Page 7 of Impulsive Saint
Instinctively, she reached out to grab the handlebars but a gruff voice stopped her cold, “Don’t touch that.”
“I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand away as if she’d been burned. “I was just trying to steady myself.”
“Yeah, me too.” He snorted and when she glanced up at him his hands were on his hips, “So spill, you wanted away. We’re away. Nobody’s chasing us, so let me in on your plan. What the hell happened back there, Ashtyn?”
Her breath caught in her throat when he used her name. Her eyes widened and she tried to put distance between them. If she hadn’t been straddling the motorcycle, she would have been more graceful, she was sure of it. As it was though, she pushed backwards instinctively, backing away from the man, got her flip flop caught on the kickstand and went sprawling to the concrete with a wail as her ass hit the ground.
“Jesus.” The man growled and to her dismay grabbed for the motorcycle to keep it upright, “You nearly knocked Baby over. Be careful.”
From her sprawled position on the ground, surrounded by yards of taffeta, she looked up at him from suspicious eyes, “You call your motorcycle Baby?”
He shrugged and she groaned. That hadn’t been what she meant to ask, not at all. Even if it was kind of adorable that this big, buff, badass motorcycle riding guy, called his bike, Baby. She needed to get it together.
“You called me Ashtyn.” she accused.
“Of course I called you Ashtyn. What the hell else am I supposed to call you, your highness?”
“H-How do you know my name?” She wiped at her hands as she tried to pull herself up from the ground, “Oh my God. Did I help you kidnap me? Is that why you were waiting in that back alley?”
He snorted with laughter when she tripped over the huge billowing skirt and fell backwards again, “No, I did not kidnap you.Youaskedmefor a ride, remember?”
“But…”
“Oh come on, I know your name because your face has been plastered in newspapers since you were just a kid. You’re Senator Echols’ daughter.” He came around the bike, towards her.
“Which is why you could be a stalker or a…”
He made a low, annoyed noise, but offered her his hand to help her up from the ground, “I’m not a stalker, a kidnapper or an axe murderer before you get any other crazy ideas in your head. I was at the church for the wedding. Of course I know who you are, Ashtyn. I’m not an idiot.”
Ashtyn tried not to frown as she stared at the strange man that she didn’t know at all. He’d been at the church for her wedding? He wasn’t one of her guests. He must have been one of Aaron’s then, right? But if that was true why would he have helped her run away from the wedding? He cleared his throat and with no other choice she took his hand, letting him pull her upright until she was back on her feet.
“Thank you.” she huffed, struggling to straighten the massive monstrosity of a dress.
“You’re welcome.” His lips curled into a small smile, “But you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Question?” she repeated dumbly, suddenly star-struck by the dimples that appeared when he grinned at her like that.
He was handsome, she realized. Only no, that wasn’t the right word. Men like Aaron were handsome. This man was just plain hot. Sexy even.
He had dark brown hair, longer on top, and the ends were tinted a lighter color, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. He had a straight nose, square jaw and a wide smile that was accented by those deep dimples on each side. But it was his eyes that put his good looks over the top. With his dark hair she’d have expected brown, hazel, or maybe even green. Instead they were the lightest blue, so sharp they were nearly silver, ringed in a deep midnight that made his dark lashes stand out.
She’d been so caught up in her escape plan and the miracle of miracles that a man with a motorcycle was waiting at the end of the alley when she escaped, that she hadn’t really even looked at him. He could have been anyone. Old. Young. Bearded like Santa Claus or with teeth like a troll. She hadn’t been paying attention but now that she was, she couldn’t believe that she’d been holding on tight to this strong Adonis of a man for the last half hour and not even realized her good fortune.
Muscles and dimples and blue eyes, oh my!
“Yeah.” He raised a dark eyebrow, pulling her back to reality, “I think it’s about time you explain yourself. Just what the hell happened back there that turned you into a runaway bride?”
Explain herself? Her hackles rose at his demanding tone. She’d spent her entire life explaining herself to men. First her father and then Aaron. She didn’t owe this stranger any explanations.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you. I don’t even know you.”
That made his silver blue eyes narrow again and he pointed a finger at her, “You’re right, you don’t know me. I could have been anyone and I could’ve taken you for any reason. You were an idiot to go riding off on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle as if you didn’t have a care in the world.”
“Excuse me?” She gaped at him.
“What? Excuse you and your entitled little ass for thinking I’d just chauffer you wherever you wanted to go, no questions asked? Sorry, princess. I’m going to need a little more information than that.”
She stared at him, mouth open, for a long moment. She had never, ever, been spoken to like this before in her life. Nobody who knew her would have dared to yell at her, to call her an idiot or point out just how entitled she was. The people in her world were too used to kissing her father’s ass and sucking up to her to call her out, let alone curse at her.
