Chapter Three
Sophia
I stripped off my clothes, tossing the remains of my shirt in the trash can.
Deuce’s shirt went in the laundry hamper.
The least I could do was wash it before I returned it to him.
The road rash on my arm looked better than I’d anticipated.
It had started to scab over, but it needed to be cleaned.
The last thing I wanted was to have it get infected.
Stepping into the adjoining bathroom, I picked up a clean facecloth.
Wetting it under a stream of warm water, I added some liquid soap.
My mind was only half on the task at hand, the other half wondering what that mouthwatering biker was doing downstairs.
It had been ages since a man had been in my house, and even longer since one had made my heart flutter like a schoolgirl’s.
Still daydreaming about Deuce, I gently wiped the soap-laden cloth across the patch of raw skin on my arm. A searing, white-hot pain shot through my arm, and I let out a high-pitched scream of agony.
Damn, that hurt !
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t want to end up with an infection, I had to clean the road debris out of the wound. I could see grime mixed in with the clotting blood. I raised the cloth once again, steeling myself against the anticipated pain.
The door to the bedroom burst open and Deuce barreled in, pistol in hand. He looked like an avenging angel, sweeping the room with a smooth confidence that made me think he made a habit of this. Gliding across to the closet, he stood to the side while he opened it and checked for… what? Mice?
It was just the last straw after the day from hell. I started to giggle.
His attention snapped to me.
“You screamed.” It sounded more like an accusation than a statement.
I nodded as tears of laughter rolled down my cheeks. I felt dangerously close to hysterics.
“Why?”
I gasped for air, trying to get myself under control. Holding up my arm, I pointed to the road rash with the soap-laden cloth. “It hurt. Soap. Clean.”
Not exactly my most lucid speech but I could see the moment realization dawned on the overprotective biker. Sliding the gun back into its holster, he strode toward me.
This bathroom wasn’t built for two. Or at least, not if one of them was a huge, muscular biker.
Trapped between the counter and his delectable frame, my body started to want things it hadn’t had in a very long time.
Like sex. Hot, naked, yummy sex. Probably didn’t help that all I was wearing was a towel.
Admittedly a big, fluffy towel, but if it were to slip off…
I reined in my overactive libido. He was here because he felt some kind of duty toward me. He thought of me as an obligation. Someone he needed to look after because they’d gotten in over their heads.
That sure put a damper on my lust. The one thing I did not want from this big bad biker was pity.
A deadpan expression on his face, Deuce grasped my wrist and tugged gently, stretching my arm out to expose the raw road rash. No longer pinned in place on that side, the towel started to slip.
I gasped and grabbed at it, managing to snag the material before it slid too far.
I looked up, but the biker’s attention was on my wounded arm. Picking up the facecloth, he rinsed most of the soap out of it before gently stroking it back and forth across the raw flesh, removing the debris left behind by the brutal contact with the road.
I didn’t quite manage to stifle a whimper as he cleansed a particularly painful spot. His eyes snapped to mine. “They won’t ever hurt you again.”
I recalled the sound of gunfire, but I didn’t ask him to elaborate. Maybe he’d killed George. Maybe he’d killed the second guy. Or maybe he’d just scared the hell out of them. Either way, I was okay with it, but I didn’t need details.
I dipped my head, peering up at him through my lashes. “Thank you.”
Deuce nodded curtly and continued to minister to my arm. When he was satisfied it was clean, he found some salve in the medicine cabinet and applied a liberal amount before covering it with a layer of gauze and taping it in place.
“That should do it.” He placed a finger under my chin, tilting it up. “Keep an eye on it. If it starts to get infected, you’ll need antibiotics.”
I bit my lower lip. The increase in my heart rate had nothing to do with the thought of an infection. “Okay. I can go to a clinic if I need to.”
He shook his head. “Call me. We have a medic. He can get antibiotics for you.”
“You have a medic? You… who?”
That lopsided grin made my heart skip a beat. It should be illegal for someone so wrong for me to be so damned attractive. “The club. Riptide. Bikers, remember? We have a medic who takes care of us when we need it.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “You get hurt a lot?” I clutched the towel tighter, aware that I was all but naked with a stranger in my home. The fact that it didn’t bother me might be something I needed to consider. Later. When I was alone. Again.
Maybe I should consider getting a cat.
That irresistible grin widened. “Not a lot, but it’s handy when we do.
Joker was part of our team in the SEALs, and he joined us when we landed stateside.
” Deuce pivoted and stepped out of the tiny bathroom.
“Tea’s in the living room. I’ll head down there while you get something on.
We can play twenty questions in comfort. ”
“You’re not leaving?” I needed him to confirm it. I did not want to be alone. I’d left a message for Janet to come over, but if she’d found someone to amuse her, chances were she wouldn’t be home till dawn.
“Not until your friend shows up.” He paused and glanced back at me. “Are you okay with that?”
“Sure.” I lowered my head to hide the sudden heat that filled my cheeks at the thought of Deuce sleeping over.
Not that he meant it that way. Or any way.
I needed to get my mind out of the gutter.
He probably had attractive women throwing themselves at him all the time.
Hell, just because he didn’t have a ring on didn’t mean there wasn’t a wife and a couple of kids waiting for him at home.
He just felt responsible for me because I’d practically fallen into his lap.
Maybe a dog would be better than a cat. I’d have to give the idea of a pet some serious thought. I doubted I’d venture back onto dating apps anytime soon.
* * *
Clean and dressed in comfy flannel pajamas, I pulled on my housecoat before I checked Deuce’s phone.
He’d left it with me so I’d see if Janet texted me back.
She had, but it wasn’t the news I wanted to hear.
She wasn’t coming over. She was gone for the night.
Since I hadn’t revealed anything in my message suggesting it was urgent, I couldn’t blame her.
She probably thought I was just bored and wanted some company.
Now that I was safely home, I was starting to feel a little sheepish. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about the whole thing yet, not even with my BFF.
I headed to the living room. Deuce sat on the sofa with his legs splayed out in front of him. A teapot and two mugs sat on a tray on the coffee table, with a plate of cheese and crackers beside it.
The man appeared to have a domestic streak, which clashed wildly with my mental image of him as a dangerous biker. He stood when he heard me enter the room.
He lifted one brow. “You hear from your friend yet?”
I nodded. “Yeah. She’s not coming. She’s out for the night.”
He lifted one brow. “I thought she was your BFF. As in cover your butt, be there when you need her kind of friend.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t exactly tell her what happened. I just asked her to come watch an old movie with me.”
He gave me a quizzical look but let the subject drop. “I’ll stay the night then. You shouldn’t be alone.”
I frowned, not sure what to say.
He held up one hand. “I’ll behave. I promise. I can sleep on the couch.”
Although being alone normally didn’t bother me, having someone stay sounded like a great idea tonight. Since I didn’t want to drag my dad into this mess, Deuce was the next best choice. He’d already demonstrated his ability to make the bad guys turn tail and run.
“I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets.”
“I can get them. You sure you’re okay with leaving the cops out of this?”
Probably picked up from my dad, but I had a distrust of authority figures in general and that included law enforcement. “What if they’re in on it? Cops can be bought, right?”
He gave me a quizzical look. “You sound like you’ve had some dealings with them that didn’t turn out so well.”
I shook my head. “No. Not really. Just hearsay and listening to my dad talk. He doesn’t have much faith in them.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Your choice, but you can sleep on it and decide in the morning. Not like they’re going to do much about it tonight anyway.”
Relief flooded through me. I really didn’t want to deal with anyone right now, and I didn’t want to argue about it. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll go get you that bedding now.”
Deuce shook his head. “Not necessary. Just tell me where and I’ll get it myself. You sit and drink your tea. I made decaf Earl Grey. Something warm in your belly will help you sleep.”
This guy was almost too nice to be real. How come I never met anyone like him on the damn dating apps? I smiled gratefully and reached for one of the mugs. “There’s a linen closet at the top of the stairs to the left.”
Deuce turned and left the room, and I heard his footsteps ascending the stairs.
The man was not light on his feet. He returned moments later, his arms full of bedding.
He tossed it on the overstuffed chair on the far side of the room.
Plucking one of the blankets out of the stack, he spread it over me and tucked it in.
Picking up the other mug, he tossed the remote control to me. “So what are we watching?”
I crinkled my nose. “An old favorite of mine. Darlin’ Bride .”
* * *
Deuce