“I thought there was a good chance, yes.”
“And Declan Hale?” I demand. “That bastard is too handsome for his own good. Tell me he’s not coming?”
“What about me?” a voice says from the doorway, and I turn to see a pair of blue eyes. Fixed onme.
Shit.He heard that, didn’t he?
My cheeks flush as my gaze meets his, and heat rushes through me, even with twenty feet between us. My words have gone; I can’t speak. He’s in his leathers, his backpack and helmet held easily in one hand, two fingers through the loops of the bag, two more around the chin guard. His jacket is unzipped, showing a black T-shirt tight across his chest, his pecs defined and his stomach flat. I really want to see it without the shirt.
I’m suddenly conscious I’ve been staring at him for far too long, without speaking. When he asked me a question.
Is there drool? Please God let there not be drool.
Shit. I need to leave.
Kurt clears his throat. “Genesis was checking you knew where to come tonight.”
“Yeah, I got your text.” Declan walks in, setting hisbag down next to mine. It sags like it’s mostly empty. “And your drills. But I figured you didn’t actually want them back, worn and all, so I threw them in the river.” He opens the bag and pulls out… a roll of paper towels. Then offers them to Kurt with a sardonic smile.
He doesn’t seem pissed. There’s almost a playfulness in his demeanor. He’s not annoyed, he understands. We didn’t trust him, and heunderstands.
I’m not sure I would, in his position.
“Ah, great,” Kurt says, accepting the bulky roll. “Never have enough of this stuff. It’s so versatile, don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely,” Declan replies, straight-faced. “I prefer the ones with pockets, myself. More absorbent.”
I roll my eyes and head for the door, leaving them to swap Good Housekeeping tips.
“Genesis…”
“Genesis.”
They both say my name, so close they overlap.
I pause, half-turning back. “What?”
Declan slides his hands in his pockets, deferring to Kurt. But his gaze doesn’t leave me.
“I was planning a little party to celebrate,” Kurt says. “You’ll stay, right?”
“No,” I say bluntly, turning away again. “Not in the mood.”
“I’m afraid I can’t either.” Declan’s quick to refuse too, and very polite. “Another time?”
“Very well,” Kurt replies. “You two have fun.”
I’m sure I’ve no idea whatthat’ssupposed to mean.
Declan is following me, and it was him I was trying to avoid. My helmet and gloves go on as I take the stairs, and I’m sitting astride my bike when he walks out after me. Surely he’ll go to his own bike?
But he doesn’t. He stands in front of mine.
“What do you want?” I ask, starting my engine and revving it hard.
“You,” he says, eyes locked on me. I can only half hear him over the noise, but lipreading a single word isn’t difficult.
I edge the bike forward, and he doesn’t move. The front wheel nudges into his knee.
