Page 13 of The Belle and the Biker

"We have a personality clash," I sniff. "Mine is sunny and gracious, and his is rude, grouchy, and completely lacking in manners."

"I'm sorry, did you not notice all the motorcycles lined up outside our bar when you applied for the waitress job?" Axl scoffs. "Daisy didn't tell you what you were getting into?" Daisy worked here when I first came to New York; she and I went out for a drink one night; the rest is history. "What kind of guy were you expecting? Someone from the pages of Gentleman's Quarterly?"

"That's exactly what she was expecting." Crash's eyes bore into me.

I glower at him. That's an unfair accusation, and I'd simply prefer someone who's not openly rude to me. "You have a whole club full of big scary guys," I point out. "Assuming I even need a bodyguard, which I'm sure I don't. Why would a murderer stick around the scene of the crime? He'll be long gone."

"You have a lot of experience with murderers?" Axl demands. "No? Didn't think so. The rest of my big, scary guys happen to be busy. They have jobs, and they have duties in the club. Since Crash just returned, he hasn't been assigned anything—until now. And this happened on our turf, so it's personal." He tips the bottle of Guinness back, drains the rest, and grabs another bottle from the desk.

Standing so close to Crash is maddening. My body pulses with need, and every time he brushes against me, which happens much more than necessary, it sends me an electric current of arousal. He's been doing that all night—I can tell it's on purpose. He likes to mess with me.

And now Axl is telling me that every time I leave the club, I need to have Crash by my side, at least for the next few weeks. Sleeping in my apartment. Walking to the grocery store with me.

I can't survive it.

"You can't make me accept him as my bodyguard! You are not the boss of me!" I stamp my foot for emphasis. Tiddlywinks utters a supportive yip.

Tawny laughs behind her hand. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, using my middle finger to do it.

"I am the boss of you." Axl walks behind the desk and sits down, signaling that the conversation is over.

Tawny walks over and sits down on the desk, and he pulls her into his lap. She lands with an oof and smiles at him.

"Fine," I say, but Tawny's leaning down to kiss Axl, and they're ignoring me.

I glance at Crash. "You can't stay at the apartment, though; there's nowhere for you to sleep."

Tawny breaks away from her kiss. "Oh, I'm crashing at Axl's house for the next couple of days. He can have the couch."

"Traitor." I skewer her with a furious glare. "I will get revenge for this. I know where you sleep."

She shrugs and gives me a sunny smile. "I sleep with one eye open."

Axl nods. "She does," he says admiringly. "Always on the lookout for trouble; that's why I love her." He pops the top off the bottle of Guinness and drains the whole thing in one long gulp.

I shake my head at them. "You two. Your cornbread isn't done in the middle."

"Was that…an insult?" Tawny scrunches up her face in confusion.

"It means you're not quite right in the head." But they're kissing again and ignoring me. I have a feeling they're about to use the desk for non-work-related purposes. "Fine. I'm getting my coat." I make a big, huffy show of putting it on. Crash doesn't move to assist me, and I shoot him a look of annoyance.

He follows me out of the office. "Now what? What's that look?"

"I was just remembering what it's like back home, where a gentleman will always help a lady with her coat."

Crash stares at me as if I have completely taken leave of my senses. "What the hell?" he demands. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

He throws back his head and laughs, a deep, rich sound that wraps around me and warms me. "Why would someone do that? Are Southern women crippled or something? Do you all have weak arms? Are you okay, Savannah?"

I start to laugh, too, and then clap my hand over my mouth. Now he's making me remember that he can be funny and charming every once in a while, and that's the last thing I need to be thinking about.

I do notice that Crash is walking on the outside of the sidewalk closest to the street, putting himself in between me and harm's way. I guess that's a nice thing for him to do, or it would be if he'd volunteered for the job of being my bodyguard. The fact that Axl ordered him to do it makes it a lot less sweet.

Nobody tries to kill me on the two-block walk home. Crash accompanies me as I take Tiddlywinks out of my purse for a quick walk. She shivers and looks at me resentfully. She doesn't like cold weather, I can tell. I wish I had the money for a little coat and booties for her, but as they say, back home, I'm too broke to pay attention. I'd been counting on that modeling fee.

When we get into the apartment, Crash insists I stand in the doorway while he does a quick but thorough search for assassins, checking the bathroom, the closets, and the window that leads to the fire escape. Then it's just the two of us standing there awkwardly, with him staring out the window and me painfully aware of how long it's been since I've had sex. It's like being on a diet and sitting beside a giant plate of sweet, tangy barbecue ribs.

---