His cologne is delicious, a mixture of spice and citrus that has me wanting to melt into him.
But I stand still.
He looks like he wants to say something, but then he shakes his head and leaves the room.
I release the breath I’m holding.
FIFTEEN
SO,” I say a little awkwardly. How does one make small talk with a biker? It’s easy with Rake and Tracker, but the rest of them are a little trickier. I don’t really know anything about Wolf, or Vinnie, which is what all the women call him, other than the fact that he looks pretty young, has a shaved head, is handsome in a masculine way, and has dark eyes.
He glances my way but doesn’t say anything. He’s probably still angry I told him I wanted to drive and didn’t give in to him no matter how much he tried to intimidate me with his scowl, large size, and narrowed gaze.
“I’m sorry you were stuck tagging along for my errands. I had no idea that Rake was going to make you come with me when he said he’d fix up a few things at the house,” I say, nervously babbling to fill up the silence. “I don’t really know anything about you.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “Not much to tell. Club is my life; the men are my family. I don’t mind doing whatever needs to be done. I like to be useful.”
“Oh,” I say, thinking of something else I could ask to break the ice a little more. “What’s your favorite meal?”
He chuckles, and I find myself both liking the sound and relaxing a little.
“You gonna cook for me?” he asks, now sounding amused.
I shrug. “Sure. I mean, I’m thankful for everything you all do for me. I’d love to cook something for you.”
“I don’t think Rake will like that,” I hear him mutter under his breath, followed by a few more deep chuckles.
“He will have to deal,” I say quickly, making him laugh some more.
“My favorite meal is lasagna with breaded chicken,” he finally says. “I don’t like the tomato bits in the lasagna though.”
I make a face. “Lasagna with breaded chicken breast? Isn’t that a little weird?”
He sighs, but I see his lips twitching. “Typical woman. Ask me a question, then complain about the answer.”
I smile at that.
A few minutes later, when I drive past my house and see a few of the neighbors on my front lawn, I have to wonder what the hell is going on.
“What’s this about?” I ask Vinnie.
He lowers his head to look out the window. “I have no fuckin’ clue, let’s go and find out.”
He gets out of the car but grabs my arm when I try to walk ahead of him. Rolling my eyes, I walk behind him to the right, until we stop dead.
“What the fuck?” I hear him mutter, but his voice is filled with humor.
He lets go of my arm and I peer around him. What I see has my jaw dropping open. Rake is on a ladder, shirtless, cleaning out the gutters. All he has on is a pair of dark track pants, outlining his perfect ass. I look from Rake to the women, and then back to Rake. Does he not care that he’s being ogled by women double his age right now?
“Seriously?” I growl, much to Vinnie’s amusement.
Rake climbs down the ladder then and turns, lifting his chin when he sees Vinnie and me. From his face, I look farther down to his smooth chest, his cut abs, and then to the V that leads into his pants.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I notice I can actually see the outline of his penis in the track pants.
Even Vinnie looks away, saying grumpily, “More than I want to see of you, bro.”
“Okay, show’s over,” I say loudly, throwing evil looks at the groupies Rake has attracted. I walk up to the man himself and poke at his chest.
“Seriously?” I hiss.
“What?” he asks. “I did everything on the list.”
I point to the women who were slowly making their way off my grass. I’m sure snails move faster. “Did you not see them watching you and salivating?”
The bastard shrugs. “They’re harmless. Their husbands probably have beer guts and male-pattern baldness.”
My nostrils flare. “Get inside.”
“Why?” he asks, smirking and running his hand down his jaw. “You don’t like them seeing me?”
“Rake,” I say in a deathly quiet voice. “Get inside.”