Page 81 of Wild Ride

“I wish I could do something like that, decorate cakes. It’s fascinating to me.”

Her eyes widen, and she leans forward slightly. I can’t help but smile even bigger as I watch her excitement grow. I’mnot sure what she’s excited about, but her body almost starts physically buzzing as she watches me, her eyes searching mine.

“Would you take an intro to decorating class and come work for me?”

I blink. Not because I don’t want to do it. Honestly, it sounds amazing. But she doesn’t really know me, yet she’s asking me to work for her. Also, she knows that I’m ready to blow this town with two middle fingers in the air and never look back.

She wants to keep me here.

Why?

She also knows that I have a job. Realistically, I could do both because I am not only caught up, but I’m also ahead when it comes to my work, so I would technically have availability. I’m just not sure if I’ll be here for longer than a few more hours.

I start to tell her just that when the door flies open. Whipping my head around, I find Bishop storming through the door. He stops directly in front of the pastry case, but he’s not looking at any sweets.

He’s looking directly at me.

So directly at me that I don’t think anything else exists. At least to me it doesn’t, because everything disappears and my body takes over, my brain shuts down, and I’m exactly where I was yesterday.

But then, as if my brain shocks my body, my back straightens, and I remember everything again as if I’m watching that woman suck him off for the first time. The images enter my mind, the sounds of his groans, and the feeling of my heart not only breaking but cracking all over again.

“Bishop,” I breathe.

There is movement beside me, and I assume that Lainey has shifted away from my side, but I can’t look over and check. I am far too focused on this man and the way he’s looking at me, into me, down to my soul, to see anything else.

“Dakota,” he states.

I want to tell him to fuck off. I want to scream and shout in his face. I want to turn around and run as fast and far as I can. I want to do a lot of things, but I am helplessly frozen where I stand, as much as I hate that and hate myself for it all at the same time.

He takes a step forward, then another. I watch as he closes the distance between us, but as soon as he’s close enough to touch me, my feet decide to move. I shuffle backward a few steps as he stalks toward me.

I open my mouth and start to tell him to back away, to go away, to get away. But I don’t because the words won’t come out, and the moment my back hits the wall behind me, I know those words are useless.

“You’re getting on the back of my bike and coming with me.”

“Where?” I ask, careful not to raise my voice.

He’s only inches from me now. His face is so close to mine that I can feel his warm breath wash over me, and it should absolutely not be as sexy as it is. There’s no need to shout or scream, although I want to because I’m a mixture of hurt and anger rolled into a combustible ball.

He dips his chin, shifting his face closer to me, and my whole body freezes the moment he runs his nose alongside mine. My lips part, expecting him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he straightens slightly, shifts back, his gaze searches mine, and then he clears his throat.

“Home,” he says.

I want to lift my hands between us, ball them into fists, and beat on his chest. I want to tell him that he ruined what could have been a home for us. He did all this, and for what? For that hooker to suck his dick?

What. The. Hell.

I say none of those things, mainly because the moment I open my mouth to say them, I hear a throat clear from beside us, and standing there with her judgment-filled gaze is Briana. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her hip popped out, and her eyes narrowed. Her expression clearly shows just how she’s feeling—which is pissed off, judgy, and victorious all at the same time.

BULLET

I knew that bitch couldn’t stand it. I fucking knew it. She just had to walk her ass in here and insert herself into our situation. Fuck me. I don’t know if I’m going to last all the way to Oregon before I off her.

Instead of allowing her even a moment to speak, I bend slightly, shove my shoulder in Dakota’s stomach, and stand, draping her over my body. Thankfully, this puts Briana into a shocked, silent state. I’m able to get out of the bakery with Dakota on the back of my bike and the engine roaring to life before she emerges from her surprise.

Same goes for Dakota.

The moment the bike rolls forward, her arms wrap around me, and her hands grip the front of my shirt before I ease completely out into traffic and take off.

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