Chapter 8 The fire alarm had been beeping the last time I was at her house. That was my excuse to go see her. I didn't want her house burning down. I came out of the store with batteries in one hand and a case of fake bottled coffee-full of sugar she didn't need, but I'd seen them in her fridge-in the other. I tossed the drink into the passenger seat and threw the batteries in next. Then I just sat there in the driver's seat. The engine was running. The air was low. I was trying to convince myself not to go to her place. I grabbed my phone. Alessia had already texted twice. Can you meet me today at the farmers market? They've got that lemon soap you like. I didn't respond. I didn't like that fucking lemon soap. I didn't want to go to some fucking farmers market and stand there holding bags of organic shit while she chatted with vendors about free-range eggs and gluten-free bread. I put the truck in drive and headed toward the interstate-toward Maya. Five minutes in, I U-turned hard enough to scrape my rims. Fuck this. I was going home. I needed to stop myself, because I already knew what this was turning into-and it wasn't going to end well. Maya and I were tainted by the tides- wrong time, wrong lives, too much standing between us. But I wanted her anyway. Wanted her in ways I didn't even have words for. She made me forget about responsibility, about promises I never wanted to make. I'd been thinking constantly about the night she used me-and didn't even pretend it was anything else. We fell asleep on the sofa sometime after finishing a strawberry milkshake together. I woke up with her head on my lap. I watched her for longer than I'll admit. She slept like a wild thing. Tossing, mumbling, drooling-her hand flat on my chest, like she was holding me in place even while she dreamed. Hair everywhere. Lips parted. No guard up. Watching her made me feel like a thief. I could never openly admit the visceral emotions she stirred in me-and she deserved to know. Deserved to feel wanted out loud, not just in those quiet moments when no one was watching. I hit the brakes, took the next exit, and looped back. I was going anyway, because the thought of not seeing her today made my chest ache. I had too much shit on my plate, I thought, as I parked outside her little shack and got out of the car. She opened the door before I could knock-wearing a soft pink robe. One eyebrow arched. A smirk on her face. "Back so soon?" I held up the batteries and coffee. "The fire alarm was beeping last time." She glanced back at the damn thing. It was silent now. Then she looked at me again, leaning on the doorframe. "You drove all the way over here to give me batteries and the coffee my fridge is already full of?" I smirked. Didn't answer. Didn't know what to say. She stepped forward slowly, then reached for me without warning. Her arms wrapped around my waist, face pressing against my neck. "Thank you," she whispered, her lips grazing my skin. "That was sweet of you." My jaw clenched as her mouth brushed my Adam's apple. Her body was soft against mine. Warm. Bare skin peeking out from beneath the robe. I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her back. Felt the tension bleed out of my muscles. She started wiggling in my arms. I tightened my grip. "You're going to smother me." She laughed. I let go. She pulled back just enough to look at me. Then she kissed my Adam's apple-light, but firm enough that I felt it in my spine. Her hands slid under my shirt, resting against my stomach. Her nails scraped lightly across my abs. I wanted to purr like a lion. "Tell me why you really came," she whispered. I couldn't. Because I didn't fucking know how to. I didn't say anything. She rolled her eyes. "Okay, keep your secrets." She stepped aside. I walked in. My heart was pounding. She stood behind me for a second, watching. "Did you play football, Mr. Mercier?" Her fingers brushed my arm as she passed, distracting me from answering. "You look like you did. The simple jeans, the shirt-I like that better than the stuffy suit." Then she changed the subject before I could say anything. "I was heading out," she said. "You should come. I could use your big truck, boss." I should've said no. Should've walked out, gotten in my car, and driven straight to Alessia. Instead, I nodded. Her smile widened, and she clapped her hands. "Give me five minutes to get dressed." She came back out in a white sundress and combat boots. The place she brought me to was sketchy as hell. A warehouse lot, with a couple of bikes lined up half-assed. One stood out. Red. Sleek. Looked fast. The guy who met us looked just as sketchy-dirty nails, greasy hair. Maya walked straight to him. "Can I test drive the Kawasaki?" "Of course." He smiled at her, but his eyes flicked to me as he walked her over. She threw a leg over it. I scanned the bike. At first glance, it looked fine. But something was off. Maya was already on it, fingers curling around the grips like she'd been waiting for this her whole life. I stepped closer, eyes scanning the frame. The seller gave me a nervous smile. His hands fluttered, like he was trying to distract me. I caught it in seconds-the engine casing had been welded shut. No way to check the internals without cutting it open. I looked for a VIN stamp. There wasn't one. The bike was either stolen-or worse-a Frankenstein job. I grabbed Maya by the waist and hauled her off before she could kick-start it. "What the hell?" she snapped. I didn't answer. Just turned to the seller and slammed him against the nearest wall. "You're selling fucking trash." His eyes went wide. "I don't know what you're-" I twisted his arm behind his back until he whimpered. "Tell her what's wrong." He swallowed hard. "Okay, okay! The engine's from a wreck. Frame's legit, but the guts are-look, it'll run for a few weeks before it seizes, okay?" Maya's face fell. "Are you serious?" I shoved the guy away. He scrambled off, muttering curses, and disappeared behind one of the warehouses. She kicked the bike once, then again, until it tipped over. "Goddammit. I really wanted this. I need transportation." "You don't need it bad enough to jump on. You could've died," I snapped. "You didn't even look at it before throwing a leg over. What the fuck is wrong with you?" I was being irrational-but she could've gotten hurt. She threw her hands up. "I did look at it!" "You didn't. I was right there. And if you did, in the three seconds before mounting it? Then why didn't you see the welds? The fucking missing VIN?" "I don't know shit about bikes, alright? I just want to rid-" "That's exactly the problem, Maya." My voice came out colder than I meant. "You don't know, so you ask. You don't just-" "Shut up," she shouted, flipping me off. Then she turned and stormed back to the truck. I stood there for a second, the anger still hot under my skin. Then the guilt crept in. I'd been too harsh. By the time I got to the car, she was already in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring straight ahead. "Maya-" "Take me home," she said, voice flat. I clenched my jaw. Started the engine. The silence between us was thick enough to choke on. I passed her exit. She snapped around to look at me. "Where are we going? I said take me home." "Shut up, Maya." "Mean ass," she muttered, then slammed back into the seat. I sighed, knuckles turning white from how tight I was gripping the wheel. This woman was going to drive me to drink. Five-year-old Annie, who can understand animals, saved Landon Hawthorne, a wealthy businessman, from suicide. Now she's his whole world and he's her legal cheat-code against every villain fate throws ...