Page 2 of The Biker's Second Chance
And Sean O’Leary checking out my ass is not going to change that.
I turn to face him, and he's leaning casually on the doorframe.
The years have been kind to Sean. His dark hair is peppered with silver. There are lines around his mouth and crinkles at the edges of his eyes highlighting the fact that he's spent a lifetime smiling. His beard is longer and scruffier in an endearingly rugged kind of way, and his lips are just as full and kissable as I remember.
He catches me looking at his lips, and they turn up in a cocky smile.
It’s like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. Like he always did.
I pull my eyes away from him and turn the dishwasher on.
“You look the same.”
It’s a lie. Sean must be nearly forty now, and the years look good on him. He’s got a calmness about him, a dignity that wasn’t there before. Sean was always a good-looking man, but now he’s downright devastating.
My stomach’s tying itself up in knots, and it feels like a cage of butterflies are beating against my chest. And deep down in my core, there’s a stirring that I haven’t felt in a long time. Seven years to be exact.
“Are you back for a visit or for good?”
I try to sound casual, hoping he can’t tell my body’s gone into overdrive at the sight of him.
“It depends.”
Of course it does. Sean was never one to make a commitment. I should know. We were together for two years, and he never proposed. I should have known he would leave me one day. But it was still a hell of a shock when it happened the way that it did.
I don’t even bother to ask what it depends on. Probably some club business that I don’t know about. The best I can do is try to stay out of his way while he’s here and hope like hell he goes back to Ireland quickly.
“You never answered my letters,” he says quietly.
I pause halfway through scrubbing out a pot. Sean walked out of my life seven years ago. Admittedly those were extreme circumstances, but he didn’t even say goodbye.
“No,” I say simply. “I didn’t.”
“How come, Gina? Why didn’t you ever write me back?”
I rest the pot on the drying rack and turn to face him. The cocky grin has been replaced by a serious look with something like yearning.
There was a time when I was so angry at Sean that I used to imagine all the things I’d say to him when I saw him again. But now that he’s here in front of me, I don’t feel angry. I just feel tired.
“You left me, Sean. Did you really expect me to respond to your letters?”
His face falls.
“I never meant to hurt you, Gina. You know I would have stayed if I could.”
It comes out soft as an Irish breeze, and I remember the way he used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear as we made love, driving me wild with his accent and his hot breath on my skin.
Whatever happened between us, whatever we both regret, it was a long time ago.
“It doesn’t matter, Sean. We really don’t need to drag it all up. There was a time when I would have done anything for closure. But now, do you know what, Sean? I just don't care.”
He stares at me for a long moment.
“I don't think that's true, love.” His eyes sparkle as he takes a step towards me. “I think underneath that voluptuous, mouthwatering chest of yours, your old heart still beats for me.”
Only Sean could be so crass and so romantic all in the same sentence, and only Sean could see through me so utterly.
I wipe my hands on the dishcloth and discard it on the drying rack.
