Page 84 of Bone’s Choice

He probably had plenty of practice.

I’d seen him at Bing’s. Women noticed him.

Hell, women noticed all the Grave Prowlers. Eight bikers walking into a crowded bar wasn’t exactly subtle.

Bone probably never had to work very hard to get a woman’s attention. Maybe flirting with me didn’t mean shit.

That possibility shouldn’t have bothered me. We barely knew each other. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.

I’d moved here to start over, not immediately attach myself to the first attractive man I met.

Especially not one named Bone who happened to be the president of a motorcycle club. That sounded like the beginning of several questionable decisions.

I smiled despite myself. Still, I’d thought he wanted me.

Whatever. I wasn’t going to sit here dissecting every conversation we’d had.

If Bone wanted something, he could make that clear. If he didn’t, that was fine too.

I took another drink and stretched my legs out.

I wasn’t chasing him.

Chapter Fourteen

Bone

It was eleven-thirty at night and I was on my bike with no fucking reason to be riding into Marshfield.

At least, that was what I told myself. I knew where I was going.

I’d known when I walked out of the clubhouse and climbed onto my bike. I’d known when I turned toward town instead of taking one of the back roads I usually rode when I needed to clear my head.

I damn sure knew when Bing’s came into view.

I just wasn’t admitting it.

Hazel had been on my mind too fucking much.

All day. Yesterday too.

Since Friday, if I wanted to be completely fucking accurate.

Her standing against the brick wall behind Bing’s. Her smart mouth. Her eyes dropping to mine. Her asking me for that ride last night.

I’d wanted to say yes. That was the fucked-up part.

When I’d walked out of Ma’s house and seen Hazel sitting on her porch in those tiny fucking shorts and that scrap of a tank top, I’d almost forgotten the plans I’d already made.

Almost, but I’d had shit to handle. Club shit.

Plans I couldn’t blow off because the woman next door was sitting on her porch looking like every dirty thought I’d had about her over the last week.

So I’d told her I needed a raincheck. The disappointment that flashed across her face had stuck with me.

I wasn’t responsible for Hazel’s feelings. Hell, there weren’t any feelings between us to be responsible for.

There was attraction. A lot of it.