He knows my name.
Shit.
I don’t know why that sits like lead in my belly—I know a lot of theirs after all—but it does. It so fucking does, and for a long uncomfortable moment, I can’t form words.
He raises one dark eyebrow, and for fuck’s sake, if I can’t even talk to them, how the hell do I expect them to ever let me ride with them?
I sit a little straighter on my bike, which I still haven’t got off yet. It means I’m looking up at Holt, and maybe that’s part of the problem. Pulling on every last ounce of false confidence I can muster, I get off my bike and stand. He’s still got a couple of inches on me, but at least now I’m not craning my neck to see him. “I want to talk to Lynx.”
“Why?”
I don’t want to do this here. Not with everyone watching. I count at least seven people, and none of them look like moving any time soon. Especially not Holt, who’s now staring at me expectantly.
Fuck it.
“I want to join your club.” Wow. That sounded so much better in my head.
There’s about two seconds of stunned silence and then loud mocking laughter breaks out all around me. It’s like being back at school. I wasn’t a fan of being laughed at then and it’s no fucking better now.
Holt doesn’t laugh, though. If anything, his gaze darkens, and I can’t help but take a small step back.
He gives me a very slow, very thorough once-over and I fight the urge to shrink even further. “And why the fuck would you want to do that?”
Go with the truth or lie?
I have about two seconds to make up my mind. Holt doesn’t look like the patient type, and something tells me he’d spot a lie a mile away too.
Truth it is.
I lift my chin, shoulders back. Fake it till you make it. Right?
“I’m good with engines. Cars, bikes, or anything else you need me to do.”
He stares at me, waiting. Not impressed by any of that.
There’s a few sarcastic oohs from the gallery.
I sigh. Might as well lay it all out there. Not like I can embarrass myself more than I already have. “My dad lost our house in a card game, and I have nowhere else to go.”
His eyes widen.
It’s better than no reaction at all, but it’s not exactly a welcome with open arms either.
What were you expecting?
A chance. That’s all I wanted.
“No.”
That wasn’t Holt. Not unless he can suddenly throw his voice.
My gaze snaps behind him to where Lynx Harper now stands in the shadow of the front door to the house. All six-foot-plus glorious inches of him. He takes another step forward into the light.Oh, fuck me, he’s shirtless. How did I not notice that straight away?
Broad and lean, without an ounce of fat on him. Golden skin and ink cover so many muscles I don’t know where to focus on. There’s just so much to look at. Intricate tattoos cover half his chest and shoulder, but I daren’t linger long enough to check out the others.
When I finally manage to drag my gaze upwards, he’s staring at me, brow furrowed. I flush at being so obviously caught checking him out and once again wish I’d listened to Ash.
Then our eyes meet, and just like in the pub, the whole world fades away until it’s just the two of us. And much to my horror, my dick decides to get in on the action. Please god, no. Not now.
