The scene was set. The backdrop was perfect. A holiday-themed café with twinkling lights in the window. A biker walks in, rescues the girl from an asshole, and then buys her a cup of coffee. I shake my head, half-laughing at myself. If I put it in a book, my readers would devour it. If I told anyone it really happened to me, they’d say I dreamt it.
Who would’ve thought this would happen in real life?
I unlock my car, climb in, and sit for a second before starting the engine. My hands curl around the steering wheel as I recall telling him I’m usually here on Saturdays. He knows where to find me. Now, I have to make sure I’m here every weekend for the foreseeable future. I tell myself that if I never see him again, it’ll be okay. I can always write the ending I want in one of my novels.
Bullshit. It would suck to never see him again.
The ride home is a blur. Images of a tall, sexy biker invade my every thought while I drive through the streets. Finally, I make it to my apartment, and I kick my door shut behind me with my heel. Dropping my bag on the couch, I pull out my laptop and flip it open. The familiar glow of my writing document illuminates the small space. My characters stare back, frozen mid-argument, waiting.
“Well,” I say with a sigh, slipping into my chair. “You’re not going to believe what happened to me today, Scarlett.”
Scarlett, my lead female, is a confident, sharp-tongued, no-nonsense woman who sits, waiting for her story to unfold. I imagine her staring at me, tapping her foot, commanding me toget on with it.“Do tell, Hope. Why are your hands shaking? And is that a blush I see?”
“They aren’t shaking,” I mutter. “Okay, fine. Maybe they are a little.” I run a hand through my hair. “Frost, this tall, sexy, muscular man, with the whole broody biker thing, swoops in and saves me from a creep at the coffee shop. Like something out ofyourbook.”
The lead male, Lachlan, crosses his arms.“So, you’re telling us you ran intoyour own clichétoday?”
“Don’t start with me,” I snap accusingly at him. “He wasn’t a cliché. He was sweet and nice.”
Scarlett snickers, clearly enjoying this.“Nice? Or sexy? Make up your mind.”
I rub my temples in frustration. “Oh my god, both, okay? Happy?”
I’m half-laughing at myself, half-convinced that I’ve lost the last of my sanity. Talking to my characters isn’t weird when I’m plotting, but talking to them about my love life? Yeah, definitely sinking into unhinged behavior. Before I can further defend my life choices, my phone blares to life beside me. BFF Incoming flashes across the screen.
I groan. “If I don’t answer, she’ll assume I’m dead.”
Lachlan smirks at me, the traitor.“Go on. Tell her about your leather knight.”
“You’re such an asshole,” I mutter as I snatch up the phone. “What’s up, girl?”
Amy’s voice explodes through the speaker. “Hope, why do you sound out of breath? What happened? And don’t lie, I felt a disturbance in the force.”
I close my laptop because even though my characters are fictional and can’t see or hear what I’m about to say, I want privacy.
“Okay,” I say, sinking back in my chair. “You’re not going to believe this…”
CHAPTER 4
FROST
“’Bout time you showed your face. I was afraid I set all this up for nothing.”
I jerk my chin and follow Vegas into the underground warehouse that belongs to Saint’s Outlaws MC. I usually don’t skirt this side of the law, but after Mom died, my soul was ripped open, and all the good she instilled in me fell out and rotted on the ground. Now, I’m itching to feel something besides numbness.
Could’ve felt something with a chestnut beauty, but your dumb ass ran away.
Rolling my shoulders, I push Hope out of my mind. The yells and screams of the audience get louder the deeper we go. Typically, a fight would fire me up, but tonight, all I can think about is her. I’ll never forget how Hope looked at me over the rim of her coffee cup, or the way her cheeks flushed when she told me she writes romance novels for a living. Those hypnotic hazel eyes snared me right from the start.
I didn’t want to leave her. Weird, considering I barely know her. But the connection between us was… instant. Then she smiled at me, soft, and grateful. A piece of my frozen heart thawed slightly. I should’ve known then I was done for.
Now I’m here, hands wrapped, gloves half-laced, trying to push her out of my mind before the fight.
Thud.
I’m so out of it, I didn’t even see Vegas lift his arm to whack the back of my head.
“What the fuck, Vegas?” I growl.
