Page 19 of Riding Hard

No phone and she doesn’t want to go home. This is not your everyday situation.

I should ignore the urge to fix all of her problems. I have plenty of my own. That said, the next words out of my mouth are, “Get back on.”

Her brows wrinkle. “What?Why?”

“I live twenty minutes away. Come over, get dry, and you can use my phone.”

Her small hand twists at her soaking wet hair. “That’s weird. I’m smart enough to know stranger danger when I see it.”

I chuckle. “I have some things to take care of. I’ll drop you off at my cabin and head over to the meeting I have. You’ll have the place to yourself for a couple of hours. You can make your calls, warm yourself up, and put something dry on.”

“And you’re not worried about leaving some drifter alone in your house while you’re gone? I could steal all your stuff and sell it for cash before you even get back.”

I laugh. “Well, you won’t be making much. I have some solid wood furniture that I’m not sure you could lift and a few odds and ends. You’d make five hundred bucks at most.”

She smiles sweetly and looks toward the busy diner before walking toward me. “I’ll bet you do this with all the hitchhikers you pick up. You’ve probably got a mountain dungeon full of unsuspecting girls.”

I nod. “And they will be so happy to meet you. It’s been a while since I’ve brought home a new friend.”

Millie climbs onto the back of the bike and wraps against me once again. Either I’m helping a woman out or I’m being dragged into her drama. Either way, I want her to hold me tighter.

Chapter Two

Millie

Gunner is a giant. Big, tall, wide, and his hands are the size of my head. I’m surprised they make bikes big enough for him. His heavy boots hit the gravel driveway with zero grace. I should be afraid of him. Not only is he huge, but I’m not sure he’s cracked a genuine smile since I met him. Men like that are bad news.

My life is hard enough as it is. I don’t need to add another bad decision on top of my already heaping pile. That said, if I’m tossing gasoline on the rest of them, why not take a chance on a sexy biker? Worst case, he’s ash with the rest of my problems.

“There are towels on the sink for you.” His voice is deep and rough, like he’s chewed up some rocks. “I’ll leave my phone on the table. It’s unlocked. Help yourself to whatever else you need. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, and I’ll take you wherever it is you need to go.”

“You’re going to take me to San Diego?”

He stares at me as though he’s waiting for my laughter to signify the joke I’ve made.

“I’m kidding.” I tap him on the shoulder. “You’ve helped me more than enough. I’ll get someone to wire me some money and I’ll be back in my car in no time.”

He nods, though I see he’s contemplating questions. I’m grateful he doesn’t ask. The truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no friends, no family, no money, no job, no prospects, and so far, my adult life has been one huge mistake after the next. A hot shower is the first break I’ve had in months.

Maybe the grump isn’t as bad as I thought.

“Good luck with your meeting thing.” I stand in the hallway of his cabin, dripping water onto the stained wood floor. “I’ll clean all this up. Don’t worry.”

He hesitates and I wonder if he really thinks I’m going to sell all of his things, or if I’ve ruined the floor. When he said he had nothing, that was kind of a lie. His cabin is hand-built from the floor to the roof, with custom bookshelves, a natural stone fireplace, and high-end furnishings. On the shelves sit antique cameras, vintage books, and some old-fashioned farm or kitchen equipment I’ve never seen before. I’d bet all of this would bring in some decent cash. Though, I’d never think of selling it. I’m thankful for his help, and if anything, I want to go out of my way to show him that.

“Please be here when I get back.” He swipes his hand down over his beard. “That was weird. If you need to leave, then leave. You’re not my captor. I just want to see you again, is all.”

I can’t help but smile. I don’t remember the last time someone wanted me to stay. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

He nods a few times, and twists at his watch, hesitating in place as though he isn’t sure what to do with himself. “Anyway, that’s good. We’ll have dinner and discuss what happens next.”

I nod and stare toward him like a deer in headlights, but I have a feeling the awkward bubbles in my stomach are there for different reasons than his. He’s leaving a stranger in his house. I’m crushing hard on the giant man that doesn’t want me to leave.

It’s probably emotional. My entire life I’ve been traded away. It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to figure that I’d glom onto the first person who showed interest in me. Though, that doesn’t excuse the sexual attraction I had for him the second he pulled over to help me. I guess I could explain that away, too. The man rescued me off the side of the road, gave me the coat off his back, and rode me into town on a motorcycle. I guess that would check a lot of women’s boxes.

When the front door closes, I let out a giant sigh of relief, and tip toe toward the shower. Though the cabin is rustic, the shower is what I’d call modern. Dark blue tile lines the walls and a glass-enclosed shower gives way to a waterfall showerhead. I remember seeing these things on late night shopping networks. People would call in and rave about how water falling from the top of the shower versus the side wall changed their lives.

I guess I’m about to find out.

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