Page 5 of Biker Under My Tree

Flour covered every surface, myself included, and I barely had enough time to breathe, let alone take a break. I pushed a stray tendril of hair out of my face, smudged more flour onto my cheek, and finally took a deep breath. I’d been baking my butt off all morning, and with Kelsi and Tom gone until after the New Year, I knew I’d have to keep up this pace for the next two weeks if I wanted to still have a bakery by the time the holidays were over.

I glanced at the window and hoped to catch a glimpse of Bones. Usually, by now, I’d see him in his garage, tinkering away on some bike, his tall frame moving with that easy confidence he always had. But I hadn’t seen him all day. Instead, there was movement in the garage, but it wasn’t him. I squinted and hoped maybe he’d step into view. After a few seconds, though, I realized it wasn’t Bones at all. Three men I didn’t recognize were inside his garage.

I frowned and watched them. I’d seen Bones with customers before—usually locals who would come by to drop off bikes or just chat. But these three looked different, and there was no sign of Bones. They were poking around and glancing over the tools, looking at the bikes like they owned the place. Something about it didn’t feel right.

Maybe it was the flour dust getting to me, but without really thinking, I wiped my hands on my apron, threw open the back door, and stepped outside. The cold air bit at me, but it also cleared my head. I could feel my heart rate pick up a little as I walked down the steps, stood just at the edge of my yard, and looked at the garage.

One of the men caught sight of me and nudged the other, and they both turned in my direction. I swallowed and felt suddenly very aware of my flour-dusted clothes and messy hair, but I didn’t look away.

This was the first time I cursed those see-through garage doors Bones had installed. Standing there in his driveway, I had a clear view of the three men inside, who looked rough and a little too… intense. I wanted to turn tail and run back into the house, maybe even lock the door for good measure, but it was too late now. My feet were rooted to the ground.

Then I heard it. The low growl of a motorcycle in the distance built up into a roar as it approached. It was Bones, unmistakably. The sound rumbled through my chest and grew louder and louder until it felt like it was vibrating right through me.

I turned and looked down the driveway just as Bones rounded the corner into the driveway on his bike and headed toward me. Relief washed over me, and I whispered, “Thank God.”

But now, I’d have to talk to him. Or I could spin around and run back inside before he pulled up. My feet didn’t move, though, even as the bike slowed and he rolled to a stop right in front of the garage.

Bones kicked down the stand and let the engine idle for a moment before turning it off. He swung his leg over the bike, his movements smooth and easy, as if he was born to ride. Leather jacket, dark jeans, a bit of stubble—it all made him look like a dream out of a bad-boy romance novel. I’d always watched him from a distance and knew he was good-looking, but up close? Yeah, I had underestimated it. Big time.

Bones’ eyes met mine with the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You okay, Sugar?”

Three words in, and he called me sugar. Dear God. I was pretty sure my panties were going to melt right there.

I just stared at him while my brain short-circuited. I had to say something, anything, but words just… didn’t come.

He took a step closer, and his gaze trailed over me, slow and deliberate. “Did something happen?”

Snap out of it, Snow,I thought. I needed to get my act together. I’d rather say something ridiculous than stand here like I’d lost the ability to speak. Even something stupid, like “Timmy fell down the well,” would be better than this silence.

But instead, I just pointed to the garage.

Brilliant.

Bones glanced over his shoulder and looked back at the men through the glass doors. “Uh, yeah, that’s my garage.”

“There are men in there.” The words finally tumbled out of me, though they weren’t exactly my finest. Perhaps explaining my hunch that he was being robbed would have been better.

Bones turned back and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s Mickey, Wick, and Nut. They came over to hang out, I guess.”

Friends. The three scary men in his garage were his friends. Of course, they were his friends. I mean, he wasn’t exactly the type to get robbed on a Wednesday afternoon, now that I thought about it. But my brain apparently hadn’t wanted to think rationally—it went right to the worst and ridiculous.

“That makes sense,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

Bones tilted his head and looked amused. “So you were coming over here because…?”

“Oh, uh, well…” I cleared my throat and felt the heat creep up my neck. I didn’t really know what I was coming over here to do. I mean, it’s not like I was trained in hand-to-hand combat or had some grand plan. Realistically, I’d just have been waltzing right into my own death if those guys had actually been robbing him.

“I think I’ve inhaled a lot of flour today. More than usual.” I gestured awkwardly over my shoulder toward my house. “I bake. I bake things.” As if adding “things” clarified anything.

His brows lifted, and his smirk deepened.

“And now,” I continued, desperate to escape this hole I was digging, “I am going to head back home and stick my head in the oven.”

Bones chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that hit me somewhere far down in the stomach. There was something about the way he laughed—deep, a little rough around the edges, and entirely too sexy for my own good. It wasn’t helping my already fragile grip on sanity.

“I know you bake, Sugar,” he said, still grinning. “I can smell all the enticing things coming out of your kitchen.”

Oh, lord, now he was adding “enticing things” to the mix. I felt my cheeks heat even more. It wasn’t like he could see the mess I usually made of my kitchen after a full day of baking, but his comment made me imagine him standing in my kitchen doorway, taking it all in while I was knee-deep in flour.