Page 26 of Baby for the Bikers

I grin, unrepentant. “Just admiring the view. Those pants are a workplace hazard.”

“My pants are perfectly fine for a diner.” She turns away, focusing on chopping vegetables with unnecessary force.

“Nothing about the way your ass looks in those isperfectly fine,” I counter, moving closer under the pretense of reaching for the salt. “It’s distracting.”

“Then stop looking at it.” Her knife doesn’t slow, but her shoulders tense as I invade her space.

“Can’t help it. I’m only human.” I need a spice from the cabinet above her head. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I reach up, pressing slightly closer than necessary. She’s forced to face me, backed against the counter.

Her breath catches as I lean in, my chest nearly touching hers. Our height difference means she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. Her defiance is simultaneously irritating and arousing.

“Excuse me,” she says, attempting to slip past.

I don’t move. Instead, I place my hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. “Not so sharp-tongued now, are you?”

Up close, I can see flecks of gold in her green eyes, count each freckle dusting her nose, and feel the heat radiating from her body.

“Move,” she whispers, but there’s a quiver in her voice that tells me she’s not entirely opposed to our current position.

I push closer, eliminating what little space remained between us. She gasps as I press forward, making sure she feels exactly what she’s doing to me. The thin material of her pants and my jeans does little to disguise my reaction to her.

“You like this, don’t you?” I murmur, my voice dropping lower as my gaze shifts to her parted lips. “Like playing with fire.”

Her breathing quickens, her pupils dilating as she stares up at me. For a moment, I think she might actually tilt her face up the remaining inch and close the gap herself.

The bell above the door chimes, shattering the moment.

Rowan’s reaction is instantaneous and painful. Her elbow connects with my ribs, followed immediately by her knee driving upward between my legs. Not enough to do serious damage, but enough to make me double over, groaning.

“Dick,” she hisses, slipping away while I’m incapacitated.

I straighten slowly, my hands braced on my thighs as I watch her straighten her clothes and paste on a smile before heading out to greet the customer.

“Worth it,” I mutter to myself, adjusting my jeans while I can’t be seen from the dining area.

11

MADDOX

When the painsubsides enough for me to function, I peer through the kitchen door to see who interrupted us. The woman sitting at the counter is familiar—dark hair with caramel highlights, an easy smile that doesn’t quite reach her watchful eyes. Evie Cross, formerly Evie Ashbourne, if the town gossip is accurate. The woman who landed all three Cross brothers.

She’s chatting with Rowan like they’re old friends, though I know they’ve never met. That’s Evie’s talent—making everyone feel instantly comfortable, like they’ve known her forever. It worked on the Cross brothers. Worked on the entire town.

I can hear snippets of their conversation as I approach.

“—and I told them absolutely not, we’re not having a fourth birthday party with actual wolves,” Evie is saying, laughing.

Rowan’s expression is genuinely amused. “Your husbands suggested real wolves for a child’s birthday?”

“Only Zane. He thinks everything is better with ‘authentic experiences.’” Evie makes air quotes. “The other two have moresense.” She glances up as I emerge from the kitchen. “Speaking of troublemakers. Hey, Maddox.”

“Evie.” I slide behind the counter, trying not to wince at the lingering ache between my legs. “What brings you to our humble establishment?”

“Heard the food was amazing.” Her knowing smile suggests she’s heard more than that. “Thought I’d introduce myself to the newest addition to our town.”

The way she emphasizes “newest addition” makes me wonder exactly what she knows. Wolf Pike has a way of collecting refugees—Evie was one herself before the Cross brothers claimed her.

“Well, you’ve met our chef.” I rest a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, feeling her tense under my touch. “Baker extraordinaire and destroyer of custom motorcycles.”

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