Page 276 of Rogue Riders Duet

What the actual fuck is that?

I pad out to the front where Dane is already sitting at the little table, laptop open, glowering at the screen.

“What crawled into your cereal and died?” I ask, grabbing a protein bar from the counter and taking a bite.

He doesn’t even look up. “Nothing.”

Thump.

Urgh!

“What the hell is that?”

Dane sighs like the sound physically hurts him. “Greer.”

“What?”

“Fucking idiot’s outside. Looks like he made it his personal mission to fix the bus.”

“Why?”

“Hell if I know.” He shrugs one shoulder. “And for the record, I don’t care.”

“Fair. But why are you mad at him and not at me, anyway? You know it takes two to⁠—”

“Oh, I am mad at you, don’t worry,” he cuts me off, finally looking at me. “But he came onto you.”

“That’s not true. I came onto him.”

Dane snaps his laptop shut. “Alaina, you were in love with him since you were thirteen. He should’ve known better. You’re just⁠—”

“Don’t you dare say I’m a fucking child, Dane. I’m twenty-four. He’s thirty-four. We’re consenting adults.” He looks like he’s about to open his mouth to argue, but I’m not done yet. “And Piper’s thirty. So what? Because she’s only four years younger than you, that makes it better than our age gap?”

“Yes,” he bites out. “And the tiny fact that I didn’t watch her grow up!”

We glare at each other, and the silence between us buzzes like tension on a start gate until I break it by rolling my eyes. “I’m going outside. Gonna sit on the bike for a bit.”

“Sure, whatever. Everybody does what they want anyway,” he mutters.

Rolling my eyes again, this time even harder, I grab my gloves, step through the bus’ door, and let it slam behind me. I glance around and, sure enough, there’s Finn, sleeves rolled up, muscular forearms on full display, hammer in hand, fixing something on the bus like redemption can be welded together.

He notices me staring and turns around with a smile on his face that almost takes my breath away. “Hey, Al. I didn’t know you were in there.”

I don’t answer. Just keep walking toward the back of the bus.

I don’t trust my voice to come out neutral.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry,” he adds, a little softer as I pass him.

What do you want, Finn?

Do you want me to ask what you’re doing?

Well, guess what? I won’t.

Even if I’d love to know why the fuck the white CREWS on the bus suddenly looks not so shitty anymore.

I pop the lock on the back of the bus and swing the doors open, already reaching for the frame where it’s strapped in, when I feel warmth at my back. A shadow falls over mine as Finn reaches over me, fingers brushing past my shoulder, going for my bike.