Chapter 9 Trouble
Trouble
Ivy
I carried my duffel bag out of my bedroom, and Ryan took it from me. He stood close while I locked my door, but he was scanning the area outside my townhouse.
He led me to the end of my driveway. I realized we’d be riding on his motorcycle and I nearly tripped.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking down at me.
“I’m fine, but are you sure you’re alright to get both of us to your clubhouse?”
His lips quirked up. “Feeling better now that I’ve got food in my belly, and it isn’t that far from here. Probably five miles, maybe six.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Why’d you stutter-step?”
I shrugged. “Nothing big. I’ve just never ridden on a motorcycle before, and I forgot that you followed me on your…is this a Harley?”
He opened a leather saddlebag and to my surprise, my duffel fit with no problem. After he closed the bag, he faced me. “No, it’s a Triumph. Once I’m on the bike, you climb on behind me. Under the circumstances, I’d like you to hang on to me.”
“What circumstances?” I asked reflexively.
“The fact that I don’t trust you aren’t at one-hundred percent and there could be someone looking for both of us.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him that was enough reason to take me to Chad’s, but I didn’t want him to be in danger either.
I nodded. “Got it… Nickel. That’s what I’m supposed to call you, right?”
“Yeah, at the clubhouse that’d be good, though I don’t care if you call me Ryan in private.”
I didn’t expect I’d spend much time with him in private after tonight.
He swung a leg over his motorcycle and I found I’d been wrong last week. I didn’t stop myself from watching him mount his bike because it was an intrusion, I’d done it because it turned me on so much.
“Grab my shoulder, use the foot peg, and hop on, Trouble. ”
I did what he said and managed to settle behind him more easily than I expected.
His head turned toward his shoulder. “Hang on to me.”
I suddenly felt awkward. I wanted to put my hands on his waist near his hips, but that felt entirely too intimate. I’d look like a fool if I held onto his shoulders. I decided to put my hands on his lower ribcage. “I hope you’re not ticklish,” I muttered at the same time he started the engine.
He shook his head. “I’m not,” he said loud enough to be heard over the bike.
Then we were off. He started slow, but once we were on 103rd Street he took off. We had to be going ten miles over the speed limit. I had a bad habit of speeding, but speeding down the road on a motorcycle was so much better.
From the circuitous route he took to get to Blanding Boulevard, I got the impression he knew as many back roads as I did, and I wondered why that was.
For me, it was an occupational necessity.
The average person – and especially someone who was new to town – didn’t normally go out of their way to take side streets.
I took in the large patch for the Riot MC on the back of his leather cut. Perhaps he knew the same shortcuts for reasons I didn’t want to know.
He slowed to turn off of Blanding Boulevard and after a half-a-mile, he turned left into a property surrounded by a black iron fence.
A two-story building took up a chunk of the property.
There was plenty of room for bikes to park, and a grassy section where there were cars and a couple other motorcycles parked.
He eased his bike into a space next to a beat-up Kia Rio, lowered the kickstand, and shut down the engine. “Do you need help getting off?”
That sounded like fun.
I hung my head at my wayward thought, grateful he couldn’t see me smirking and biting back my laughter.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked.
My head shot up. “I didn’t think you could see me.”
“I can see you in the side mirrors, Ivy. Do need help?” he asked again.
I moved my head in a circular nod. “I imagine I might.”
He grabbed my right hand and guided it up to his shoulder, then he took hold of my left hand. “Put your left foot on the peg, stand, and if you need to, use your hand on my shoulder to help you while you swing your right leg off.”
I followed his instructions, and managed to dismount without making a complete fool of myself.
While he swung off the bike quickly, I still noticed how well he filled out his faded jeans.
He turned around and I swallowed. I hadn’t realized I stood so close to him, and I stepped back.
My heel caught on something and I started to fall.
Ryan lunged toward me, wrapped his warm hands around my biceps, and caught me.
That was good and bad. It was good for all the obvious reasons, but it was bad because now we stood even closer to one another and I smelled his leather vest and faint traces of his cologne or deodorant. Worse, I didn’t like that combination, I loved it.
He stared down at me like he was weighing his words. His hands slid up to my shoulders and back down in a soothing manner. “You actually trip or are you not feeling well?”
I pressed my lips together. “I tripped. There must be a root or something in the ground.”
“Are you prone to being clumsy?”
When I was feeling awkward, absolutely.
Still, we hardly knew each other and I was embarrassed. “Not really, I’m just a little… nervous, I guess.”
“How’s your headache?” he asked, a thread of skepticism in his tone.
“It’s getting better.”
“Think you’re lying, but let me grab your bag,” he said, dropping his hands and side-stepping around me.
I took a deep breath and rubbed my arms. Next thing I knew, he grabbed my hand and he led me to a large concrete patio with six wooden picnic benches. We went in through a back door and I heard the clack of pool balls and alternative rock music played, but it wasn’t blaring.
He led me to a narrow staircase and dropped my hand.
I followed him to the second floor, and down a long corridor with four doors on each side of the hall.
This building was much larger than it seemed from the outside.
My real estate brain wanted to calculate the square footage, but my head was starting to pound again now that I didn’t have anything to distract me from the pain.
He stopped at the second door, unlocked it, and led me inside. There were rectangular windows set high in the wall, which allowed some moonlight to filter inside. He hit a lamp on a nightstand and set my duffel on the floor next to the bed.
“So this is my room for the night?” I asked.
He dragged his fingers along his jaw, the expression in his eyes calculating. “Yes, but it’s my room, so really, it’s our room for the night.”
A sinking sensation went through my belly, but it was tinged with excitement.
He must have read the look on my face. “If Killian isn’t staying here tonight, I can sleep in his room if it makes you more comfortable. But fair warning, he’s probably using his room tonight.”
I shook my head and waved a hand in front of me. “I don’t want to be more of an imposition.” I shrugged and looked him in the eye. “It’s just sleeping after all, right?”
He stared at me for a beat. “That’s right.”
The way he said that, my stupid nerves fired up and I filled the silence. “It’s not like you’re attracted to me or anything.”
With a head shake he turned away from me while shrugging out of his leather vest. He hung it on a wall hook next to a dresser.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a neatly folded black t-shirt, then bent to a different drawer and pulled out a scrap of white fabric.
I watched him put them on the bed, then he reached behind his neck and yanked his t-shirt off right in front of me.
What in the world?
He pitched the t-shirt toward a hamper in the corner of the room, then locked eyes with me. “I wouldn’t put words in my mouth, woman. I’m gonna shower because I’m guessing I’m quicker than you, and I know I got sweatier than you moving that fuckin’ body.”
“Okay,” I whispered, doing my level best not to take in the tattoos on his chest, or his very well-defined muscles, or the smattering of chest hair that I found so appealing.
Picking up the white fabric that I realized was a tank-top undershirt, he trudged closer. “You’re sexy as hell, but you’re also trouble. And I’m not in a place in my life where I can afford more trouble.”
My eyes widened, but with that parting note, he went into the en-suite bathroom and closed the door before I could retort.
Little did he know, I wasn’t trouble. Not even a little bit. Hell, if he had let me talk to Lark months ago, we wouldn’t even be in this darn mess.
I heard the shower start, and I struggled against my vivid imagination thinking about him being naked…
and wet. A remote control sat on the nightstand next to the lamp.
I snatched it up, aimed it at the flat screen on the wall, and the announcer commentary from Monday Night Football filled the room.
I didn’t follow football much until the playoffs, but I needed a distraction from Ryan.
Desperately.
No sooner had I perched a hip on Ryan’s made bed than someone pounded on his door.
“What the hell, Nickel? You’re late for the pool tourney!” a male voice yelled.
The man pounded again, and I hurried to the door, opening it a smidge and felt confused for a second. Ryan and his brother looked so much alike, it took me a beat to realize Killian was standing in the hall glowering at me.
“Hi, um, he’s taking a shower. I’m not sure if he’s going to be—” I cut myself short when I felt the heat of someone who could only be Ryan standing behind me.
“What the fuck, Kill? You’ve never pounded on my door.”
Killian’s eyes darted from me to Ryan. “You’ve never been three hours late before either. I’d ask why she’s here, but I’d rather know why the fuck she’s got a shiner.”
My hand darted up to my face. I didn’t have a black eye…but then I recalled how red and puffy the area around my face was when I used the bathroom before leaving my townhouse.
“We got ambushed outside the bar. Thought Lark or Volt would have shared that shit. We both got walloped in the head, and I’m thinking she might have a slight concussion.”
“No such thing as a ‘slight concussion’, and you know it. The two of you should go to the emergency room.”
“Which would force someone at the hospital to call in the cops and shit. No. That isn’t happening. I’m keeping an eye on her, and we’ll get up every forty-five minutes or whatever the fuck we’re supposed to do.”
Killian scoffed. “You cannot rely on WebMD or some shit—”
“Called Abby, and you know she’s not gonna steer us wrong.”
Even though I didn’t know Killian very well, I swore a devious expression filled his eyes. “Well, unless you’re going to sleep soon, you should come downstairs…and bring her with you.”
“Whatever,” Ryan muttered from behind me and slammed the door shut in Killian’s face.
I turned around. “I’d say that was rude, but I’m guessing you’ve done that to him plenty of times before, being siblings and all.”
“Yeah,” Ryan clipped out.
My eyes watched a droplet of water slide down his neck, to his bare chest, and further down, which was the moment I saw he was only wearing a towel wrapped around his trim waist. My mouth went dry at the sight.
Oh my God.
The things I wanted to do to him…no.
No, that wasn’t a good idea.
He huffed out a breath through his nose. “Fuck. Don’t look at me like that, Ivy.”
I tilted my head. “How about not standing so close to me like that, hmm?”
“Don’t get cute,” he ordered.
“I’m not being cute.”
He dipped his chin and one of his eyebrows ticked up and down. “You are, even though you don’t know it. And your facial expressions are out of control.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was right. Even Chad had told me my facial expressions put me on par with Dorothy from The Golden Girls.
My gaze moved past him and I swatted my hand out toward the bathroom. “You go get dressed or whatever, and we won’t have to talk about this.”
He nodded. “I’ll do that.” His finger came up and traced along the edge of my temple. “Then, I’m taking you downstairs so you can ice this.”
“I can just go downstairs while you—”
His index finger went under my chin and tipped my face up. The insistent look in his eyes sent a thrill through me. “No. You don’t go down there without me.”
My brows furrowed. His statement didn’t sound like a warning, it almost sounded proprietary.
“It’s just a bag of ice,” I whispered.
His expression turned serious. “But that isn’t just some room down there. It’s our common room. If you’re not with me… not sure Killian will be able to stop whatever might happen to you down there.”
“Something would happen to me?”
“Since nobody down there knows who you are… something could. Bottom line, you wait five minutes for me. Got it?”
“I got it.”
Slowly, he dragged his finger out from under my chin. “Don’t be scared. Once they know you’re… with me, it’ll be fine.”
I didn’t know why he hesitated before saying ‘with me,’ but I sensed it went back to his proprietary tone.
He turned around and my mouth dropped open.
Colorful ink depicting the Riot MC patch covered his back.
It was impressive and gorgeous, but made even more so by his rippling muscles.
My eyes wandered down his legs. I admired his thick calves and the intricate scorpion tattoo wrapping around the bottom of his left calf.
The bathroom door snicked shut, and I shook my head.
If anyone was trouble around here, it was definitely him.