13. Brick
13
brICK
I’ve been trying not to stare at her all night, and failing miserably.
Rowan moves through the crowd like she’s done it a thousand times before, leather pants hugging curves that shouldn’t be legal. Her top rides up whenever she reaches for something, revealing a slice of toned stomach and a navel I’m having inappropriate thoughts about. I want to trace my tongue around that little indent.
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me?
I force my attention back to the betting table, adding another stack to Maddox’s race. My brother’s good—one of the best riders I’ve seen—but it looks like I’m not here for him tonight because my mind keeps drifting back to our baker.
Friday nights at the track are supposed to be my escape. No garage paperwork, no diner supply issues, no charity foundation plans still sitting half-formed in my desk drawer. Just engines, speed, and the simplicity of machines pushed to their limits. But tonight, with Rowan here, I can’t focus on anything else.
Maddox should never have brought her. She’s already got him wrapped around her finger, and Ryder’s even worse—watching her like she’s some puzzle he’s desperate to solve. I’m not getting tangled up in that mess. When I want a woman, I want her to myself. I don’t share, not even with my brothers.
Especially not with my brothers.
The crowd roars as the current race wraps up. I register dimly that Maddox won again, but my eyes are tracking Rowan as she cheers alongside everyone else. The genuine smile lighting up her face transforms her from merely beautiful to something that makes my chest ache. Her head tips back as she laughs at something Evie says, exposing the elegant line of her throat, and my fingers itch to trace that curve.
My mind supplies unhelpful images of peeling those pants off, following those fat ass cheeks with my tongue until she’s trembling and begging. I should slap myself for thinking this way about a woman—a woman who works for us, for Christ’s sake.
“You betting on the next one?” Kip asks, breaking my train of thought.
“Nah.” I shake my head, turning away from where Rowan stands. “Think I’m done for the night.”
“Too bad. Ayla’s running, and she’s looking good.”
I grunt noncommittally. Ayla’s a hell of a rider, but I’m not in the mood for more races. I need air, space to clear my head before I do something stupid like join my brothers in their obvious pursuit.
The night air is cooler away from the crowd, carrying the scent of pine and exhaust. I check my phone, finding three missed calls from Teller. The special ringtone for club business was drowned out by the track noise. Probably about the meeting tomorrow. Nothing that can’t wait until morning.
“You alright?” Ryder appears beside me.
“Fine.” I pocket my phone. “Just needed a break from the noise.”
My brother’s gaze is too perceptive, but thankfully, he doesn’t push. “Maddox wants to head out soon. His last race is done.”
“I’ll meet you at the bikes.”
He nods and melts back into the crowd, leaving me to my thoughts. I give myself another minute to get my head straight before following. By the time I reach the parking area, Maddox is already there with Rowan, both still riding the high of the races.
“Great night,” Maddox is saying, his arm slung casually around Rowan’s shoulders. “Told you you’d enjoy it.”
“It was decent,” she admits, but her bright eyes and flushed cheeks tell a different story. She thrives on this environment—the energy, the competition, the edge of danger. It’s written all over her.
“Ready to head out?” I ask, approaching the bikes.
“Almost.” Maddox grins at me over Rowan’s head. “Princess here was just telling me she’s curious about our backup bikes.”
Rowan rolls her eyes at the nickname. “I was asking how your bikes are coming along, actually.”
“Should be ready by Monday,” I answer, unlocking my helmet. “Final paint details and we’re good to go.”
“That’s good.” She nods, but her eyes drift to our current rides with undisguised interest. “I’m glad.”
“You want to try it out, don’t you?” Maddox teases, catching her look.
I expect denial, but instead, she meets his gaze steadily. “Actually, yeah. I do.”
“Ever thought about getting your own?” I find myself asking. “Since you’ll be here long-term with the bakery.”
“I’ve thought about it.” Her fingers trail along the handlebars of Maddox’s bike with practiced familiarity. “But I’d need to save up more first.”
“You could borrow one of these once we get our main rides back,” Maddox offers. “For work commutes.”
I shoot him a look. These bikes aren’t toys to be loaned out casually, even to someone who’s becoming increasingly important to the diner’s success. But Rowan’s face lights up at the suggestion.
“Seriously?” She looks between us, excitement breaking through her usually guarded expression. “You’d let me use one?”
“If you can handle it,” I say, not wanting to commit to my brother’s impulsive offer. “These aren’t beginner bikes.”
A look crosses her face—something like amusement mixed with irritation. “I can handle it,” she says quietly. “Mind if I show you?”
Before I can respond, she’s swinging her leg over Maddox’s bike with the ease of someone who’s done it countless times. Her hands find the grips naturally, knees settling against the tank like she’s fitting into a second skin. Nothing about her positioning reads “amateur.”
“Keys?” she asks, holding out her hand to Maddox.
He hesitates, looking to me. I shrug. We’re in an empty corner of the parking lot, and she’s clearly not a complete novice.
“Don’t wreck it,” he warns, dropping the keys into her palm.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The smile she gives him makes something hot uncoil in my stomach.
She starts the bike with practiced precision, letting it warm up before shifting her weight. The engine purrs beneath her, and she rolls forward slowly, taking a wide circle around us to get the feel of the machine.
“Not bad,” Ryder comments from beside me, his voice neutral. But I can see the appreciation in his eyes—not just for her body straddling the bike, but for the skill in her movements.
She makes another circuit, faster this time, her body leaning into the turns with natural grace. Then, with a quick glance to ensure the area is clear, she shifts, throttles forward, and pulls up.
The front wheel lifts off the ground effortlessly, hovering at the perfect height as she rides a controlled wheelie for several yards before smoothly bringing it back down. Not a flashy stunt, but one that requires genuine skill and confidence.
“Holy shit,” Maddox mutters beside me.
Across the lot, I notice we’ve drawn attention. Evie stands with her daughters, the younger one—Violet, I think—pointing excitedly at Rowan’s display.
Rowan completes another circuit before bringing the bike to a stop in front of us and killing the engine. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright with a joy I haven’t seen from her before.
“So,” she says, casual as can be, “can I borrow it sometimes?”
Maddox bursts out laughing. “Hell yes, you can.”
Even Ryder nods, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might be a smile.
“We’ll see,” I say, trying to maintain some authority.
Her smile falters slightly. “You’ll take it back once my debt’s paid?”
The hint of disappointment in her voice hits me unexpectedly. “I didn’t say that. We’ll figure something out when the time comes.”
“Really?” She brightens instantly. “You’re not messing with me?”
“Get it in writing, princess,” Maddox advises with a grin. “Brick here can be a hardass about contracts.”
She surprises us all by launching forward and throwing her arms around me in a spontaneous hug. “Thank you!”
Her body presses against mine, soft curves meeting hard muscle, her scent—vanilla mixed with leather and night air—filling my lungs. My hands move to her waist automatically, and for one dangerous moment, I contemplate pulling her closer.
Before I can act on the impulse, she’s released me and moved to hug Maddox, then—more hesitantly—Ryder. My body feels colder where she was pressed against it seconds ago.
“We should head out,” I say, voice rougher than intended.