The engine roared to life, and he rode away. I stared after him, annoyance mixing with confusion. Fine. If they wanted to pay for my gas, they could go right ahead. I wasn’t arguing with free gas.
By the time I pulled into my garage again, I was exhausted. I grabbed my groceries and my Diet Coke and headed inside. The moment I stepped through the door, I froze. Something smelled incredible—garlic, butter, something savory.
My entire body went on high alert.
I lived alone. Very alone.
Slowly, I rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead. Hawk stood at my stove, his back facing me, a black t-shirt stretched tightly across his shoulders and back, outlining muscles that definitely did not belong in my very normal kitchen.
For a second, my brain completely shut down. He didn’t even turn around, like he already knew I was there. My irritation exploded instantly.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?”
Calmly, he stirred something in the pan. “Cooking.”
I dropped the grocery bag on the counter with a thud. “How did you get in here?”
His eyes flicked over his shoulder. “The locks sucked.”
My mouth fell open. “You WHAT?”
He nodded toward the kitchen table. “Your new key’s there.”
I followed his gesture. Sure enough, a key sat on the table. Anger surged through me. “You had absolutely no right to come in here unannounced.”
Without looking at me, he turned back to the stove. “You’re welcome.”
“And another thing,” I snapped, my voice rising, “your goons need to stop following me around.”
That made his shoulders tighten slightly. “It’s for your protection.”
I scoffed. “I don’t need your protection.”
His back went rigid. “I’m serious, Hawk,” I continued. “You and your club need to leave me alone.”
The air in the kitchen thickened instantly. “I don’t want you watching my house.”
Silence hung between us, heavy and charged.
“I don’t want bikers pumping my gas.”
More silence.
“And I definitely don’t want you breaking into my house like you own the place.”
The crack of his fist hitting the table made me jump. He spun around, his eyes blazing. “I don’t give a fuck what you want,” he growled. “As long as you’re safe.”
I stepped closer. “Well, that’s not your decision to make.”
His jaw flexed, the tension crackling in the air. “You don’t understand what you started.”
“I punched a creep.”
“You punched a Black Reapers prospect.”
“I don’t care who he is.”
“You should.”
