“No thank you, pussy tease.” She snatched the glass and sucked it down. “I can walk.”
He needed to make sure she understood. “This has nothing to do with you, Tina. It’s all about me.”
“Did you get that line from the all-time lame excuses handbook?”
He grimaced. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
She waved her hand. “Stop.”
When she stood and yelped, Vincent shook his head. “Stubborn little girl.” He lifted her into his arms.
She kicked in protest. “Where are you going to sleep?”
“In the bunkhouse.”
“What?” She obviously disliked his answer. “Are you dead from the waist down?”
He threw his head back and laughed menacingly. Far from it…“Nothing short of a brick wall could keep me away from you, Tina. And that’s a risk I’m not willing to take in the middle of the night.”
Chapter 3
She’d rather die than suffer the humiliation of another rejection from Vincent. Her confidence didn’t take many hits. But when it did, she questioned everything about herself. Tucked safely in his king-sized bed, she stared at the closed door with resentment. The aggravating ass had even left a light on for her. A SpongeBob nightlight he used when his sons stayed for the weekend. Which compounded her frustration, because she knew what he meant by it—another reference to her being a little girl.
But he’d kiss and fondle her, get her so worked up her panties were sopping wet. However, when it came to following through, he retreated like a coward. For the first time in her life she didn’t understand men. Weren’t they all the same, driven by basic instincts—food, sex, and sleep? She laughed bitterly; apparently not, because Vincent had some superpower that made him immune to her.
Big bad biker, my ass.
She wiggled her toes and pain shot up her leg. Fine—she’d suffer through the night alone. Maybe the discomfort in her foot would take her mind off the ache between her legs. She fluffed the pillows, then tried to get comfortable. But she couldn’t banish Vincent from her mind. How long had they known each other, over a year? They’d hung out—at the bars, dinners with Lily and Lang, a couple of hockey games, even went to the beach. Never a moment of awkward conversation or lack of attraction—she sighed, knowing how real it was.
Few people could pick up where they left off, after months without contact.
Her lips still tingled from his kisses. She crossed her arms over her chest, pleasant memories springing to life. They’d always enjoyed each other’s company and had a lot in common. But Tina remembered all too well what kind of emotional baggage Vincent dragged around. Two divorces and two sons—though she adored children, knowing he’d always be attached to his second wife felt awkward.
After an hour of tossing and turning, she finally fell asleep.
The bedside alarm clock chirped annoyingly. Tina rolled onto her side so she could reach the off button; seven in the morning came too soon. Thank God Vincent had an en suite bathroom; she needed to pee like a Russian racehorse. Very carefully she tested her ankle again. Although the bathroom was only a few feet away, it felt more like a mile.
What a crazy night. She’d never imagined sleeping in the Sons of Odin clubhouse, or even visiting it again. After Lang retired his patches, Lily had steered their lives away from the charter. And with that move, away from any chance of Tina hooking up with Vincent. Yet time obviously hadn’t erased the memories between them. Or the attraction.
She hobbled into the restroom, noting a slight improvement in the pain and swelling. After washing her hands and face and combing her hair, she squeezed toothpaste onto her index finger and brushed her teeth. Morning breath grossed her out.
Someone knocked on the bedroom door as she hopped toward the bed. “Come in.”
“Hey.” Vincent stepped inside, looking concerned. “What are you doing?”
“Good morning to you too, Mr. Sunshine.” Still upset about the blow-off last night, she couldn’t deny how good he looked first thing in the morning. “I needed to go to the bathroom.”
“Glad to see you’re more mobile today. Doc found a pair of crutches one of the old ladies used last year—she’s about your height. And here.” He offered her a pair of jeans. “From Natasha.”
Tina peeked at the tag to see if they were close to the right size. Perfect. “Thank you.”
“Hungry?” he asked.
“A little,” she said. “Dying for a cup of coffee though.”
He smiled. “We keep as much coffee in this place as we do beer. Want to take a shower first or shall I carry you to the dining room?”