Page 27 of My Single Dad Biker

Now I'm home and I have three hours and I need to shower and figure out what to wear and calm down enough that I don't look completely insane when he arrives.

I drop my bag on the couch and walk to my bedroom. Stand in front of my closet for thirty seconds staring at clothes that suddenly all feel wrong.

Too nice looks like I'm trying too hard. Too casual looks like I don't care. I settle on yoga pants and a soft grey t-shirt because at least it's comfortable and he's seen me in yoga pants before.

Shower. Shave my legs even though I shaved them yesterday. Dry my hair and leave it down because he seems to like it down. Put on the yoga pants and t-shirt. Look at myself in the mirror.

I look terrified.

I walk back to the living room and try to find something to do with my hands.

Make dinner I can't eat. Sit on the couch with a book I can't read. Check my phone even though I know he won't call until he's on his way. Stand up. Sit down. Stand up again.

At eight o'clock I give up on pretending to be calm and just pace.

Louis is probably in bed by now. Holt is probably doing the routine. Reading whatever book they're on. Waiting for Louis to fall asleep. Then he'll leave Ray's nephew at his house and drive here and knock on my door and I'm going to let him in and we're going to finish what we started.

My stomach tightens at the thought.

I've had sex before, obviously, but those were boyfriends I dated for months first. Men who were nice and asked permission for everything. Men who made it pleasant and fine and completely forgettable.

Holt is going to be intense and consuming and I'm going to feel it everywhere for days afterward.

The thought makes me sit down because my knees feel unsteady.

At eight-thirty I check my phone again. Nothing. He's probably still with Louis. I'm being ridiculous. I stand up and walk to the kitchen and drink a glass of water I don't need.

At nine o'clock there's a knock on my door.

I'm across the room in three steps. Open the door without checking because I know it's him.

Holt is standing on my porch.

He's wearing jeans and a dark blue t-shirt that makes his eyes look darker. His hair is slightly damp. He's wearing a leather jacket even though it's not cold enough for one. He looks at me and I look at him and for five seconds neither of us moves.

"Hi," I manage.

"Hi."

My mouth is dry. "Come in."

He steps inside and I close the door and lock it and we're standing in my entryway and I can barely breathe. He hasn't touched me yet but I can feel the want rolling off him in waves.

"Where's Louis?" I ask because I need to say something.

"Asleep. Ray's nephew is at my house in case he wakes up."

"How long can you stay?"

"As long as I need to."

We look at each other. The air between us is so thick it feels solid.

"We should talk," he says.

My stomach drops. "Okay."

"Can we sit down?"