I turned my head and there he was.

Sitting on his bike, looking sexier than any man had a right to.

Gunner.

He was tall, like pro basketball tall. Though I doubt he ever played. Maybe he did in high school, but then I wondered if he ever went to high school. Maybe he was just born a six-foot-eight God.

His long legs stretched out on either side of his bike, and his hand raised up so he could crook his finger at me.

“Haizley, babe. Come here, now,” he commanded, and my body obeyed without conscious thought.

He knew my name.

Brian let go at the command of the biker, and I walked to him. Standing at the side of his bike, I stared into his emerald eyes.

His hand went to my hip, and he pulled me closer.

Leaning close, he whispered in my ear, “Is he bothering you? Do I need to kick his ass?”

The low timbre of his voice caught me so off guard that I couldn’t say a word. I just continued to stare. His words rolled over me like hot coffee on a cold Nebraska winter day.

“Babe,” he whispered again.

I could hear his words, but I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying to me. Up to this point, our interactions had been caustic at best.

He stood up, swinging his leg over the bike, and I instinctively took a step back. I watched him walk over to where Brian still foolishly stood on the sidewalk.

Gunner towered over Brian, who maxed out at five foot ten. He stared up at Gunner, and I could see the fear billowing off him in waves.

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