Chapter 3 Noelle
Torque followed me home. He’s not riding a motorcycle, which makes sense in this weather, but I’m almost disappointed.
I wanted to see him riding through the blustery snow with his black leather jacket, defiant against the weather, his chin lifted with pride as he glided across the wet pavement.
A romantic notion probably conjured from all the smutty novels I read.
Seriously, I have an addiction.
It’s for research—work-related intel. I’m an author, so I can claim it.
Of course, I write small-town romance with humor and spice. It’s different from what I read, but I find inspiration in all types of books. You have to fill the creative well, or it dries up, and no one enjoys a book that’s dull or forced.
I click the remote on my visor, and my garage door opens before I pull to a stop and shut down the engine.
Ainsley is already asleep in the backseat.
I glance at her, and my heart squeezes. I could have lost her tonight.
I’ve never been so frightened in my life.
I thought my heart might jump right out of my chest.
My sister would have killed me. Legit murder. I would have let her.
When I grab my purse and backpack and open the door, I see Torque standing at the edge of the garage, just outside the line.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” I gesture to my car. “She’s asleep.”
“Need any help?”
Actually, yeah. “Yes. If you can grab this stuff for me, I’ll unlock the door.”
He strides toward me and reaches for my things, holding them as I push the key into the lock. Once it’s open, I gesture for him to enter.
“You can set those on the kitchen counter.”
“Sounds good.”
He enters the house as I click the garage door closed. Only a minute later, I’m carrying Ainsley inside. I settle her on the couch and cover her with a blanket. The house is warm compared to the garage, but I still shiver.
Torque closes the garage door for me and notices my reaction. “Hot cocoa?”
“You know it.” I join him in the kitchen and go to the little station I keep stocked year-round.
There’s a sign that reads “Hot Cocoa Bar” that I bought from Hobby Lobby, and cute little ceramic dishes with matching lids.
Each one is labeled with Marshmallows, Chocolate Chips, Sprinkles, and Candy Canes.
I keep a few containers of various hot cocoa mixes along with flavored syrups, creamers, and chocolate spoons for stirring.
There are whole candy canes, too, instead of the chopped ones in the ceramic dish.
“Wow,” Torque observes. “I think I might have underestimated your dedication.”
“I’m very serious about my cocoa,” I inform him.
“Well, school me, baby. What’s the best combo?”
I ignore the slight flutter of delight in my belly from his endearment and reach for a big mug from my rack above the hot chocolate bar. There are over two dozen mugs, and they’re all my favorites. Tonight, he gets Snoopy. I’m glad he doesn’t comment on it.
“The trick is milk instead of water, steaming but not boiling the liquid,” I explain.
He nods, listening intently.
“I’ll show you.” I get to work, gathering pure vanilla extract, chocolate, brown sugar, salt, and cold milk from the fridge. “This is my personal recipe that I’ve perfected. It’s the creamiest, silkiest version.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“It is.”
He watches me mix the ingredients in a pan on the stove. “So, no instant cocoa?”
“Sometimes. Today, you get special treatment.” I wink at him, flirting without giving it much thought. “During the holidays, I make a big batch and add it to a crockpot. It’s a family favorite every Christmas.”
He leans against my counter, looking relaxed, and like he’s been here a hundred times before now. “Do you have a big family?”
“I do. My sister and Ainsley live about five minutes away. My parents are in Miamisburg. Most of my family is spread throughout Ohio.”
“Any other siblings?”
“Yeah, my brother, but he doesn’t come around much.” I shrug. It’s his loss. You can’t make people stay in contact or visit. That’s on them. I tried plenty of times, only to receive continual excuses. “It’s a shame. Jack doesn’t know Ainsley well.”
“He’s missing out. She’s adorable.”
“We both agree on that.” I finish the hot cocoa, pour him a nearly full mug leaving just enough room for goodies, and slide it toward him. “Now is the critical part.”
“Toppings?” he guesses.
“Yep. Are you a marshmallow guy? Peppermint? Or just the plain cocoa?”
He grins. “Before I answer that, do you have whipped cream?”
I like where this is headed. “I sure do.” What girl doesn’t have whipped cream around the holidays?
He watches me reach into the fridge and pull out a spray can of creamy goodness. “Whipped cream, a few sprinkles, peppermint, and marshmallows.”
I smack a hand over my heart. “That just might be the best combo in creation.”
“It is,” he insists.
I add his toppings and slide the mug across to him, watching with anticipation as he takes a sip.
“Wow.” He swallows and then drinks more as whipped cream paints his upper lip. “This just might be the most delicious cup of hot cocoa I’ve ever had in my life.”
“I know. It’s incredible, right?”
His dark eyes almost twinkle with amber glitter. “I’m officially spoiled.”
“Good.” I make my own cup and gesture to the kitchen table. “Have a seat. We can talk in here without waking up Ainsley.”
Torque sits across from me as we reach the table, drinking from his mug with enthusiasm. “I think this is where we get to know a little more about each other.”
I grab the container of freshly baked chocolate chip and snickerdoodle cookies and pop the lid off. When I scoot it his way, he snatches a few, clearly not shy about his sweet tooth. “Sure. What do you do besides ride motorcycles, help find lost children, and strut around in leather?”
I’m shamelessly into him, but also cautious. This is nice. He seems like a great guy.
But I’m not jumping into a relationship or dating a bad boy.
It’s fine with the books I read and even the ones I write.
In real life? I want someone steady, dependable, and hardworking.
The type of guy who’s not going to rush out the door, and I won’t have a clue what he’s doing, who he’s with, and whether or not it’s legal.
I’m grateful for his help, but I don’t intend to see him after today.
Torque’s deep laugh makes me smile wider. “I work on custom bikes at Blade Auto Repair, and I’m also a tattoo artist for Summit Ink.” He gestures to his arms. “I’ve got an addiction too.”
“I can see that.”
Torque finishes the cookies and his cocoa, setting down his empty mug. “What do you do, beautiful?”
I blink. It’s like that one word just short-circuited my brain. No guy has ever called me beautiful the way he just did. Certainly not with the same deep timbre and gritty charm.
Before I can answer, his phone vibrates inside his leather vest.
“Sorry. I need to check this.”
I nod as he reaches for his cell, checks the screen, and frowns.
“I’ve got to go, darlin’. Duty calls.”
Duty? I must appear as confused as I feel.
“That’s the life I lead. When the pres calls us to church, we drop everything.”
Church? “I’m guessing it’s not an actual church.”
“No, babe. It’s not.” He doesn’t elaborate. “I wish I had more time,” he admits as he stands. “Come here.”
It’s softly spoken, but still an order. I hesitate.
“Sweetheart, I just want to kiss those lips before I walk out this door. If you’re not wanting anything more, tell me now. I won’t waste our time.”
I’m so surprised that he went there, this fast, that I push to my feet and nearly stumble toward him. I don’t want to get involved in anything serious, but I also hate the idea of never seeing him again. After all, he’s been nothing but a gentleman so far. He helped find my niece.
I can trust him. Right?
Torque’s hands lift and slide along my neck, parking against my skin with callouses that somehow make him feel more alive than anything I’ve experienced in a long time. His fingertips rest behind my ears as he tilts my head back, and his thumbs gently caress the skin from my chin to my mouth.
“You’re gonna become my obsession, beautiful,” he declares right before his lips meet mine.
Meet isn’t the right word. They crash and consume. I expected a soft kiss. Maybe exploratory.
This isn’t gentle or chaste or anything other than hungry and searching.
His tongue pushes through the seam of my lips as he sweeps inside, tasting me, getting traces of hot cocoa like I am, and he groans.
It’s a sound that reaches all the way to my toes, and I don’t know how I’m still standing because I feel like jelly.
My bones and muscles stop functioning because my brain is wholly focused on the biker who is marking me with his lips, tongue, and even his teeth. A little nibble on my lips proves it.
When he finally drops his hands and steps back, I have to stretch out a palm against the wall to remain upright.
A smug grin proves he knows how his kiss affects me. “Give me your phone, baby.”
I don’t think my brain is working correctly as I pull it from my pocket.
“Unlock it so I can give you my number.”
I do as he says, still dazed as he enters his number.
“Call me so I can add you to my contacts.”
Once I’ve done that, he closes in. “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, my sweet Noelle, you should know I’m going to do everything in my power to claim you.”
Claim? What does that mean to a biker?
Clearly, I’m struggling because I blurt out a response. “No other women.”
“Done.” He doesn’t hesitate.
“I hate cheaters,” I admit.
“We have that in common, beautiful.” He leans down to kiss my forehead. “You’ll hear from me soon.”
And just like that, Torque walks out my door. As I sink into my chair, I know I’m not going to be able to resist him. I’ll try. It’ll be my best effort.
But. . . I’ll totally fail.
I’M STILL SEATED AT the table when the front door opens, and my sister enters.
“Hey, girls!”
Ainsley jumps up from the couch and runs toward Amy. “Mommy!”
It’s uncanny how she can go from a deep sleep to being wide awake within a few heartbeats. I’m almost envious of how quickly she can fall asleep and then bounce back. I wish I could.
“I got lots today,” Ainsley tells my sister.
Oops.
I forgot to text Amy. In my defense, I had a hell of a distraction since it happened.
“What?” Amy asks. “Noelle?”
I push away from the table and walk into the living room. “Yeah. We had a little incident at the mall today, but she’s fine,” I rush to explain. “I threw away our trash, and Ainsley didn’t wait for me.”
Amy looks at her daughter. “What have I said about staying close to Auntie Noelle?”
Ainsley pouts. “But I wanted to see Santa.”
“You always wait for an adult.” She smooths her hand over Ainsley’s hair. “You’re precious to me. I love you so much. I don’t want any bad guys to hurt you.”
Ainsley flashes a bright smile. “A biker helped Auntie Noah. He’s got big muscles.” She curves her palm over her arm to show Amy. “And lots of pictures on his skin.”
Amy blinks. “Pictures?”
“Tattoos,” I explain.
“Oh.” She frowns. “Wait. You said a biker helped you?”
“Torque and a few of his club members. Summit Hill Vipers.” I shrug. “They were nice.”
“Uh, okay.” She glances at her daughter. “Do you need to go potty before we leave?”
Ainsley nods.
“Go on, babygirl. I’ll wait for you.”
Ainsley runs toward the bathroom, and I hear her struggle with the toilet lid and the princess-themed toilet seat I bought her for when she comes over. It prevents her from falling in and making messes. Amy has a similar one at her place.
“Tell me about this biker.”
Her tone surprises me. “He gave up his table for us at the food court, and then I ran into him when I lost Ainsley for a few minutes. He helped find her.”
Her gaze lands on my kitchen table. “Did he come here?”
“Yes. He followed us because of the weather.”
My sister shakes her head. “He’s a stranger, Noe. That might be dangerous.”
Yeah, I didn’t think that through. “He has my number, too.” I wince at her sharp look. “Hey, I’ll be careful. I’ve got a great security system, remember?”
My sister snorts. “Like that would stop an outlaw.”
I don’t tell her she’s probably right. I also don’t mention the kiss. “Sorry for today. Nothing like that will ever happen again.”
“Hey, I know. I’m not upset with you.” She sighs. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea. I thought I would have a panic attack.”
“I did,” she admits. “Never told you before now, but I lost her once. Terrified me so badly I shook for hours afterward.”
My jaw drops. Amy? The perfect mom? “Wow.”
She pulls me in for a hug. “I love you. Thanks for always being there for us.”
“Of course! I love you both.”
“I know.”
I walk with her to the door and hug my niece before they both leave, plunging my little two-bedroom house into silence. I love the quiet. It’s how I can get so many words in and finish books as quickly as I do. Living alone facilitates a healthy working environment for me.
I enjoy it. I really do.
But . . . sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out. If I should go out more and embrace my wild side.
I’m a good girl who always does the right thing. Responsible. Perfect credit score.
About the only indulgence I have is my sweet tooth.
Would it be so bad to find out if Torque is the guy who can help me find balance in my overly organized and bland life?