Page 1 of Biker's Babygirl

CHAPTER ONE

Duke

I love motorcycles. I love everything about them. The wind in my face when I ride them, the freedom, the thrill of adventure. I love the fact that a big man like me—six foot five and two-hundred-eighty pounds of pure muscle—can sit on one and feel right at home.

Sometimes my brother teases me that I only chose a career where I could ride a motorcycle to work. He’s wrong, but it’s not a bad perk.

I pull my bike into the parking space and turn off the engine before I take off my helmet. We’ve been riding a long time, and it feels good to stop and stomp some of the dust off. I’ve just put the kickstand down and secured the bike when I see, out of the corner of my eye, my brother pull in three spaces away. Seconds later, Eliana Alton, a doctor on our traveling team, and one of my housemates, pulls her motorcycle into the space next to his.

I wave before slowly making my way toward them. By the time I arrive, they’ve removed their helmets and are dismounting their bikes.

“What, no change of clothes?” I tease Eliana as I approach. She’s wearing the same pants and rumpled t-shirt she wore yesterday while we were delivering prescriptions to our elderly and shut-in patients. She’s normally a stickler for looking neat and clean, so I tease her any chance I get.

She rolls her brown eyes skyward. “You know I don’t change my clothes without a shower first, Duke.”

“Watch it.” I warn her about the eye-rolling, but it’s an idle threat and we both know it. I’ve known Eliana for three years, and while she’s exactly my type—petite, with ample breasts and a rockin’ bod—she’s more like a little sister. In fact, about the only time I’d even consider disciplining her for real would be if she put herself in serious danger.

But she’s much too smart for that.

She grins, her cherry-red lips illuminating a brilliant smile. “Sorry, sir. I forget how much you hate it, sir.”

Smart, but not smart enough not to push all my buttons.

“AndIforgot how snarky you get when you’re tired and hungry,” I reply mildly. “C’mon.” I tip my head toward the diner. “They won’t have a shower, but let’s at least get you fed before you push the wrong guy.”

“Honey,” she practically purrs as she shakes her shapely ass in black leather pants. “Every guy is the wrong guy where I’m concerned. And I’m so desperate to get the stench of the road off, I might talk anotherwrong guyinto letting me bathe in the kitchen sink.”

I raise a brow and look at Shep. Damn, she’s running hot today.What happened?I ask with my eyes.

He shrugs a shoulder, but it’s an irritable jerk.Later, I can read in his gaze.

“Okay, then.” I turn my attention back to Eliana. “I tell you what. The house is just five miles down the road.” I pull thekeys out of my back pocket and dangle them. “If you’re that desperate.”

“Really?” Her eyes widen and I can read her excitement. “Duke, thank youso?—”

But when she reaches for the keys, I pull them higher. “I’m pretty sure you have something to say to me and Shep first?”

She freezes, shooting my brother a narrow-eyed, suspicious stare. When she turns back to me, her expression is equal parts annoyance and awe. “How could youpossiblyknow about that?” she demands, hands on her hips. “You haven’t even had time to talk!”

Huh. Interesting.“Know about what?”

Ellie looks confused now, and afraid to speak, lest she put her foot even deeper in her mouth.

“I meant your bad attitude, Ellie-boo.”

Now those beautiful pouty lips are in a scowl, and she has thrown caution completely to the wind. “Don’tcall me?—”

This is an argument we’ve had a dozen times. And each and every time, I win. But Ellie seems to require the occasional reminder, so I pocket the keys, turn my back to her and start walking. Though I don’t look, I can hear Shep following behind me.

After a few moments, there is a third set of feet, and her pace is fast and loud as she hurries to catch up to us.

Her hand latches onto the back of my arm. “Duke, wait, please. I’m sorry.”

I still, but don’t turn. “Are you?” I ask over my shoulder.

There is a sigh, long and drawn out, then her soft, repentant voice. “I really am. I… I was being a brat. Forgive me?”

I turn around to face her and see her head bent, her wavy, raven black hair spilling like a curtain over her face. “You mean it?” I ask, my voice stern.

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