Page 7 of Heartbeats & Highways

“I work at the ring because the money is good,” I said. “Why do you fight?”

“Same reason.” He shrugged. “It pays well, and I like it.”

“Probably doesn’t hurt that all you have to do is nod and women come running to you like little sex pots,” I added.

“Not all women, clearly. You kind of bruised my ego.”

“I think you’ll get over it.”

“Nope. I won’t. I’ll never have the confidence to ask out another woman as long as I live.”

“So dramatic,” I teased, smiling despite my better judgement. “Just tell me the truth. Did you find a runner up to take home last night?”

“Nope.”

“Realllly . . .”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I felt the energy in the warehouse. There’s no way you went home alone just because I didn’t bow at your feet.”

“Bow at my feet,” he murmured. “I kind of like that visual.”

I arched a brow. “Never gonna happen.”

“Never say never.”

“I’m not looking for trouble.”

“What are you looking for?” he asked, pivoting the conversation. “A nice guy? White picket fence and a couple of kids?”

“Not looking for that either,” I proclaimed.

I wasn’t sure why I was indulging him. Savage was a stranger. And yet . . . it was easy to talk to him. He’d disarmed me—quickly. It had only been a few minutes, and I was already starting to converse with him like I’d known him for years.

And now I was on guard because getting close to anyone would be a terrible idea.

I polished off my final taco. Savage gathered our trash and dumped it into a garbage bin next to the taco truck and returned the tray.

“Ready?” he asked.

I frowned. “Ready for what?”

He gestured to his bike. “The ride of your life.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got to get home.”

“Can I see you again?” Savage asked.

“No.”

He placed his hand on his chest like he’d been stabbed. “You wound me.”

“Something tells me you’ll recover.”

He peered at me for a moment, his blue eyes suddenly brighter in the winter sun. “No. I don’t think I will.”

Chapter 3

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