Pulling my hand free, I wiped my palms on the front of my jeans. “Yes. That’s me.”
Then I glanced at the scrape on his bike and winced. “I’m really sorry about hitting your bike. I’ll pay for the damages.”
Like he just remembered I hit it, he looked down and inspected the chipped paint. “Don’t worry about it. Danger can touch it up.”
I had no idea who Danger was, but I sincerely hoped he didn’t live up to the name.
“I gotta…” I pointed vaguely toward my truck, which was hanging halfway out of the parking spot. “Move.”
“Right. Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped aside, though he kept glancing over his shoulder at me with a strange expression on his face.
Mortification burned through me as I climbed back into the truck and very carefully pulled into the spot without destroying any more property.
Jesus.
I was a mess.
When I climbed out again, he was still standing there beside his bike, watching me.
“You okay?” he asked.
The question caught me off guard.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah. Just… distracted.”
His gaze held mine for a second too long, and something low in my belly fluttered. “You sure?”
No.
But I nodded anyway. “I’m sure.”
He didn’t look like he believed me.
Good grief. He was making my brain short-circuit.
Before I could embarrass myself any more, I hurried into the diner.
Fifteen minutes later,with cash for the egg delivery tucked in my pocket, I was driving back toward the farm with my phone pressed between my ear and shoulder.
“Hello?”
“I hit one of the bikers’ motorcycles,” I said as a greeting.
Wren gasped. “Shut up.”
“I wish I was joking.”
“What biker?”
I tightened my grip on the wheel. “Their leader.”
Wren cackled. “You mean the President.”
I groaned. “Whatever.”
“No, no. Not whatever. There’s a hierarchy, babe.”
“Are you seriously correcting my biker terminology right now?”
