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The bed is unmade, and somehow the sight of those tussled sheets fills my head with thoughts of what he might look like naked. My imagination does a good job of dreaming up a Greek God with ripped abs and that sexy V some men have.
Get a grip, Elaina.
I lick my lips and drag my gaze from his bed, peering around the edge of the door. His clothes from last night are tossed on a chair in the corner, and a pair of black biker boots with squared off toes sit on the floor. They have a band across the heel with a silver chain. They look cool as hell. I wish I’d noticed them last night, but I was too busy being embarrassed at getting caught in his house in my pajamas.
My gaze drifts to the closet. One sliding door is open, and the row of shirts and jackets on hangers is in plain view. He’s got a lot of black t-shirts, some denim long sleeve shirts, some flannel, and a couple of leather jackets, all well-worn.
Something above the shelf above catches my eye. It looks like a flag tacked up to the wall.
I hesitate, but in the end, I can’t stop myself from pushing into the room and stepping to the closet. The flag is black with a silver design and wording. The design is of a skull wearing a crown. Across the top is readsRoyal Bastards MC. I frown. Why does he have a flag like this? Is he friends with them? Last night he warned me off them, saying it was best to stay clear.
I scan the room and something shiny on the nightstand catches my eye. Stepping closer, I see several silver rings. Big ones. One is a skull wearing a crown, just like on the flag. Another is the number one and the percent sign. What is that supposed to mean?
I pick them up and study them.
A pounding on the door scares the crap out of me, and I drop them. One rolls under the bed. Rosie starts barking, and I hit my knees, feeling around for it. I find it but also see a large case and wonder what’s in it.
The banging starts again, and I scramble to my feet and run to answer it. Rosie barks again.
“Hush, Rosie.” Moving to the front door, I peer out the diamond shaped window. It’s a woman. She’s young. Not much more than twenty. She’s a stunning blonde in a tight leather jacket and skimpy top underneath. The only thing that ruins her look is the fact she’s chewing gum with her mouth open.
She pops a bubble. “I see you. Are you going to open the door or what?”
Well now I have to, dammit. I throw the lock and swing the door open. “Um. Hi. Can I help you?”
She pushes past me but stops short by Rosie’s protective growl.
“Rosie. Relax,” I say, and she instantly backs off.
The woman’s eyes return to me. “When the hell did Baja get a dog?”
“Who?”
“Baja. Is he here?”
“Baja?” I repeat, confused.
“Yeah. I saw his bike through the garage window.”
“You mean Dylan?”
“No, I mean Baja.”
“Um, the guy who owns the motorcycle?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“He left this morning. Took his truck.”
“Oh.” She gives me the once over. “Who are you?”
“I’m… a friend of his.”
“I’ve never seen you around. What kind of friend?” Her hands hit her hips. “Is hedoingyou?”
Doing me? “God, no. I’m… I know his brother, Elliott.”
“Huh. I didn’t know he had a brother.”
