Page 62 of Moonlit Temptation

“Do I need to check in with you before I make a decision inside this office in this company I helped build from the ground up?”

I exhale a breath, my cheeks puffing out slightly. “Of course not—”

“Great,” she interrupts me, resuming her end-of-day organizing. “So then you're going to take this nice young woman home since her car won't be done until tomorrow.”

“I have my bike, Ma.”

“Good thing you live so close then. Go grab your truck,” she deadpans, but I swear to god, her eyes fucking twinkle.

I glance at my son in the small room attached to the office. He's sprawled out on a big bean bag chair we bought just for him, playing with plastic dinosaurs. “But Hunter—”

“Hunter is more than fine with me for another twenty minutes while you take this new customer home. She's new in town, and I told her we'd take care of her.” She looks at me, a single arched brow and mouth pursed into a straight line. “Are you going to make a liar out of me, Silas St. James?”

I run my hand through my hair and grab the back of my neck. “Nah, Ma. I'll take care of it, yeah?”

She beams, a smile so wide you'd think I just told her I'm sending her on some all-expenses-paid cruise, not taking someone home.

“I know you will, honey. Now, go on and get the truck. Let's not keep her waiting.” She practically shoos me out of the room with a flick of her wrist.

“Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later.” I push open the door, still surprised she pulled the middle name card. That shit always works on me.

Which is probably why she does it.

Whatever. I'll just take her home and then wash my hands of the whole fucking thing. Evangeline sounds like the name of one of Ma's bowling club friends.

I shield my eyes from the sun the moment I step outside. Someone to the left calls my name out, and I toss up a hand in greeting. I can't stop, not only because I've been hired out like some courtesy driver, but I see some girl circling around my bike.

Dark hair in some messy knot on the top of her head, cutoff jean shorts, and her white tee tucked into the front. And the loudest pair of fucking boots I've ever seen.

Hot pink with turquoise accent cowboy boots.

Helen's fucking girls are getting bold, I'll give them that. I grit my teeth at the prospect of having to kick another one off property for a while. If they can't follow the rules, then they can't be here. It's that simple.

And everyone knows better than to touch someone's bike. It's like the first fucking rule here. My annoyance ramps up further when she leans over to look at the handlebars.

“Didn't your momma teach you not to touch things that don't belong to you?” I pitch my voice loud enough to carry the ten feet that separate me from my bike.

She flinches, yanking her hand back to her chest quicker than I can track. “Shit, sorry.”

She pushes her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. They're big and black, covering too much of her face. I don't recognize her at all.

“You new here or something?”

“Yep,” she says, rocking on to the back of her heels. “She told me to wait out here.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Helen told you to wait by my bike?”

She cocks her head to the side. “Well, no. Not exactly.”

My patience runs thin and I step closer to her. “You don't touch anyone's bike unless they give you permission. That's the first thing she should've told you the moment you stepped onto the compound.”

She brings her hand up to shield the sun from her eyes as she presumably looks at me. It's then I notice how small she is. Not tiny but not what I would call tall either. She looks like she'd fit perfectly under my arm.

I shake that errant thought away the moment I realize what I was doing.

“Got it?” I press, letting some of my frustration leak into my voice.

Her brows hike above her sunglasses. She pivots on the balls of her feet, looking from left to right. “Sure thing. I was just waiting for—”

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