Hammer (Heartlands Motorcycle Club #9) - Dani Wyatt Page 0,6

done, you understand?”

She shoves her robin’s-egg-blue laundry basket on top of one of the stainless steel tables, and starts grabbing things and sorting them with her brows drawn tight and her jaw clenched. When she looks pissed, my cock gets hard instantly. I love that she’s a take no shit kinda girl, and her pushing back on me only makes me more insane for her.

“I was here first.” I raise my eyebrows on a shrug and she shakes her head and keeps sorting. She’s wearing the same tank top as earlier but now has on a pair of tight jeans which show off her ass a little too well. Her red hair hangs down over one shoulder in waves, parted down the middle like she just fucking wakes up looking this way which she probably does.

“True.” She keeps her eyes down, taking her laundry out in already color-separated bunches, setting them next to each other on the tabletop. “But still. It’s getting creepy, you just sort of ‘showing up’ all the time.”

“Yeah, you sort of said that earlier today.”

I want to chastise her. I mean, fuck, it’s the middle of the night. Anyone could be in her or come in here and the thought of someone hurting her, especially after that shit earlier today, makes me more than on edge.

“Exactly.” She squints one eye at me, pointing a cute as fuck finger my way. “Earlier today. See? Creeper.”

I see her fight the smile as she calls me the name, and I sniff, fighting off my own inner conflict about making a hard move on this creature that’s invaded my heart.

The problem is, I’ve never felt this sort of tug towards anyone before. Like she is something I’ve been wishing for, but never believed would happen. Except, I’ve never wished for whatever this is. Romance and love were never on my radar, and since running from back east, they aren’t now for sure.

“You want me to change my name?”

“What?” She screws up her face, then gathers a pile of white clothes and shoves them into a washing machine, then tosses in her soap pod thing and shoves four quarters into the slot. A moment later, the hum of her machine joins mine.

“My name. From Hammer to Creeper.”

She releases this pseudo-exasperated huff but I see the sparkle in her golden brown eyes, and for fuck sake there’s this feeling in my gut like flickery or flippy, and I have to grit my teeth to distract myself. I’ve clearly been reading too much Jane Austen.

“I find both names a tad sophomoric.” She licks her bottom lip and the sight of her tongue swiping along the plump pink flesh only hardens me more.

Her eyes drift to where my hand is still holding onto my open book, and something changes in her face. There’s a recognition, then something pleasant happens.

She smiles, then says, “And I expect more from you.”

I pull my lips to my teeth then fight back my own smile, swiping my index finger under my eye on a nod. I could tell her my real name, which has its own irony. No one here in Seneca knows it but it’s too risky, so I deflect with an answer I hope will end the query on names. “I like that.”

I run my hand down my face and step in her direction, setting the book down on her table, then hop up and sit on the next sorting table, watching as she fills up four more machines, each with a pile of neatly separated color-specific piles of clothes.

After she gets all the machines running, she turns my way, meeting my eyes, then lets them run down my chest to my boots and back up.

“I like to come this time of night. I use a lot of washing machines and I don’t like waiting. I like to start them all at the same time, then put them in dryers at the same time and finish at the same time. There’s not enough machines in my building and I always have to wait for one. I like efficiency.”

I nod. “Lemme guess…Choleric?”

I watch her swallow as she tips her head and studies me for a moment.

“You study philosophy?”

“I just read. A lot.”

“I see.” She juts a hip out and crosses her arms, making her tits push upward and creasing her cleavage in the scoop neck of her white tank top. “You are a study in contradictions.”

“Don’t judge a book and all that.”

She rubs her lips together, then pushes

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