Page 7 of Coveted By Cupid

“I sure as hell hope I do. It would be a nice change instead of dealing with some of these royally cranky bastards.”

My wait isn’t long before Buck comes into the waiting area of his shop, handing me my keys. “She’s all good, ready to hit the road again.”

We chat a bit as I pay my bill, talking shop like I used to with my grandpa. I say my goodbyes and head for my bike.

The purr of her engine when I turn my bike over has me sighing with contentment. She sounds good. Grandpa would be pleased with her care.

With my mood lightened, I cruise around the outside of the shop, heading for the exit. It’s then that I see two bikers in leather exit the garage. One biker is so big, he’s built like a damn oak tree. But the other has me nearly stalling my engine.

He’s tall, over six-foot easily, with defined arms and thick muscular thighs filling out his jeans. His hair is dark brown, cut short and wild on top from the wind blowing through it. He has a royale goatee, showing off his sharp jawline. He walks with an air of superiority, not cockiness but confidence.

And speaking of how he walks, you can tell the monster in his jeans is heavy. I fan myself internally, praying my flush isn’t obvious.

Unlike his companion who looks like a gentle giant, this biker looks hardened, like he’s seen some things in his life most wouldn’t survive. He’s at least a decade older than me, handsome and rugged in that red flag kind of way women swoon over, and completely out of my league.

But damn, is he easy to look at, eye candy for days on end.

Maybe it’s the warm sun shining or the fact that I’m in my happy place, riding my bike. Whatever the reason, I’m feeling spicy enough to flirt with danger.

When the biker turns his dark, hard gaze on me, my lips curl with mischief.

What’s the harm in a little flirting? It’s not like I’m in danger of being claimed by some hot as hell biker I’m passing in a parking lot outside a garage.

My infatuation is just that—my own. It’s not like Cupid is going to pop out with his bow and arrow, making this seasoned biker fall for me at first sight.

Without overthinking it, I wink at the tough-looking biker before speeding away in a fit of giggles.

Gosh, that was fun.

For a moment, I don’t feel so lonely, making a memory with a handsome stranger in passing.

I’m smiling to myself, sitting at a stoplight, when I feel a presence pull alongside me. I look to my left, not fully comprehending what I’m seeing before looking straight ahead again.

Wait a second…

I do a double-take, nearly falling off my bike when the handsome biker from the shop is on his hog next to me.

Gone is the sternness from his face, replaced with a small, cocky grin. He’s looking dead at me, letting me know I have his full attention.

The lights change to green, and the car behind us honks when we don’t move. Frazzled, I pull away, following the traffic.

Stopped at the next red light, the biker is still beside me. I dare a peek in his direction. He’s still staring at me, his grin more pronounced.

“Hey, Butterfly,” he says, his voice deep and rough, the kind of voice that makes your insides clench excitedly. “Where you heading?”

I gape, floundering to make words. “I—I⁠—”

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He leans closer, his smile menacing. “That usually happens when I play with mice.”

Oh, my word!

Alarm sirens are going off inside my head, and I can’t think straight for nothing, all because a man—a fucking dangerous man by the looks of him—is flirting with me.

“Use your word, Psyche,” he taunts, chuckling under his breath. “Where are you heading?”

“Home!” I blurt, slapping my palm over my mouth when I realize what I’ve done. You never tell a stranger your destination, not when they can follow you.

I need to get the hell out of here.