Page 4 of Silver Fox Daddies

I’m no lawyer, but Idoknow that this book is all about criminal law and the justice system. Interesting.

Gingerly, I take the book from the British biker’s hands. He seems like the unpredictable one out of them all, that sly grin giving me goose bumps.

Tingles run up my spine again as his hands brush over mine.

Was that deliberate, or am I thinking too deep into this?

“Uh, no problem.” I cringe at how delayed my response is, re-swiping the library card to process the return.

Do all three of them shareonelibrary card?

That goes against policy.

I’m in no state to challenge them, though, given that they’re all three times my size.

Double my age too.

I scan the book and mark it returned, wondering what business motorcyclists have reading up on criminal law. Maybe so they know how to escape it?

I flatten the thought since it’s making me more on edge, and get on with the task at hand.

“Okay, that’s all done for you,” I say, moving the book aside.

“Great. We’ll speak to you soon,” says the British one, winking.

Will he?

“Enjoy the rest of your day, sweetheart,” says the gold tooth one.

I’m too flustered to return the comment and instead, just about manage a smile before they turn around and walk out. I can’t help but gawp at their asses as they leave, all of them firm and rounded.

What the fuck has gotten into me?

When the door closes, I blow out the biggest breath and slump into my seat. Only now is it occurring to me how tense I was during the interaction. My heart is still thumping rapidly too.

Swallowing the lump that seems to have formed in my throat, I direct my attention back to my book to resume my study.

Except now, the words don’t make sense.

My heart rateneverspikes when I’m talking to men.

Not even if it’s some of the most popular men on campus.

There’s something about these bikers that’s so intriguing and dark and sensual.

You know what they say. Opposites attract. Maybe it’s that I have no experience and they look like they have lots. Maybe it’s that I don’t have tattoos and they have many of them all over their bodies, or that I’m young and they’re old. I dunno. Whatever it is, it’s enough to distract me from my work.

Exhaling, I stand up and stretch.

That’s when their returned book catches my eyes.

The Devil’s Advocate…

If there’s one thing I’ve learned since working as a librarian, it’s that books tell a lot about a person.

I return to my seat and knock back the hardcover.

A handwritten phone number has been scribbled at the bottom of the index page.

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