Page 41 of The Belle and the Biker

He leaves the room and shuts the door behind him, narrowly dodging the shoe I throw at his head. The shoe I won't be allowed to take with me.

Well then. If Crash wants to be seen with an absolute slob with a terrible wardrobe, that's what he'll get. I hope he's happy. I hope he's ecstatic.

I fly into a frenzy, pulling out most of my hair products and stuffing in a few of the new outfits I got from the Bitter End Boutique.

I don't know exactly where we're going, but Crash said it was a small town in South Carolina near Charlotte. Does Crash even appreciate the challenge of winter dressing in the South? I doubt it. At least in the summer, you know what you're getting—furnace blast heat outside, arctic chill air conditioning inside. The weather can turn at any time in the winter, so I need a fall, winter, and spring selection, and now I won't even have enough to cover one season. And I've now filled my one bag near to bursting.

Desperate, I grab my biggest purse and fill it to the brim with lingerie, shoes, makeup, and jewelry. I dare Chase to challenge me on it. I'll go down fighting.

I finish in ten minutes and storm into the foyer to have a few choice words with my great-aunt.

She's holding Tiddlywinks, stroking her little head. "It's probably safer if you leave her with me," she says.

I'm in too sour of a mood to thank her for her kind offer. Today will be a "no good deeds" day, and I don't even care. I haven't freaking murdered anyone. That's my good deed.

"I couldn't impose," I say shortly, reaching for Tiddlywinks. Aunt Hepzibah reluctantly lets her go.

Then the strangest thing happens. Her face just kind of crumples, and her gaze shoots to the far corner of the room. Clustered in a corner are a doghouse, a dog couch, a dog bed, and a basket of toys—all Tiddlywinks-sized.

"Where did those come from?"

Her gaze slides to the left. "They were up in the attic."

Liar. She's never owned a dog.

She shrugs, blinking hard with eyes that are suddenly glistening. "Well, you should get going." And suddenly, I see a side of Aunt Hepzibah that I've never seen before. She's not just a five-foot-two-inch ball of spite and sarcasm. She's also childless, has buried three husbands, and most of her relatives only visit her out of guilt and fear. My mother used to drop me off here as a punishment, which wasn't lost on my aunt.

I love Tiddlywinks, but Aunt Hepzibah needs her. I suck in a breath and let it out slowly, and I feel some of my rage leak out with it. "Actually, you're right. I would hate to have Tiddlywinks get caught in the crossfire if that guy finds me. And we have a long bike ride ahead of us, and it would be hard on her. It would be better if she stayed with you. I mean, for now."

Aunt Hepzibah sniffs and looks away from me. "Oh, no, I couldn't take her from you."

I hold Tiddlywinks out to her. "Really. You'd be doing me an enormous favor."

"One of many," Aunt Hepzibah says. "Oh, all right. Just for a while." She snatches Tiddlywinks from me and cradles her in her arms. Just for a while, ha. I'm never getting my dog back.

Well, that's what I wanted all along, wasn't it? I'm hardly in a position to take care of a pet, even when I'm not on the run from a killer.

But when we leave, there's a sharp pang in my heart. I stand there as Crash straps my bag and my purse onto a rack fitted on the back of the bike.

"Thank goodness she's keeping Tiddlywinks," I say brightly, blinking hard because the wind is making my eyes tear up. "That dog was nothing but trouble. Those two deserve each other." Will I ever get to braid Tiddlywinks's fur again?

Crash shrugs. "She was all right for…for a dog that was at least fifty percent rat. Here, put your helmet on."

I make a face.

"What? You are afraid you'll get helmet hair?" he scoffs.

I look down at the helmet. "It's white. And it's after Labor Day. And I've already sacrificed 95 percent of my wardrobe. There's only so much humiliation a girl should have to endure."

Crash shakes his head slowly. "Has anyone ever told you you're nuttier than a fruitcake?"

"It's been implied."

"This is the only helmet I have that will fit you. Mine is too big. When we get there, I will find you a different helmet."

Scowling, I sacrifice the last shreds of my dignity and put the helmet on.

"Where are we going?" I ask Crash.

---