At the base of the freeway entrance, he stopped the bike. Greta was a mass of nerves. This whole night had been so freaking weird. She knew she should probably scream and run away. At least get off the bike. Maybe she could flag down a cop if she could find one before some unsavory character found her. She could call Jax and tell her to get her ass out of bed with Derek and come to the rescue. If Jax had her phone on. Maybe she was desperate enough to call Bernie. And stand on this deserted freeway entrance and wait for Jax or Bernie to get here? But it wasn’t deserted. What was that movement in the shadows under the ramp? Oh, great. She’d be waiting next to a homeless camp at one in the morning. Just dandy.
The Ghost lifted a booted leg over the handlebars of the bike, and went around to unstrap his saddlebags. He pulled out a helmet and handed it to her. “Put this on.”
She gripped her lip between her teeth.
“Okay, look,” he said, giving a disgusted sigh as he lowered the helmet. “You don’t know me. I get that. I look a little crazy. Hell, I am a little crazy. But I’m not leaving you at some flophouse or even a cabstand in the middle of the night. You don’t seem to have any friends. So unless you want to run the gauntlet at your apartment, you’re going to my Parents’ house.”
“I can’t impose…” She didn’t know his parents either. Though it was kind of sweet, when you thought about it, that he was taking her someplace he considered safe.
“Don’t be stupid.” He held out the helmet. “They’ve got enough bedrooms in that house that they won’t even know you’re there. My sisters will probably get all excited about giving you a change of clothes. They really like clothes. At least Drew and Kee do.”
Interesting. The guy who wore scuffed boots, a tee shirt and old leather had rich parents. And sisters. Sisters sounded pretty normal. She took the helmet and fitted it over her head. And really, what choice did she have? The helmet was too big.
“Okay,” she said with what was perhaps too little grace. “But only until morning.”
“Whatever.” He looked at her fumbling with the strap. Impatiently, he brushed her hands away to pull it tight for her.
The touch of his skin on hers made her jump and let out a little…oh, God, was that a growl? Oh, dear. And her panties got to another level of soaking. She turned her head up toward him. He looked shocked before he shut down his expression entirely. He swallowed hard and seemed to concentrate on pulling the strap tight under her chin. He had to touch her throat to hold the clasp. Greta was having trouble breathing. Her pulse was cycling up to heart-attack level. He was chewing on his lip so hard she thought he might draw blood.
“There,” he grunted and jerked away from her. He zipped up his duster. Then he slid onto the Harley seat in front of her and swung his leg up over the handlebars.
As they accelerated up the on-ramp, she tentatively put her arms around his torso to hold on. Thank God for the leather between them. The rush of air got cruel, and she huddled behind him, her cheek on his back. The duster flapped against her calves. Through the roar of the wind, she thought she could hear his heart beat. She’d never felt attraction like she had for this man. Was that why she was throwing caution to the wind and letting him take her to where parents and sisters might or might not be waiting? Maybe he’d lied about everything. She might be making the most foolish mistake of her life. She, who liked things ordered and secure. Anxious as she was, she realized she just didn’t care. Had he done that to her?
Who was this guy?
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Snippet from Magic’s in the Music
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