20. Maddox
20
MADDOX
The garage feels empty by six, most customers gone, and tools cleaned for the day. My mind’s been elsewhere since dropping Rowan at the diner this morning—replaying the memory of watching her show off that custom bike to the early breakfast crowd, pride written all over her face.
The track outside town has been calling my name. It’s the perfect place to see what she can really do on that machine.
I shut off the lights and lock up, the night air cool against my face as I ride toward Black Dog Bites. Main Street is quiet; most shops are already closed. Through the glass wall, I see Rowan wiping down tables while Brick counts the register.
The bell chimes as I enter, and she looks up with a tired smile.
“Right on time,” Brick says without looking up from the cash drawer. “She’s all yours, but don’t stay out late.”
“Yes, Dad,” I say, earning a chuckle from her. “Ready to break in that new ride?” I ask, immediately noticing the fatigue in her eyes.
“Been ready all day,” she says, but a yawn betrays her.
“You okay, princess? We can do this another night if you’re tired.”
She blinks, looking almost surprised. “When did you start being considerate?”
“I’ve always been considerate,” I reply. “You just choose to only see me as a jerk.”
Rowan yawns again, this time not bothering to hide it. “Sorry. Long day.”
“C’mon,” I decide, “let’s get you home.”
“No, really, I want to test out the bike?—”
Her protest is cut short by a loud growl from her stomach. She flushes pink as I laugh.
“No way, princess. You’re going home right now. Got food there?”
She nods, relief clear in her expression. “There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge.”
“Perfect.” I glance at Brick. “Rain check on the track.”
Ryder emerges from the kitchen, nodding at me without a word. His gaze lingers on Rowan just a beat too long, but I push the thought aside.
She drives like she was born to it, handling the bike with ease and confidence. I hang back, letting her set the pace and watching how she takes each corner.
When we reach her building, she dismounts and turns to me. “Thanks for escorting me home. I’ll see you?—”
“Not a chance, princess,” I interrupt, holding out my hand. “Keys.”
She raises an eyebrow but hands them over. I sweep her into my arms before she can protest, cradling her against my chest.
“What are you doing?” she yelps, arms automatically wrapping around my neck.
“Carrying you upstairs,” I say like it’s obvious. “You’re dead on your feet.”
“I can walk!”
“Course you can. But you don’t have to.”
She stops arguing halfway up, her head dropping against my shoulder. I manage the lock one-handed at her door and carry her straight to the kitchen, setting her on a stool.
I kneel to untie her boots, slipping them off one by one. Her sock-covered feet look strangely vulnerable.
“You don’t need to do this,” she says softly. “I’m not an invalid.” She gives me a long look before sliding off the stool. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”
I nod, heading to her refrigerator while she disappears into her bedroom. The lasagna is right where she said it would be, neatly wrapped in a glass container. I pop it in the microwave and grab two plates from the cabinet.
When she returns, she’s wearing loose shorts and a crop top that shows a strip of skin at her midriff. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, making her look even more attractive.
I’ve already set the table with two plates of steaming lasagna. She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up.
“I take it you just want a free meal, don’t you?” She slides onto a stool.
“Well, the food’s just a bonus.” I sit beside her, my knee brushing against hers. “I’m actually here to eat you.”
Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t look away. “You’re terrible.”
“You have no idea, princess.” I take a bite of lasagna, maintaining eye contact. “This is just the appetizer.”
Her cheeks flush pink as she takes a seat. “I should have known.”
“Known what?”
“That you’d find a way to turn this into something else.”
We eat in comfortable silence until she sets her fork down.
“I think you’re complicated. All of you,” she says.
“Complicated how?”
“Like, you put on this show of being these tough, intimidating guys, but then you do something thoughtful, like customize a bike for someone who destroyed yours.”
I turn to face her fully. “Maybe we just like you.”
Her cheeks flush pink. “All of you?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
She looks down at her plate. “Kind of, yeah.”
I reach out, tilting her chin up so she has to meet my eyes. “Why?”
“Because I’m nothing special,” she says, so matter-of-factly it hurts. “Just a baker with a debt to pay.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, princess.” My voice comes out rougher than I intended. “You’re something else entirely.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I watch as her pupils dilate, the green darkening to emerald. My thumb traces her lower lip almost of its own accord.
“How was the diner today?” I ask, not moving my hand.
She swallows, her lips parting under my touch. “Busy. The usual.”
“Did you serve a lot of customers?”
Something in my tone makes her breath catch. “I…yes. Quite a few.”
“Did they watch you?” I move closer, my knee bumping hers. “As you moved between tables? As you bent over to wipe them clean?”
Understanding dawns in her darkening eyes. “Some of them, maybe.”
“I would have.” My voice drops lower. “If I’d been there. Would’ve watched you all day.”
“Maddox…” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“But they can only look,” I continue, sliding my hand to cup her cheek. “They don’t get to touch. Not like this.”
“We’re not at the diner now,” she says, but her body leans toward mine.
“We could be.” I brush my lips against her ear. “In a way. If you want.”
Her breath hitches. “What do you mean?”
“Imagine it,” I murmur. “The diner after hours. Everyone gone. Just you and me.”
“And what would we do?” Her voice has that breathless quality that makes my blood run hot.
“Whatever we want.” I trail my fingers down her neck, feeling her pulse race. “No one is watching, but there’s the thrill of knowing someone could walk in any minute.”
She shudders slightly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The risk of being caught.”
“I’d like you,” I correct, meeting her gaze. “Everywhere. Anywhere. But especially there, where you’ve been teasing me for weeks without even trying.”
“I haven’t been teasing you,” she protests weakly.
“Every time you bend over. Every time you reach up for something on a high shelf. Every time you lick the frosting from your fingers without realizing what it does to me.”
Her lips part, desire clear on her face. “Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“What you’ve imagined.” Her voice grows bolder. “What you’d do to me in the diner after hours.”
I pull her to her feet. “First, I’d clear a table. The one by the window.”
“Someone might see,” she breathes, playing along.
“That’s half the fun.” I back her against the counter, pressing against her. “I’d lift you onto it, just like this.”
I hoist her up in one motion, setting her on the counter and moving between her thighs. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer.