Page 19 of Hard as Stone
Poppy nods. “Yeah, how did you know?”
“Seen them around town lately,” I say carefully, watching her, even as I sink two stripes in quick succession.
“I feel like you know more about this than you’re letting on.”
I straighten, finding her closer than expected. “What makes you say that?”
“The MC is interested in everything that happens in town, right?” Her eyes search mine. “Seems like there’s a story here, and my family is caught in the middle of it.”
“There’s always a story, Poppy.” I move around her to take my next shot, letting my hand brush her hip. “Question is, are you sure you want to hear it?”
She inhales sharply at the contact but doesn’t back away. “Try me.”
I miss my shot, too distracted by her proximity and the dangerous territory this conversation is heading into. When I turn, she’s watching me with those bright, curious eyes that have been haunting my dreams.
“Some other time.” I gesture to the table. “Your shot.”
She studies me for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. Just tell me if my family is mixed up in something dangerous and you can keep your secrets, Road Captain.”
“Tonight isn’t about danger.” I move closer, deliberately invading her space. “Tonight is about you trying to hustle me out of an expensive steak dinner. Speaking of which...” I glance at the table. “I believe it’s still your turn.”
She hesitates, and I can see her weighing whether to push for answers. Before she can, I lean in close, my lips nearly brushing her ear.
“Play the game, Poppy. Some mysteries are better solved on a full stomach.”
She shivers. “Is that your way of admitting I’m going to win?”
“That’s my way of saying focus on what’s in front of you.” I step back, gesturing to the table. “Unless you’re ready to forfeit?”
Poppy’s eyes narrow at my challenge. “Not a chance, Road Captain. Hope you brought your credit card, because I plan on ordering everything on the menu.”
She turns back to the table, her attention back on the game now as she studies her shot. I watch as she sinks ball after ball, her movements precise yet playful. Any talk of city contracts or armed guards is forgotten in the rhythm of the game, replaced now with flirtatious comments and deliberate touches, all calculated to drive me crazy, I’m sure.
I’m hard as stone.
“Eight ball, corner pocket.” She meets my eyes as she calls her shot, that sunrise smile playing at her lips.
The black ball rolls true, dropping into the pocket with a thunk.
“Looks like you’re buying me dinner,” she says, propping her cue against the table.
“Looks like.” I move closer, drawn to her like an idiot wanting to touch a sparking live wire. “But first, I want to show you something.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Is this where you try to get me alone in the parking lot?”
“That a problem?”
Her eyes darken. “Depends what you have in mind.”
I take her hand, ignoring the spark that shoots up my arm at the contact. “Come on, troublemaker. My bike’s outside.”
“Your bike?” She lets me lead her toward the door. “Pretty sure I won the game fair and square. Doesn’t that mean dinner?”
“Trust me.” We step into the cool night air, and I guide her toward where my Harley sits under the streetlight. “This is better than dinner.”
“I don’t know about that. I was really looking forward to that steak.”
I stop beside the bike, turning to face her. “Ever been on the back of a Harley?”
