by Emma Slate
He didn’t reply, and continued to hold me.
Fine. If Colt didn’t care that I wore pajamas and looked like a street orphan, then I wouldn’t worry about it either.
Lies.
The sooner I got cleaned up the better. I wanted to be ready when Zip returned—hopefully with my truck keys in hand—and then I would leave town.
Colt walked inside. The unmistakable smell of bacon and coffee teased my nose. Though I’d just eaten, my stomach growled. There was a rumble against my back and it took me a moment to realize it was Colt laughing.
I enjoyed the sound far more than I should have.
“Prez.” A scruffy blond man with gray eyes greeted Colt before turning his attention to me. “Is it adopt a lady-in-distress day?”
I snorted in amusement and put a hand to my head in fake torment. The blond man winked at me flirtatiously.
“Enough,” Colt snapped. “Fix her a plate of food and bring it to my room.”
“Your room?” I asked in surprise.
Colt ignored me as he went on, “Tell Joni where we are when she gets here.”
“Why does she need to see Joni?” Flirty asked.
“Look at her wrist,” Colt stated. Flirty’s gaze dropped to my arm, which I held up to show him. Colt wasted no more time and carried me through the clubhouse, past the brown leather couches and the kitchen. The place was clean, but it definitely looked lived-in.
Colt traveled down a long hallway and pushed open the door to a room that was small yet uncluttered. The bed was made, the gray walls were devoid of posters or photos, and the gray carpet was unsullied.
He stalked to the bathroom and deposited me onto the closed toilet so I could use it as a seat. Colt then went to the tub and turned on the water. Without looking at me, he commanded, “Take off your pants.”
“In your dreams, dude.”
He looked at me over his shoulder and grinned.
Holy. Hell.
I thought the man was dangerous when he was scowling? That smile had enough power to light up a city.
“Your feet need cleaning,” he reminded me.
“So I’ll roll up my pajama pants.”
“It’s not just your feet that need cleaning. Have you looked in a mirror?”
“Well, take me, sailor, you know just what to say to a girl.” I glowered but stood up and pointed to the door.
Colt rose and came toward me, crowding my space, but not in a way that was intimidating.
Sensual.
I was breathless, air trapped in my lungs.
Humor lurked at the corners of his lips. “Just shout if you need help. I promise to be gentle.”
Chapter 4
Colt’s humor had thrown me for yet another loop. I’d seen him stoic, broody, and now teasing and blatantly sexual.
Shaking away thoughts of the surly biker, I looked in the mirror.
Big mistake.
Scratches covered my cheeks and dirt smudged my pale skin. My brown hair was a tangled mess, and I looked less lady-in-distress and more street urchin.
Pulling myself away from my terrifying reflection, I went over to the tub and turned off the water. I sat on the edge and moved to roll up my pajama pants, forgetting about my injured wrist.
“Son of a bitch!” I cursed, closing my eyes in pain as tears formed. When the throbbing in my wrist lessened, I scrunched up my pajama bottoms, using only my good hand, and then eased my feet in the warm bath water. They stung, and I gritted my teeth as I reached for the soap. I tried to brace myself, but my control was precarious. Losing my balance, I fell into the tub, hitting elbows and knees. Before I could even yell for aid, the bathroom door opened and Colt loomed in the doorway.
“Jesus Christ, woman,” he muttered, coming toward me.
I was fighting tears, and when I looked up at him, it was through watery eyes and a curtain of drenched hair. “I think I need help.”
“No shit,” he said in wry amusement and leaned over to help me out of the tub.
“Are there any women here who could help me?”
“Nope. It’s me or no help at all. It’s nothin’ I haven’t seen before, darlin’.
“I don’t even know you.”
“That didn’t stop you from approaching me at Dive Bar.”
I sighed. “That was out of necessity.”
“And this isn’t necessity? You nearly drowned yourself trying to save your pride.”
“Why does it seem like there are different versions of you? I’m not sure which one I’m getting right now.”
“Explain.”
“Do you always speak in one word commands?”
“Usually.”
I rolled my eyes. “When I asked you to help me get rid of the guy at the bar, you kissed me.”
“I remember.”
“Then I saw you in the alleyway…”
“Yeah. And? Were you scared of me?”
I thought for a moment. “At first, but then you explained what was going on and…”
“And?” he prodded.
“When I realized why you were fighting I wasn’t scared anymore. And when you touched me, you were gentle.”
“I don’t hurt women.”
“Why were you so mad when you saw me this morning on your steps?”
“I thought someone beat you.”
Warmth curled through me, but I shoved it aside. “Now you’re being kind to me. Why?”
“Seems like you need it. Are you done busting my chops?”
“I guess so.”
“Arms up.”
“No.” I stated. “I’m not wearing a bra.”
His smile was slow. “Yeah. I know.”
“Bite me.”
“Don’t tempt me, babe.”
“Don’t babe me. And the pajama tank stays on.”
“Fine. Put your hand on my shoulder,” he commanded, playing with the drawstring of my pajama pants. I placed my good hand on him to keep my balance. My gaze found a spot on the far wall while he slid my pants down over my legs. I stepped out of them, clad in nothing but black, serviceable underwear.
Granny panties.
I wanted to die of embarrassment.
“Hmmm.”
“Don’t,” I warned. “Just don’t.”
His smile was full of laughter and teasing as he stood up straight. Colt’s hands went to my hips and a spear of heat went through me.
Unexpected.
Unwelcome.
Sort of.
“Sit on the edge of the tub. Stick your feet in the water and try not to fall in this time.”
“Where are you going?” I asked him when he moved away, taking his smile and warmth with him.
“Getting a washcloth.”
“Oh.”
He didn’t go far, just to a narrow linen closet to pull out a green washcloth and a big matching towel. After setting the towel on the sink, he came back to the tub. He kneeled and dunked the washcloth into the tepid water.
“Give me your foot.”
I awkwardly swung around and set a tender, scraped foot onto his knee. I marveled at his caress. For such a large man, a rough biker, it was completely surprising. He cleaned my foot and then gestured for the other. Just as he was finishing up, there was a knock on the bathroom door and then a female head popped in.
I frowned. Colt had said there were no women here to help me. Had he lied?
“Hi,” she greeted with a smile, her eyes darting between Colt and me.
“Hey.” Colt’s answering grin was easy when he looked at her, and useless jealousy blasted through my stomach.
“Clear out,” she commanded. “Let me get a look at the patient.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Colt gently set my foot down and then stood.
“Thanks for your help,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling shy. He nodded and dipped out of the bathroom, leaving me with the unknown woman.
“I’m Joni,” she introduced. “Colt got you out of your clothes already, huh?” Her blue e
yes were teasing. She wore indigo scrubs with a pink heart pattern all over them and her sorrel brown hair was pulled into a perky ponytail.
“What?” I asked.
“Just giving you a hard time,” Joni said. “Let me see your wrist.” She examined my swollen appendage, and when she grazed the bones on the outside of my wrist, I saw stars and scrunched my eyes closed in anguish.
“Ah, sugar, I’m sorry. I can wrap it now, but you need an X-ray. I think it’s probably just a bad sprain, but it could be broken based on the pain you’re feeling.”
“Damn,” I muttered.
“Have you taken anything for the pain yet?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Idiot,” Joni stated. “Colt—not you. Give me a minute to find some Tylenol. You should ice it immediately.”
She left me in the bathroom for a few minutes and then came back with a glass of water, four pills, and a bag of mixed frozen vegetables.
I swallowed the pills and then gave her my wrist. She was gentle as she wrapped it, crooning words of encouragement. When she was finished, she set my hand in my lap, covering it with the frozen veggies.
“Let me take a look at your feet. Jeez, what are you, a size six?”
“Five,” I corrected.
She shook her head. “I’m a size nine.” She set my right foot down. “You should stay off your feet, but you didn’t cut yourself deep. They will heal in a few days. Colt washed them with soap?”
“Yeah.”
Joni helped me out of the bathroom and into Colt’s room. She made me sit on the bed and then with great authority, opened a drawer of Colt’s dresser. Pulling out a pair of his navy boxers, she looked over her shoulder at me.
“Here,” she said. “You can wear these for now. I’ll throw your pajama bottoms in the wash for you.”
“Ah, thanks.” I pulled on the boxers, relieved that I wouldn’t have to parade around in my underwear. “You know your way around here…”
“I’m Colt’s sister,” she explained with a wide smile.
There was no mistaking the curl of relief that settled low in my belly.
Huh.
“Oh, I don’t—I didn’t think—”
Her grin intensified. “Yeah, you were thinking something about me, but you were too polite to ask. You rest now. I’ll go get you a plate of food.”
She shut the door behind her and I was alone on a surprisingly comfortable bed that begged me to take a nap.
A few minutes later, Joni returned with a plate of steaming food and a mug of hot coffee. My mouth watered. The fast food sandwich had been nothing more than a gut plug.
“Eat,” she commanded.
“You know, you don’t look a thing like your brother, but you have the same domineering personality,” I said as I dutifully lifted a bite of scrambled eggs toward my mouth.
She smiled. “Noticed that already, did you?”
“Maybe.”
“I look like our mom. Colt looks like our dad,” she said, explaining away their lack of resemblance.
I ate while Joni kept up a steady stream of chatter about her nursing job at the hospital. I didn’t have to contribute to the conversation, which was nice.
“So…you asked him to help you get rid of a jerk giving you a hard time at your work?” Her blue eyes were wide with curiosity.
The fork stopped halfway to my mouth. “How did you know that?”
“Zip told me.” She grinned, but then her smile slipped. “Zip said you also saw Colt fighting.”
I nodded. “It was—I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“My brother is crazy protective of women.”
“I’m glad he and Zip were there and prevented something really bad from happening to that woman.”
“Seems like good fortune, doesn’t it?”
“Very. They’re like leather-wearing guardian angels.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” She laughed. “So tell me something… My brother was smiling when he left the bathroom. That’s very unlike Colt. What did you say to him?”
“He wanted to take off my pants; I told him in his dreams. Unfortunately, I nearly drowned trying to take care of myself, so I needed his help and he got to take them off anyway. I think he enjoyed the show.”
She chuckled. “Keep giving him grief. He needs it.”
I didn’t want to tell her I wouldn’t be around to give her brother grief, but decided to keep it to myself.
I wondered why the thought depressed me.
After I ate, dressed, and had a cup of coffee, Colt drove me to the hospital where Joni worked. Awkwardly explaining to her that I didn’t have medical insurance was embarrassing, to say the least. She dismissed my statement with a wave of her hand and told me not to worry about it. I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I did have pride. Charity was charity, right? Still, I needed to know how badly I’d messed up my wrist and there was no amount of pride that would get in the way of that.
The X-ray confirmed I had a hairline fracture. It was an injury that would heal, but it would take close to six weeks and I’d have to wear a cast. I was also advised not to drive.
“Color preference?” Joni asked. “For your cast.”
“Oh. Purple, I guess.”
Forty-five minutes later, Colt drove me back to the clubhouse. He didn’t say a word and I kept my gaze on my injured wrist, feeling trapped, defeated, and generally pathetic.
I took a seat on the couch and rested my head against the back cushion. Zip came down the long hall, shrugging in to his leather vest. Colt sat in one of the recliners and Zip gave him a chin nod in the way of a greeting and then went to pour himself a cup of coffee.
“There’s an Iron Horsemen prospect camped out in your house,” Zip said as he took a seat in the other recliner across the coffee table, facing Colt.
I looked up at him. “So that means…”
“Couldn’t get your stuff. Couldn’t get your keys or your truck.”
“So then I’m stuck.”
Stuck in town. Stuck wearing the same clothes. Stuck without access to my bank account.
What the hell was I going to do? I had no money, no ID. I couldn’t drive even if I’d had my truck due to my stupid wrist. I didn’t have a safe place to stay—I wasn’t going to ask if I could crash with Shelly and Mark.
“Mia? Mia!”
“Huh?” I looked at Zip and then at Colt. “Sorry. I zoned out. What did you say?”
“I was askin’ if your wrist is hurting,” Colt growled.
He was back to surly—his general MO. I’d realized that at the hospital when he told me to sit my ass down and wait while he went to find us coffee. He grumbled as he took care of me, but he did take care of me.
“Yeah, it hurts a bit,” I admitted.
“I got it. I’ll grab you the Tylenol and a glass of water,” Zip said, getting up.
“Thanks.”
“You got a prescription for something stronger,” Colt reminded me. “I can get one of the boys to fill it.”
“No thanks,” I said. “Never touch the strong stuff. I like to stay in control.”
Colt peered at me with intelligent brown eyes. “I respect that,” he said softly. “What are you thinkin’?”
I shrugged.
“That’s not an answer. Talk to me.”
I bristled at his command and glared at him. “You know the saying you catch more flies with honey?”
“You catch more flies with shit.”
I blinked. “Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?”
He sighed like I exhausted him.
“Where am I supposed to stay?” I blurted out. “I can’t go home, obviously.”
Colt stood, looming over me, his usual scowl in place.
“Don’t look at me that way,” I seethed. “I have the right to be upset.”
His face softened. “Mia—”
“I’ve got nothing, Colt.” The anger vanished from my tone as suddenly
as it had come. Fury was exhausting, and I didn’t have the energy to waste on it. “I don’t have access to my bank account. I don’t have my driver’s license. Christ, I don’t even have my own clothes and there’s some strange man in my fucking house.”
After a moment, he said, “You’ll stay here.”
“Here?”
He nodded. “The clubhouse. You can crash in my room.”
I frowned. “With you?”
“I don’t live at the clubhouse, Mia. I have a house.”
“Then why do you have a room here?”
“It’s a place to crash after the parties. I don’t always want to drive home at four in the morning.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Colt shook his head. “Look, you’re shit out of luck right now. Even if you had your truck, you can’t drive yet. Your only option is to stay here.”
“That’s not the only option. I can stay with a friend—”
Colt interrupted, “Right now you’re a burden, and anyone you stay with is going to be put at risk.”
“You’re an ass,” I snapped even though I’d already gone through the same logic in my head and come to the exact same conclusion.
“No, I just tell it like it is. Besides, why wouldn’t you stay here? We’ve got the space.”
“Maybe because I don’t feel entirely welcome. What did you call me? A burden?”
“Jesus, woman.” Colt ran a hand through his dark hair in obvious frustration. “I’m trying to help you out and—”
“I don’t need your help, you arrogant—”
“She can’t stay here,” Zip interrupted as he walked back into the living room holding a glass of water in one hand and a few pills in the other.
I jumped, having completely forgotten he was in the same room and witnessing my argument with Colt. My cheeks heated in embarrassment at my behavior. Colt was turning me into an angry shrew.
“Why not?” Colt demanded with a glare at Zip.
“You said it yourself—the clubhouse is a place to crash after parties. And you know how wild they get. Wild is a tame word for it, actually.” Zip grinned. “Nice girls like Mia don’t belong at our parties. She can stay with me.”
“Like hell she will,” Colt boomed.
My gaze bounced back and forth between the two men. Zip was smiling, relaxed, while Colt looked like he wanted to pummel Zip into the ground.
