Page 15 of Bolt's Flame

Her eyebrows raised slightly, and for a second, I thought she might refuse. She looked back at Josie, then down at her hands, fiddling with her sleeve. “I was just going to wait on Dad or something...”

“Don’t need to do that,” I cut in, keeping my voice steady. “I’m headin’ that way today. I’ll give you a ride.”

It was a lie. I didn’t need to go anywhere. I had two engines I was rebuilding at the club’s garage that needed my attention. But something in me needed to be the one taking her. It was stupid and irrational, but I didn’t care.

Josie glanced between us, his smile faltering just a bit, but he didn’t say anything. Why did he care if I took her? It wasn’t his fucking business.

“If you’re sure,” Fiona said, her voice soft, like she wasn’t completely sold on the idea.

“I’m sure.”Lie.I wasn’t sure about anything except that I wasn’t about to let Josie—or anyone else—be the one looking out for her right now.

She hesitated, biting her lip, her fingers rotating on her neck as she thought hard,real hard, by the looks of it. I could see the wheels turning in her head. Maybe she didn’t trust me. Maybe she didn’t trust anyone but her dad. But then she nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

Josie clapped me on the back as he passed by, heading toward the stove. “Thanks Bolt,” he said with a tight grin. “Keep her safe.”

I didn’t reply, just finished my coffee in one long gulp and set the cup down a little too hard on the counter. “You ready to head out?” I asked Fiona.

She pushed away from the counter, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I just need to grab my bag.”

“Take your time,” I said, watching her walk out of the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Josie was busy pulling out ingredients, as I stood there wondering what the fuck I was doing. I hated feeling like this. Like I was on the edge of falling, helpless to stop it and thatfucked with my head, since I promised myself, I would never feel that way again. My hand went to the lock around my neck, grounding me, making me remember.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the frustration that clung to me like a second skin. This trip to the store? It wasn’t about anything. It was just a ride, and that’s all. I just needed to help her, be near her for a bit to get her out of my system.

But as she came back into the kitchen, her bag slung over her shoulder and a small, hesitant smile on her face, I knew I was lying to myself.

Because this wasn’t just a ride.

And Fiona?

She wasn’t just a woman passing through my life.

I STOOD BYthe front of the clubhouse, staring at Bolt’scherry red Harley, feeling a mix of anxiety and something else I couldn’t quite place. The idea of riding with him, pressed closeon the back of his bike, was... intimidating, but at the same time exhilarating. My body seemed to love the idea, humming in anticipation even if my mind tried to hide in a corner.

The motorcycle was a vintage model that much was obvious; it seemed like a theme with Bolt. I stared at the bike, wondering how I was going to get through this ride.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t ridden on a motorcycle. I had, plenty of times, just not recently, heck, not since James. It was the seat that gave me pause; I mean, dad’s motorcycle had bigger seats that didn’t require me to hold on to him. This seat would put me right into Bolt’s back and force me to grip his waist, my body very intimate with his.

James’ words also came to mind how he considered it beneath him and foolish. Only people skirting the law rode those things. I could practically hear his voice in my head, mocking me for even thinking about it.

James isn’t here, I reminded myself.

Bolt was though.

And that was its own kind of confusion.

He stepped out of the clubhouse in his tight jeans, his leather cut on over his tight black t-shirt, looking too damn good and as calm and collected as ever. I still couldn’t figure him out. One minute, he barely spoke to me, the next, he was offering to take me into town like it was nothing.

He looked up, his gaze catching mine as he handed me a helmet. I knew how this worked, but the butterflies in my stomach didn’t care and continued to flutter around.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I replied, taking the helmet from him. I secured the strap under my chin, the movements automatic from years of practice. The thought of being so close to Bolt, of wrapping my arms around him, had my heart racing.

Bolt climbed onto the bike with practiced ease, his movements fluid and confident. I followed, settling behind him like I’d done a thousand times before with Dad. But this man wasn’t my dad. This was Bolt, a very sexy biker whose woodsy smell alone had me drawing a deep breath.

“Hold on tight,” Bolt said as the engine revved beneath us.