Page 15 of Biker's Babygirl

When we come into the dining room, I’m surprised to see that the table is set for five and the girl that had helped me earlier, Ellie, is there along with the two men from the woods.

They are so engrossed in their conversation and easy banter that no one notices me until I sit down. Then I feel a curious stare or two, but nothing more.

“I made burgers,” Duke says as he sits across from me. “You need protein for healing.”

“You cook, too?” I ask, surprised. Lucas had no skills other than being a disgusting person, and he always had staff to do everything for him. Duke, it seems, is multi-talented.

Immediately, one of the men snorts. “Cooking is just one of the old man’s many talents. Of course, the real cook is Elvis here.” The speaker claps the other man at the table on the shoulder.

Elvis, huh?I scrutinize the man. He’s young, probably not too much older than I am. And he’s handsome with golden-blonde hair that goes down to his neck, and hazel eyes. He doesn’t look anything like the King of Rock.

“Why do they call you that?” I ask, unable to stop myself. I’m unfailingly curious, which has always been my worst quality.

The table goes silent and all attention turns to the man in question who is casually sipping his water, either unaware of all the eyes on him, or used to it. Finally, he sets it down and regards his audience, his expression somber.

Then, his lip goes upward in a snarl, and he strikes a pose with his arms jutted out in front of him and an “Uh-huh!” he’s clearly practiced.

I burst out laughing. It’s so ridiculous, I can’t help myself. My laughter seems to set off a chain reaction, and soon everyone is laughing.

Even “Elvis” has a grin on his face.

“Fine!” I pick up the burger on the plate in front of me and take a bite. “Don’t tell me!” From that first bite, I’m overwhelmed by the delicious taste of the juicy beef and the crunch of crispy lettuce. Suddenly, I remember that I haven’t eaten a proper meal in days, and I turn all my attention to satisfying the pit in my stomach that threatens to overwhelm me.

No one seems to notice as conversation and laughter swirls around the table naturally. It’s a warm, comforting environment, and by the time I push away my empty plate, I realize I feel safe for the first time in a long, long while.

“So, Jessica…”

For just a second, I forget I gave a fake name, but I manage to play it off by drinking my water. Then I turn toward the speaker.

“Are you from around here?”

I regard him—the man speaking is just a tad taller than Duke, with the same blue eyes. My tongue pokes out and darts across my lips. Even as my lips part, I decide to go for honesty.Always the best policy… unless it’ll get you killed,I think ruefully. “No. I grew up in Texas, actually.”

“Wow. That’s a long way from here,” Ellie observes.

I nod and absentmindedly jab a French fry in ketchup before taking a bite. I chew and swallow, knowing every single pair of eyes are on me. “It is,” I say, since they seem to be waiting for an answer.

“What brought you to Wyoming?”

The air feels charged, all of a sudden. It takes everything in me to keep from squirming in my chair.Only guilty people squirm,I tell myself. I don’t remember where I heard it first, but it rings true.

I take another sip of water and then smile blandly, doing my best to look like their questions don’t bother me. “You know, it’s been so long, I can’t even remember.”

“What have you been doing since?” Duke asks.

His question at least feels akin to friendly curiosity. I give him a real smile and shrug a shoulder. “Oh, you know. This and that.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I drop my head and stare at my plate, realizing too late how evasive they sound.

“What does that mean?”

A new voice. I lift my head and stare at Elvis, who is regarding me with frank interest. “Working,” I reply, managing a small smile.

He smiles back, and there’s something in his expression—an openness, a friendliness. He just looks like he’s trustworthy, and it helps me relax. “What do you do?”

“Nothingnow,” I admit sheepishly.

Elvis chuckles, and the sound must have been infectious because Duke and Ellie laugh, too.

I sneak a peek toward the original speaker and can’t help but notice he hasn’t so much as cracked a smile. There’s a negative energy coming from him—a tenseness that I’m trying as hard as I can to ignore, because it’s stealing the sense of comfort I found earlier with Duke.

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