“Baby, shut…up.”

I shut up.

Buck studied my face.

Then his lips twitched.

Then he asked, “A librarian with a shoe fetish?”

Argh!

I turned to stare out the windshield and crossed my arms on my chest.

“Babe,” Buck called, and I ignored him. “Toots,” he called again, and I ignored him. “Clara,” he called yet again, and I spoke to the windshield.

“I’m hungry and I want to get this over with. Are we going to stay on the shoulder all night? Because, if so, I have thirty-eight dollars in my purse and I’m walking to the nearest fast food place on the nearest off ramp and getting myself dinner.”

Suddenly, my seatbelt was released. It zipped back, and I jumped, uncrossing my arms to avoid seatbelt injury. Just as suddenly, I was pulled across the cab and found my torso pressed to Buck’s, both his arms were wound around me, and his face was in mine.

“The nearest turnoff is three miles away. You couldn’t make it in those shoes,” he informed me.

“She’s hungry enough, a woman can do a lot in her quest for food,” I replied.

He grinned.

It was close up and his grins close up were the best.

My heart skipped just as I felt pain slice through my belly, and I realized the despair was back. It had disappeared while my life shifted, but it was back.

I was going to have to learn to live with it again.

“I’ll get you home, you’ll meet my kids and I’ll feed you as soon as you kiss me.”

My heart skipped again.

“I’m not in the mood to kiss you,” I stated firmly, because I definitely wasn’t.

“Then we’ll sit just like this as long as it takes for you to get in the mood.”

I glared into his eyes.

Eyes, incidentally, whose laugh lines had deepened.

“I’m learning something about you,” I told him.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“You’re annoying.”

His arms spasmed around me as he laughed.

I did not laugh.

I kept glaring.

His laughter died to a chuckle and then he said, “Somethin’ else you should know about me, Toots.”

“And that is?”

“I’m stubborn.”

Oh, for goodness sake.

I lifted up and touched my mouth to his then pulled back.

“There, happy?”

His brows went up. “Are you shitting me?”

I tried to push my hands between our bodies, but failed, gave up and answered, “No.”

“Babe, kiss me.”

“I did, and we need to get a move on. I don’t think it’s illegal to hang out on the side of the road embracing, but it is likely something the Arizona Highway Patrol frowns on.”

“Don’t give a shit.”

“Buck—”

“Kiss me.”

“No, I’m—”

“Babe, kiss me.”

“No! I think—”

His arms squeezed. “Clara, stop fuckin’ around.”

“Oh, all right,” I snapped, lifted again, tilted my head to the side and put my lips to his.

I knew that wouldn’t be enough, so I touched the tip of my tongue to his lips, those lips opened, and I slid my tongue inside.

God, I hated that I loved the way he tasted.

And I loved it.

Enough for my body to melt against his, my hands, which were on his shoulders, slid around to his back, and I pressed in, drinking my fill.

He forced my tongue out of his mouth, his tongue invaded mine, his arms tightened, and he took over the kiss.

It was amazing, beautiful, wet, deep, wild and all of those enough to make me forget he’d given the same thing to another woman not very long ago.

In fact, I forgot everything but Buck, his body, his mouth, his tongue, and the fact that I was happy that in that moment they were all mine.

After a while (a long while), he lifted his head, and I opened my eyes to stare into his.

His were dark and hungry.

Delicious.

“Now, I’ll take you home,” he murmured, his rough voice thick.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He gave me another squeeze then he did something wrong.

He angled his head and kissed my nose before depositing me back in my seat.

That slid next to the despair, souring my stomach.

Buck put the truck into gear, released the parking brake, flipped on the turn signal and pulled into traffic.

I drifted my fingers through my hair then touched the tips of them to my lips.

I loved the taste of him, and I loved that he kissed my nose. And I loved that he ended a fight kissing me. And I loved that he took my diatribe and ended that by teasing me.

I loved it all and I hated it all, and I wondered if he did the same with Nails and whoever else was in his life.

But this was as good as I could get and I’d been so low, I reminded myself where I was now was a lot better than where I used to be.

And anyway, I was Clara Nobody.

What did I think I deserved?

Grin and bear it, my mind reminded me.

“Babe,” Buck called.

One could say I had learned my lesson.

So I looked at him.

“Yes?”

His tattooed arm came out and his fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling my arm to him, sliding down. His big hand enveloping mine, he gave it a squeeze.

“I gave you all that and you didn’t even wince. Your ribs good?”

And there it was.

Thoughtful.

Worried.

Protective.

All of that awesome.

None of it really real.

“They’re fine,” I told him the truth.

“Healin’,” he muttered. “Good.”

At least that was right.

“We’ll find your girl,” he said gently, resting my hand on his thigh.

God, I hated that I loved it when he was sweet and protective.

Grin and bear it, my mind repeated to me.

Yes, I was now a biker babe and that was what a biker babe would do.

And I would be a biker babe until I needed to be the next thing I needed to be.

One thing I knew.

When I was whatever that next thing was, I’d have to grin and bear that too.

12

Gear

I stood outside on Buck’s deck, drinking a margarita and trying to find calm.

Buck had been right.

The minute Gear met me, he started flirting.

The minute Tatiana met me, however, she decided she hated me.

Actively.

Twenty minutes ago, we’d walked into his house and the kids were already there.

After Buck gave his daughter a hug and a kiss on the top of her head and slapped his son on the shoulder, he performed the introductions.

I saw that the kids were different than their pictures in his bedroom.

In the pictures, they were more kid than adult.

Now they were definitely more adult than kid.

They both looked like him and this was more than a hint.

Gear was Buck’s height, which meant, I guessed, he was six-foot, six-foot-one. His body had the same build, but it was different. His shoulders not yet as broad. His frame not as filled out.

Gear also didn’t have the command of his body like his dad had. Gear held himself loose, and although not boyish, it was cocky.