Page 27 of Baby for the Bikers

“Maddox,” Rowan warns, shrugging off my hand.

Evie’s eyes flick between us, missing nothing. “I heard about the bikes. Tough break.” Her smile widens. “Though it seems to have worked out for everyone involved.”

There’s a weight to her words that makes me study her more carefully. Evie’s always been perceptive—maybe too perceptive for comfort.

“Can I get you anything else?” Rowan asks, clearly eager to escape the conversation.

“Just the check. I need to pick up the girls from school.” Evie reaches for her purse. “But I’ll definitely be back. Maybe with the family next time.”

As she pays, she leans across the counter toward Rowan. “The Kane brothers are good men. My husbands swear by it,” she says softly, though not softly enough that I can’t hear. “Complicated, but good. Just like mine.”

Rowan doesn’t respond, but the flush creeping up her neck speaks volumes.

After Evie leaves, Rowan refuses to look at me, focusing instead on aggressively wiping down already-clean counters.

“She seems nice,” I offer, just to break the silence.

“She has three husbands,” Rowan mutters.

“Wolf Pike’s progressive that way.” I move closer, gratified when she backs up a step. Still affected by our interrupted moment, then.

“Is everyone in this town in some kind of bizarre relationship?” She scrubs harder at an imaginary stain.

“Not everyone.” I lean against the counter, watching her. “Just the interesting ones.”

That earns me a glare. “I’m not interested in being interesting.”

“Too late for that, sweetheart.” I reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering against her cheek. “You were interesting the moment you took out three bikes with one reverse.”

She slaps my hand away, but not before I feel the heat in her skin. “You should get back to the garage. I’m sure your brothers need you.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“Succeeding, I hope.”

I laugh, untying my apron. “Fine. I’ll let you catch your breath. But this conversation isn’t over.”

“Yes, it is.” She turns away, but not before I catch the slight curve of her lips.

“Whatever you say, princess.” I grab my jacket, heading for the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“I thought Ryder was scheduled for tomorrow?”

I glance back, grinning. “Oh, he’ll be here, but I’ll be here too. Hope you like coffee because you’re getting a lot more of it.”

The thrown dish towel misses my head by inches as I duck toward the door, laughing.

She’s already under my skin, this mysterious baker with her sharp tongue and curved hips. But from the way she responded to me today—all fire and reluctant heat—I’d bet good money I’m getting under hers too.

I’m halfway to the door when I stop, turning back toward her. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea.”

She eyes me suspiciously, cloth in hand like she might throw another one. “What?”

“There’s racing tonight. The underground track just outside town.”

“Racing?” Her eyebrow arches in a way that makes me want to bite it. “As in, motorcycle racing?”

“Sometimes bikes, sometimes cars.” I lean against the doorframe, studying her reaction. “It’s where the town really comes alive on Friday nights. Everyone who matters shows up.”

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