“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said, staying on my bike.
“What? We need good angles.” He unfolded the tripod and attached his phone, completely unbothered. “I’m going for production value.”
“How long have you been carrying a tripod?”
“Bought it three days ago. When I decided to get serious about posting.”
“I’m keeping my helmet on.” I crossed my arms.
Milo glanced at me, then perked up. “That’s perfect! The guys in the video that inspired me were wearing helmets too. We’ll look mysterious and badass that way.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, then put his helmet back on, giving me a thumbs up.
He was an idiot, but his schemes were a welcome distraction.
“Okay, now look mysterious.” He stepped back to check the frame.
“I’m wearing a full-face helmet with a black visor. How much more mysterious do you want?”
“I don’t know. Lean a little. Like you’re too cool for this place.” He struck a pose that made him look like he’d sprained his back.
“I am too cool for this place.” I shifted my weight, put my hands behind my head, laid back against the pillion, and kicked my feet up on the handlebars like I was ready to nap.
“Perfect!” Milo hit record and jogged over to sit on his bike in a similar position, snapping his visor closed. “Now we wait for the book babes.”
We sat outside Honeybee Books for way too long, watching women leave with their purchases:fancy bookmarks, drinks, and glossy hardcovers. They walked past us without a glance. One even crossed the street when she saw us, pulling her bag closer like we might snatch it.
I couldn’t blame her. We looked like we were casing the joint.
“This is going well,” I deadpanned, slouching deeper against my bike. “We look like thugs. Or psychopaths.” If this video flopped, at least we could grab tacos from that food truck Milo liked before heading home.
The bookstore door swung open again, the little bell above it tinkling faintly. I almost didn’t look up, expecting another woman who would hurry past us like we were invisible. But something made me turn my head.
She stepped out onto the sidewalk, and my throat went dry.
She wasn’t what I’d call hot, not like the overtly sexy women I hooked up with at the biker bars. She was soft—that was the first word that came to mind. Her glossy brown hair was twisted up in a messy bun, and her floral sundress floated around her as she walked, teased by the breeze. She had the kind of curves that would mold against my body, yielding as she pressed against me. My attention snapped to her book. The cover featured a woman sandwiched between two muscular men, their poses making it obvious the book was smut. But this girl didn’t look like someone who’d read something so filthy. Her round glasses and the pencil stuck through her bun gave her a geeky, innocent look that made the book choice seem incongruous.
“Holy shit.” Milo lowered his voice so only I could hear. “That right there is the dream, man. Nerdy hot book babe with actual book porn. Jackpot.”
I snorted, not wanting to admit I was thinking the same thing. But I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She shifted, trying to balance her book while digging through her bag. The pencil in her bun was slipping. She reached up to shove it back in, only succeeding in loosening the whole thing. Her hair cascaded down around her shoulders, shiny and wavy and fucking perfect.
I swallowed hard. It was just hair. But something about the absent-minded, unselfconscious way she shook it out drew me in.
She ran her fingers through her hair once, twice, gathering it back up. I tracked the motion of her hands, the way a few strands escaped to frame her face, the small frown of concentration that creased her forehead.
“Fuck, she’s like a walking shampoo commercial. Sexy,” Milo said.
I didn’t answer because she glanced our way. Maybe she’d heard Milo’s whisper or just registered our presence. Either way, her eyes passed over us with mild curiosity.
Our gazes connected through my helmet visor, and heat flickered in my core, low and insistent.
The moment lasted only seconds before she looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She slipped the book into her bag, readjusted her glasses, and continued down thesidewalk as if she hadn’t just shaken my world. Her steps were unhurried and distracted. She opened her book and started reading as she walked.
“Wonder what that book was.”
“Who knows.” That was a lie. The cover image was burned into my memory: two men and one woman. The cute, wholesome girl who looked like she’d stepped out of a sweet small town romance was reading about a girl getting double-teamed.
Chapter 2
