“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I fucking hate Texas.” I sling my backpack down, and it lands on my toe. Shooting pain bursts from my foot. “Bollocks.” Kicking the stupid thing, I mutter angrily, “Stupid fucking bag. Stupid fucking bus.”
A raspy chuckle makes me freeze.
I brush down my shirt, straighten, and spin. My eyes start at the tarmac under my feet and slowly track upwards, devouring the biker god in front of me. Jesus, he’s huge. His tight white T-shirt stretches taut over his bulging chest. Tattoos cover his arms down to his knuckles and peak tantalizingly out of the neck of his shirt. His strong, thick thighs are spread astride a badass Harley motorcycle, the polished chrome sparkling in the morning sunlight.
His hair is dark, almost black. Short at the sides but longer, shaggy and tousled on the top. God, I’m tempted to run my fingers through it. I force my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching out.
I finally focus on his face. Wow, he’s beautiful. Perfectly chiseled cheekbones and full lips showcase his amused grin.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
He pulls a long drag from his cigarette and lazily blows the smoke into the air. “No thanks, darlin’, I’m happy watching.” His gaze glides up and down my body, and my skin heats under his appraisal.
I raise my eyebrows. “You having fun over there?” Blatantly mimicking him, I rake my eyes over his ripped jeans, pausing on the visible bulge beneath his zipper.
The corner of his mouth twitches into a cocky grin. “Sugar, I’m enjoying every minute.”
His southern drawl as smooth as whiskey, my panties dampen and instant arousal pulses in my stomach. I pull in a deep breath, hoping enough air will put my brain back in charge. “Okay, show’s over, buddy, so buh-bye,” I say sardonically.
He doesn’t move.
I sigh deeply. “For God’s sake. I’m having the day from hell, so can you please just fuck off and let me be pissed off in peace?”
He leans forward onto the handlebars and chuckles indulgently.
Incredulous anger ignites in my stomach. “Are you serious? Where the hell is all this Southern charm and Texas hospitality I was promised?”
Grabbing my bag, I turn to leave, but his hand on my elbow stops me. My flesh tingles where his skin touches mine. Biker Boy’s off his bike and beside me. He’s so close his woody, clean scent surrounds me as his body heat warms my skin.
“I’m sorry, sugar. Tell me what’s happened, and maybe I can help,” he drawls.
I glance down at his tattooed hand and thick fingers wrapped around my arm. His thumb strokes, caressing circles across my skin. I lift my head, and our gazes lock. Intensity sparkles in his sea-green depths. The stroking stops, and he slowly trails his hand down my arm, reluctantly freeing me at the tips of my fingers.
Stepping back, I release the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. “My bus broke down this morning. I went to get coffee, and now it’s gone and I’m stuck here. Wherever the hell here is?”
Biker Boy drags his fingers through his hair, further dishevelling it. “Shit,” he hisses.
I close my eyes, a short, bitter laugh escaping me. “Yep. Shit. That pretty much sums it up.”
The warm sun beats down on the barren roadside. Crickets chirp, and the small town behind us bustles with life, a low hum of noise buzzing all around.
“Where you headed, sugar?” His voice pulls my attention.
Staring at his full, pouty lips, my mind blanks. Shaking my head, I clear the haze his presence creates. “El Paso,” I reply.
“You on vacation or is El Paso home?” he asks.
“Neither, I’m travelling,” I reply.
“Travelling where?” he probes.
I smile cheerfully. “Wherever takes my fancy. It’s all part of my great American adventure.”
Biker boy rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. His lazy movements are so effortless, I can’t take my eyes off him.
God, he’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. The cheeky tilt of his head and the twinkle in his eye says he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
He smirks at me. “Well, sugar, welcome to Archer’s Creek.”
I feel an unwelcome blush spread across my cheeks.
His smirk changes into a predatory grin. “What’s your name?”
I copy his body language and tilt my head. “Olivia.”
He smiles and stepping towards me, reaches out to gently trace my jaw with his fingertips. “Well, Olivia, you need to stop looking like you wanna lick me. Else I’m gonna strip you naked and spread you out like dessert in about two seconds.”
My brain shouts at me to beg him to do just that. But I can’t fuck a random biker I just met, can I?
Stepping backwards, I slowly edge away from his magnetic pull. “Okay. Well, Biker Boy, it’s been interesting. I’m gonna go now and see if there’s any way of getting to El Paso by the end of the day. So, er, thanks.”
I turn, but his hand on my elbow stops me. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I look over my shoulder and my gaze meets his.
“Echo. I’m Echo,” he says.