Fanning the Biker's Flame - Piper Davenport Page 0,2
He’ll know how to fix it.”
I sighed. “And how much will this cost me?”
“He’ll take care of you, honey. I promise. He won’t rip you off.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too, Mama,” I said, and hung up.
I glanced around my kitchen and tried not to cry. A little smoke damage was an understatement and I felt like I might throw up. Instead, I turned off the light and walked out of the room.
* * *
Shadow
“Shadow!” Doom called through my door, his meaty fist banging on it.
“Jesus,” I hissed, knuckling my eyes. “What the fuck, Doom?”
“You up?”
I dragged my ass out of bed and pulled the door open. “I wasn’t. What the fuck, brother?”
“Dad needs someone to check out a job for him. You want it? It’s for a friend, so he needs someone who’ll be… ah, nice.”
Despite the fact Doom had married one of the sweetest and prettiest women on the planet, he still scared a lot of people, so I found I was asked to do things where people needed to be finessed and charmed. Plus, Doom’s dad paid better than most when it came to ‘jobs,’ and since I was banking every penny, I decided it was a good idea, even if I was wrecked.
“Yeah. Text me the details.”
Doom gave me a chin lift and I closed the door again, heading for the shower. Once I was dressed, I headed downstairs and grabbed a cup of coffee, checking my phone for the information about the job.
I stalled.
Then I laughed.
Well, shit. This was gonna be fun.
I climbed on my bike and headed down to the Bowery.
* * *
Posey
Apparently, Mom’s friend was out of town, so he was sending one of his ‘people’ to assess the damage and give me a quote.
Great. One more person to whom I have to tell my humiliating story.
I took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of yoga pants and T-shirt. I piled my hair on top of my head, forgoing makeup since there was no way in hell I’d have enough foundation to hide my embarrassment, so what was the point?
I had just pulled a soda out of the fridge when my doorbell rang. I checked the peephole, but the man’s face was turned away, so I inched the door open. “Hello?”
“I’m here to give you a quote on your kitchen,” he said, and raised his head.
I gasped. “You’re a firefighter.”
He smiled. “I am. But today I’m here to check your damage.”
“Do you have identification?”
He handed me a laminated card, complete with his photo and the name of the construction company.
Nolan Grant. Sexy, strong. Of course his name would fit him perfectly.
I nodded and opened the door all the way. “Come in.”
He stepped inside and headed straight for my kitchen, pulling out his phone and a tape measure. “Is your landlord paying for this?” he asked.
I snorted. “Ah. No. I am.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“It was my screw up, so it’s my responsibility,” I explained.
“Right.”
He took some measurements and then recorded those measurements on his phone.
“Do you like being a firefighter?” I asked, filling up the silence.
“Yeah.”
“But you have a side hustle as a contractor?”
“Yeah.” His fingers flew over his phone as he focused on his work.
“Right.”
My phone buzzed and I answered without looking at the screen.
Rookie move.
“Hello?” I said, distractedly.
“Hey, pumpkin.”
“Oh, god.” I nearly threw up in my mouth. “Don’t call me that.”
“You love that,” Carl argued.
“I don’t love that. I’ve never loved it,” I snapped. “What do you want, Carl?”
“I just thought, since you’ve had some time to cool off, that we could go to dinner. Talk.”
“About what?”
“Us.”
“Oh, my word, Carl, there is no us.”
“I think if you just let me explain—”
“You rammed your dick in Monique Batemen, Carl, there’s nothing for you to explain.”
“Had you been more attent—”
I let out a frustrated groan and stabbed at the screen, hanging up on him.
“You okay?” Nolan asked.
I dragged my hands over my scalp. “Golden.”
“Okay, I got what I need,” he said, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Sterling will email you with a quote no later than Tuesday.”
I bit my lip and nodded. “I have less than three weeks to get this fixed. Do you think that’s unrealistic?”
He shook his head. “Shouldn’t be an issue. I can give you my cell in case you don’t hear from Sterling.”
“That’d be great,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Give me your phone.”
I handed it to him, and he added his information to my contacts, then he walked out the door. I locked the