Page 47

“Hm,” he hums, his eyes trailing halfway down my body before meeting my gaze again. “Okay, keep your secrets, mystery girl.”

“Lennon,” I offer.

Why?

I don’t have a single clue other than some part of me really wants him to know my name.

“Nice to meet you, Lennon,” he says, holding his hand out and I take it. His hand is warm, his skin slightly calloused in some places and it feels… nice. “I’m Dalton. But everyone calls me Rooster.”

I arch a brow. “Rooster?”

“Yeah, you ever heard of the Bayou Devils?” he asks, pointing to his vest where a patch that says just that is sewn on. “It’s my road name.”

Road name.

I’ve heard that term before.

“It’s an MC?”

He nods. “Yep. Right here in Baton Rouge.”

I glance down and realize we’re still holding hands. Clearing my throat, I stand up a little straighter and pull my hand back, offering him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.”

He shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine. “No need to apologize.”

God.

Why does he keep looking at me like that?

And why do I like it so goddamn much?

“I…uh, need to get these dishes back to the kitchen,” I say, fidgeting with the rag in my hand. He just nods.

“No problem.”

I know I should go.

But I can’t yet.

“I hope the other guy looks worse,” I say, pointing to his eye and he grins. Something about that grin screams trouble and a flutter rushes through my belly.

“They always do.”

Good god, do I want to know what that means?

Yes.

Yes, I do.

Grabbing the dishes, I hurry back to the kitchen and set them in the sink before throwing the towel across the room. What in the hell just happened out there? And why did it feel so damn good?

I’m losing it.

This is me officially losing my damn mind.

I just got out of a relationship.