Sample Chapter
Thaddeus “Tad” Haugen shifted his BMW convertible into third gear and pressed the accelerator, the growl of the engine vibrating through the leather seat into his chest. His father’s voice echoed in his head—Late is lazy, son. A potential lecture he had zero patience for today.
The car ahead slowed, and Tad swerved into the left lane.
HONK!
The blast slammed into his eardrums and his eyes flew to the rearview mirror. Crap! He hadn’t even seen the motorcycle.
As the bike shot past him, he caught a glimpse of auburn hair whipping free from beneath a matte-black helmet and the curve of a narrow back tapering to hips that could never be mistaken for male.
The rider slipped into the lane in front of him.
A battered pickup truck travelling the other direction lurched into the center turn lane, and Tad’s gut tightened. “Don’t,” he muttered, heart jackhammering.
But the driver began his turn—directly across the biker’s path.
Brakes squealed. The motorcycle fishtailed once, twice, the back wheel skidding like a hooked fish. For a suspended instant, Tad thought she might pull it out—but then bike and rider toppled sideways in slow motion.
His pulse spiked. He slammed his hazard button, shoved the gearshift into park, and bolted from the car. The pickup was already gone, as if the driver hadn’t noticed—or didn’t care about—the carnage he’d caused.
The acrid bite of burnt rubber stung Tad’s nostrils as he sprinted to where the biker lay.
“Are you all right?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.
The rider groaned, boots scraping against pavement as she wrestled free from under the machine. He thrust out a hand. She ignored it, planting her palms on the ground and levering herself upright. Her movements were shaky but controlled.
Still, he couldn’t breathe until he knew for sure. He touched her shoulder, his palm hot against the smooth leather. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She flipped her visor up. Brilliant green eyes locked on his, widening as though she hadn’t expected him to be so close. A flush bloomed raspberry-pink against pale skin.
“I’m, ah…” She tore her gaze away, brushing distractedly at her scuffed chaps. “I appear to be in one piece.”
Then she crouched beside the bike, muttering something that sounded like ‘freaking cage drivers.’
He frowned. “Cage drivers?”
She glanced up, then away again. “It’s what bikers call people in cars. You know… stuck in a cage?”
A corner of his mouth tugged upward despite the adrenaline still burning in his veins. “Clever.”
She turned and shifted, gripping the handlebars and shoving against the frame, her whole body straining. Tad blinked. Was she seriously trying to lift six hundred pounds of steel by herself?
“Let me help,” he said.
“I got it,” she snapped, jaw tight.
He bit back a retort. She was proud—he got that. But she was also trembling from the effort. He slipped off his windbreaker and tossed it across his hood of his car, his father and their pending tennis game forgotten, and moved to her side.
“Really, I got this,” she ground out, muscles quivering.
He stepped in anyway. “I can see that.” He crouched, bracing against the frame, their shoulders nearly touching. She didn’t protest again, and together they hauled the bike upright.
Her breath gusted out in a shaky exhale. “Thanks.”
“Maybe we should pull off to the side,” he said, noting how her fingers trembled as she gripped the handlebars.
“I’m fine.” She swung a leg over the seat, checking levers and gauges with brisk efficiency.
The engine roared back to life under her touch, a guttural snarl that raised goosebumps along his arms.
Seriously? She was just going to ride away?
“You sure?” he said, hesitant to let her vanish so easily after nearly dying right in front of him.
Her helmeted head snapped back toward him, eyes catching his for one breath-stealing second. “Um… thanks… again.”
Then she twisted the throttle and the bike surged forward, leaving nothing but exhaust and the echo of his racing heartbeat.
