Page 28 of The Biker and the Professor
“Who?”
“Oh, sorry. Grunt. I’m here to see Grunt.”
“Ah,” he rubs his chin and grins. “Heard about you. You’re his Steady.”
I frown. “His what?”
He just continues to grin at me as he jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “Your man’s workin’ on the Buick three rows down.”
Then I remember Cookie’s words.A Steady is sort of an exclusive girlfriend.
Well, damn. I’m Nero—no, Grunt’s Steady. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet. The “exclusive girlfriend” part scares me a little bit.
Mumbling a “thank you,” I step around him and continue walking until I see the white Buick. It’s not elevated, but I can see his two long, overall-covered legs sticking out from under the vehicle.
Unsure what to do with myself, I decide to wait until he’s through. The last thing I want is to surprise him and cause him to accidentally bang his head against something.
But I’m not standing there fifteen seconds when I hear, “Is that you, Blume?”
Fighting back a smile, I answer, “Uh, yeah. How can you tell?”
“Can tell your smell anywhere, babe.” He slides out from under the car and sits up. “That and those fancy-ass shoes.”
As he stands, my heart flutters at the sight of him. He’s in a soiled, white wife-beater, with his blue overalls hanging around his waist and scuffed-to-hell-and-back Timberlands. Flyaway strands of blond hair escape from his perpetual man-bun and stick to his sweat-sheened temples.
He’s so freaking hot I want to squeal.
As he gets out a kerchief from his back pocket and wipes his hands, he asks, “What’re you doing here, Professor?”
“I missed you,” I say pitifully.
“So, you show up at my workplace?” His tone and expression are unreadable. I don’t know if he’s mad or pleased. But based upon Kendra’s earlier statement, I’m betting on the former. It’s a risk I knowingly took.
Holding up the takeaway bag, I give a sheepish shrug. “I brought shrimp and crab stir fry?” Hopefully, this gesture will thrust me into his good graces.
One corner of his mouth curves up as he makes a small shake of his head. “Come here.”
I go to him.
“You missed me?” he asks.
“More than I care to admit.”
“Ask me to kiss you.”
With a pathetically desperate sigh, I shiver as I beg, “Please.”
Taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he lowers his mouth to mine and gives me what I’ve beendyingfor these past few days. I melt into him, feeling as though I can finally breathe again.
He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead to mine. “Thanks for coming. I’m starved.”
“For me or for food?”
He smiles. “Both. Haven’t eaten since breakfast. Tell me you brought something to wash it down?”
“Coconut water.”
“You’re the best, babe.” He pulls back and hooks his arm around my neck. “C’mon. Time to feed me.”
