“You already did.”
“Did what?”
“Sweep me off my feet.”
Locke tucked a wayward blond curl behind my ear. “Then how are you still standing, brother?”
Honestly, I had no idea.
21
LOCKE
Orla’s bike was a Sportster with stripes the same vintage red as her lips. Legend had it that Nash had rebuilt it for her from the inside out and that she rode it with a machete stashed in her saddlebags.
Couldn’t speak for the former, but I happened to know there was no sword anywhere on that hog. She didn’t need one; she had me.
And also a road ban from her brother that wasn’t my job to enforce,thank fuck.
“He took my keys. Can you fucking believe that?”
“Yep.”
“It’s bullshit.”
“Yep.”
Orla slid into the passenger seat of her Toyota. “Are you doing that thing where you agree with my Neanderthal brother but you’re too diplomatic to say so?”
“Little bit.”
“Good job you’re cute.”
Already behind the wheel, the dog that wasn’t my dog harnessed in the back seat, I flashed Orla my best attempt at a winning smile. “If you say so. Where are we going, anyway?”
“Home.”
“Now?” I checked the time. “You’re not staying for dinner?”
“Not unless you have a wicked craving for Cam’s beef mince surprise.”
To be honest, there wasn’t much these cats cooked that I didn’t inhale with pure gratitude, but... “This isn’t about me. I go where you go.”
“There’s still room for democracy and you have the deciding vote.”
“Out of who?”
“Who do you think?” Orla fiddled with the car sound system. She selected a playlist I was ninety-nine per cent sure she and Nash had curated for me, and Michael Kiwanuka filtered out of the speakers, a jam that had Nash written all over it. “Nash wants me to stay put until he’s back to escort us home, but I’m sick of drowning in testosterone. If you want to stay, we stay, but fair warning, I won’t be happy about it.”
“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re already in the car.”
“Hey, I wasn’t born this reasonable.”
Jokes. There was nothing reasonable about her, from her sharp brain to her big heart. Then again, she lived a life that was too often dictated by forces she had no say in. If she wanted to go home and I could get her there safely, that’s where we needed to be. “How serious was Nash about you staying put?”
“You tell me, sugar.”
“Meaning?”
