Page 7 of My Christmas Biker
Jesus. He was fucking eye candy.
“Shit,” I whispered. “I’m never getting out of here now.”
“Where ya headed?”
“Vegas. Home for Christmas.” Tears rushed to my eyes out of nowhere as I thought of missing the holiday with Nathan, my mom, and Uncle Trig. I quickly blinked them back. “I’m gonna miss seeing my cousin before he ships out.”
The bikers exchanged a glance.
Mr. Tall, Chiseled and Handsome, held out his hand as his gaze locked on mine. “I’m Brick.” He pointed to his friend. “That’s Dagger.”
I shook his hand, noticing how his bigger palm engulfed mine in warmth. “Ginger.”
Brick grinned. “Not hard to guess with that hair color.”
No, it wasn’t. I’d been born a redhead, and as I grew older, it became less coppery, deepening into a darker shade I loved. With the natural curl and silky texture, I felt blessed.
Brick continued to stare, still holding my hand. He had the sexiest, bluest eyes. Bold, but friendly. The color and how they sparkled under the airport lighting seemed almost familiar. Strange, but I couldn’t think where I had seen him before now. I didn’t know any bikers.
My gaze swept over Brick’s leather vest. I caught his name, Sergeant at Arms, and I knew there would be a patch on the back that would declare his club affiliation. My father belonged to a motorcycle club. Fifteen years earlier, he’d been gunned down and killed because of it. On my thirteenth birthday, to be exact.
I pulled my hand from Brick’s as he frowned, not missing the sudden change in my demeanor, especially after I glanced at both of their vests. They thought I made an assumption as they both stood a little taller, if possible and seemed alert.
The playfulness left both their expressions.
“We’re not dangerous,” Dagger replied.
“To you,” Brick added with honesty.
“I know that,” I answered with equal candor, “but this isn’t my first encounter with bikers.”
Dagger shook his head. “I hate that shit. Other clubs makin’ ours look bad.”
Brick’s focus remained on me. “You need to get home, right? For the holidays?”
“Yes.” What did that have to do with our discussion?
“Then let us prove that the colors we wear and the leather on our backs don’t mean we’re bad men.”
“And how do you propose I do that?” I could guess, but I wanted him to say it.
“Let me give you a ride to Vegas.”
A ten-hour drive with two strangers?
Dagger snorted, giving his friend a pointed look. I couldn’t begin to assess the meaning of it. “I won’t be goin’ that far. Drop me at Nan’s. Then she won’t be home alone for Christmas.”
Brick clapped him on the shoulder. “Appreciate that, Dag.”
“Ain’t goin’ anywhere with this storm. Shouldn’t have wasted our time by insisting we come to the airport.”
“We thought there might be a chance until we saw how bad it got,” Brick reminded him.
Dagger shrugged. “True. Now I get to eat at Nan’s. I’m not thinkin’ it’s a bad thing. Might even save you something if you drive right back.”
“Don’t make me rescind that invite and drop you off on the side of the road.”
Dagger chuckled.