The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,27

place, his pantry will need to be stocked, so I take my time loading up the cart with food.

When I roll out of the store with an overflowing trolley and navigate to my X6 in the parking lot, I find the doors are locked. With my windows being heavily tinted, I’m unable to see inside. Lightly, I wrap my knuckles on the window and a few seconds later the tattooed biker opens the passenger door with red eyes and a shameless yawn.

I can’t help laughing. "Were you sleeping?"

"You took forever," he complains as he wrestles out of the car to help me unload the groceries. "Woman, you bought the whole damn store or what?"

"You'll thank me later,” I repeat his earlier words.

With the trunk already packed to the brim with the items we purchased from the home department store, we resort to packing the grocery bags on the backseats and floor.

Once we're done, Scratch slumps back against the car and pulls me up against him. "Can we go get something to eat now? Please?"

"Sure. But we have to get back and put the cold things in the fridge first."

An aggravated noise rumbles in his throat. "For shit's sake."

I can't stop laughing as I peck him on the lips then hop in the car and start it up.

When we get back to the house, Cookie is outside watering her flowers with one hand while sipping liquor from the other.

Scratch gets out of the car and sniffs the air. "Whoa, something smells… Is that you, Cookie?"

She laughs. "Lamb stew and baked potatoes. You hungry?"

“Yhhessss. Oh Lord, yes.” He jabs an accusing finger at me. "This one's been starving me."

Oh, for crying out loud. "You ate all my macaroons!"

"I'm a grown-ass man with two hundred pounds of pure muscle. You think a handful of girl scout cookies can sustain me?"

I roll my eyes. "God, you're such a whiner."

Cookie laughs again. "I'll bring some over in a bit."

Scratch and I spend the next few minutes emptying the car of bags upon bags. Afterwards, while I pack the groceries out into the pantry and fridge, Scratch slumps against the wall and slides down to the floor, clutching his stomach as if he's dying.

"You are so stinking dramatic," I say through a laugh.

He beckons me with two fingers. "C'mere."

I pack the last of the fruits in the fridge before walking over to him. Grabbing my wrist, he tugs me down so I'm on his lap, then presses his face into my neck. "I like being with you. Even when you're starving me."

"I have to leave in a bit. But I'll come by after my shift tomorrow and put up the curtains and stuff for you."

"Stay with me tonight."

"I...I can't."

He lifts his head from the curve of my neck and narrows his eyes at me. "You did hear me when I said I'm not sharing you, right?"

"Scratch..."

"If you don't make a move about that shit soon, I will," he threatens.

Through clenched teeth, I hiss, "It's none of your business."

I attempt to pull away from him, but he locks his muscles around me and keeps me in place. “You haven’t been paying attention, Ley? You are my business."

In the next second his tongue is rubbing against mine as he kisses me into submission. Helpless against him, I melt and sigh into his kiss, desirous heat stinging me all over. I love his taste, his lips, his confidence, the dominance of his kiss. I love the way my stomach flutters when he touches me, how heady his kisses make me.

"Ahem."

We break apart, heads whipping to the open front door.

Cookie stands over the threshold with three Tupperware containers. "Five years later,” she says as she strolls inside and sets the containers on the breakfast bar, “and this is finally happening."

Scrambling up off Scratch’s lap, I stand and straighten my blouse. "What?"

"You’ve always had it for each other. Bad," she explains. "I'd wondered if it would ever happen. Then this one went off to war and I thought, ‘guess not.’"

Really?

Scratch jumps up and beelines to the bar, popping the lids of the Tupperware. "Food," he groans with appreciation. Then unwraps the cutlery and digs in, moaning at the first bite.

For the umpteenth time today, I roll my eyes at him. He’s too damn extra.

Cookie glances around. "You've got nowhere to sit."

"We—um, Scratch bought a couch set today. It's being delivered in a few days."

"And what else?"

"A TV-stand and coffee table."

She ambles around the empty space, assessing. "I've got a bunch of