Page 16 of Scornful

I don't bother looking up at Dasha as she leans against the workbench, arms crossed over her chest.

Dasha works at Babes & Beans with Meghan, and overall is a good chick. She wasn’t around the club too much, and then she started showing up a little more.

Honestly, she’s stepped up with the old ladies to make sure Rio has support since he’s now a single father.

"Thanks for the assessment," I grunt, straightening up slowly and wincing as my back protests the movement. "You here for a reason, or just to point out the obvious?"

Dasha's dark eyes narrow slightly, assessing me with that penetrating stare that makes me shift slightly. "Just dropped off Cali with Rio. Figured I'd check on you since you missed lunch."

I roll my neck, feeling the vertebrae pop in a way that gives me a moment of relief before the stiffness returns.

I've been pushing myself hard these past few days, taking on extra work at the garage, volunteering for additional security shifts.

Anything to keep my mind off a certain light brown-haired woman with sage green eyes that I can't seem to forget.

Astrid.

Just thinking her name makes something twist in my chest—something I have no business feeling for the VP's daughter.

"Been busy," I say, gesturing to the engine I've been rebuilding. "Kraken needs his bike by tomorrow."

Dasha watches me for a moment longer before reaching into the small cooler we keep in the garage, pulling out a bottle of water and tossing it my way.

I catch it with one hand, grateful for the cold liquid against my parched throat.

"You need to take a break before you seize up worse than that engine," she says, nodding toward my stiff shoulders. "There's an opening at Fern's spa this afternoon. Meghan had to cancel her appointment. Had a call out at the coffee shop, and I had the kids so I couldn’t run in."

I nearly choke on the water. "The spa? I don't do that shit."

Dasha rolls her eyes. "Of course not. Big bad biker is too tough for a massage." She mimics flexing muscles, and I crack a small smile. "Rio goes regularly since his back injury. Says it's the only thing that keeps him functioning some days."

The thought of Fern's spa—of who works there—sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with my aching muscles.

I haven't seen Astrid since that night in the parking lot, three days ago.

Honestly, I haven't trusted myself to.

The idea of seeing her means acknowledging the way she makes a certain part of me twitch, and that’s the last thing I need.

What I really need is space from her while I sort my shit out.

"I'm fine," I insist, turning back to the engine.

"Sure you are. That's why you're moving like you've got a steel rod for a spine." Dasha pushes off from the workbench. "Appointment's at three if you change your mind. I already texted Charm and let her know you’ll be at the appointment."

Before I can say another word, she's sauntering toward the door, throwing one last comment over her shoulder: "And take a fucking shower first. You stink."

The door closes behind her with a soft click.

I stand there for a moment, staring at the engine parts scattered across the workbench, my mind suddenly going wild with things I shouldn’t be thinking—Astrid's hands on my skin.

Her closeness, the chance to see her again in a context where no one would question it.

"Fuck," I mutter, wiping my hands on a shop rag and checking the time.

1:30 PM. Just enough time to finish this part of the rebuild, clean up, and make it to the appointment Dasha set up.

This is a bad idea, maybe even the worst, and yet I'm already planning how to wrap up here in time.

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