“Hey man, you alright?” The guys running the booth seemed nice enough, but it was clear from the look on this one’s face, lingering was going to be a problem.
“I was supposed to meet my girl here.” He explained, checking his wrist. Shit, where was his watch? Oh, right, he’d taken it off when he’d gotten it wet last night.
“What’s she look like?”
Fighting back images of Duchess in the bath, Asher gave her description with little hope. There were many brunettes with blue eyes in the world. “She’s with the Chaos Riders.”
“Ah,” The guy smiled. “Mav’s crew. They haven’t been through for finals yet, but I’ll tell your old lady you stopped by if I see her.”
Right, they definitely didn’t want him sticking around.
“You checked the hotel?” His friend asked.
“Next on my list.” Asher smiled, not wanting to let on he didn’t know where the fuck to go now that his plan of waiting at the cards booth was busted.
“I gotta hand it to Mav,” the other guy chuckled. “He was smart booking for the whole weekend even though he was road tripping. The Marriott’s completely sold out now. Hell, all the close hotels are. I had to get a campsite.” He shook his head. “My old lady wasn’t thrilled with that at first, but she’s having fun now.”
“That’s good to hear.” Asher nodded. “Can I leave my number in case my woman stops by before I see her?”
“Nah, man.” He shook his head. “We have enough to keep up with.”
As if on cue, a group of bikers came up for their cards. Asher thanked the guys, bidding them farewell, hope swelling in his chest again as he pulled out his phone. A Marriott close by. He could work with that.
Unfortunately, there were several Marriott hotels nearby, each with a cutesy name ending with Inn. Asher took a seat at a picnic table, taking some deep breaths while trying to marshal his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to spin out again right now. He needed to think clearly. She was out there somewhere. She had to be.
Clea stretched luxuriously, grateful for the bed. Mav had been right, nothing a hot bath and a little rest couldn’t cure. Well, almost nothing, but she’d focus on what she could control.
Too bad her dreams weren’t one of them.
As though trying to forget Asher wasn’t hard enough.
Her subconscious mind had been serving the blonde Adonis to her while she’d rested, and she’d woken up aroused with no one but herself to do anything about it, which sucked. But, she reminded herself on another stretch, she’d dealt with worse.
Far worse, actually.
Waking up needy wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it was the fact she was all alone that had her frustrated. Which was silly. She’d been alone for a majority of her life. Same stuff, new location, wherever you were, there you were and all that. Blah, blah, blah.
Clea took a deep inhale as she stretched again, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. She still had a few hours before the flat track races and the stunt show. As she contemplated the merits of staying in bed versus roaming the rally grounds, her thoughts drifted back to Asher again, wondering what he was up to, remembering what they’d done…
The knocking on the door had her pulling both hands above the sheet on a curse. She kept up with the cursing as she scrambled out of bed and into a robe. Whoever that was better have a damn good reason for trying to beat down her door. They’d interrupted some quality solo time.
Throwing the door open, she recoiled at the visitor. He took full advantage of her surprise, pushing her back into the room with his bodyguard in tow.
“What do you want, Kluge?” She demanded, ripping herself from his grasp and putting as much space between them as possible.
Shit, how had he found her?
“It’s Kluge,” he corrected.
While she normally got a kick out of that one, Clea didn’t have the mental bandwidth to spare for chuckles right now. The sight of Muscles barring the door brought back memories of being locked in that fucking penthouse.
“You know, stalking is illegal.” At least her voice came out steady. “I’m pretty sure you can get a few years in prison for this.”
“Like that restraining order you filed holds any weight,” he snarked. “When are you going to get it through that pretty little head of yours that the law can’t touch me? You, on the other hand,” His gaze turned dark. “You stole from me, Cookie.”
“No.” She smiled, trying to keep him talking as she urged her brain to think of a way out of there. “I loaned a few of your things to interested parties. There’s a difference.”
Sure, he’d have to buy back his own collection, but he was a billionaire, he could afford it.
