Honey In The Rock (Sweet & Dirty BBW #5)(2)By: Cathryn Cade
She bent her knees and peered into the car.
Rocker Hayes—yes, his MC handle was really Rocker, and he seemed to have accepted the name as a life imperative.
Not only was his unruly, black hair clubbed at the back of his neck in a man-bun, he wore a rock band tee under his leather jacket, along with heavy boots, and a variety of silver chains around his neck, as well as silver rings on several fingers of his big hands.
His facial hair included a ‘stache that was trimmed in a narrow band around his mouth to meet a goatee, shot with the occasional silver thread. This was perfect for him, in her opinion.
He looked Caucasian mixed with Hispanic heritage—his jaw was wide, his mouth narrow and curving, although now twisted with what looked like supreme irritation, which also lowered his heavy black brows, and narrowed his eyes behind thick lashes.
His dark eyes were cold, so cold that the few times his gaze had swept over her, they’d left a chill behind, along with a strange thrill of heat.
A scar slashed under his right cheekbone, and another down through his left eyebrow. She suspected he’d given worse to whoever dared mark him.
Now he wanted her to get in his fabulous car.
“Um … why?” Billie finally managed, her voice husky because she hadn’t yet used it that morning, except to say good morning to the large striped tom cat that hung around her new neighborhood.
Rocker gave her a look that seemed to express his extreme displeasure that she was not instantly falling in with his plans—or maybe that she existed at all, she honestly wasn’t sure. His gaze flicked over her face, lingering on her right cheekbone, which she had attempted to cover heavily with makeup.
One of his heavy brows arched, a skill which she’d love to master, but never had—unless you counted her gamer avatar, Sheenah, who had flaming red hair and always arched a disdainful brow as she blasted her opponent with a fire bolt.
“You really wanna get on that bus?” Rocker demanded.
Billie felt heat rising, burning up her wrapped throat and up over her face. She knew her attempts at hiding the bruise hadn’t been entirely successful, but of all the people on the planet, she hadn’t expected this man to notice, and she especially hadn’t expected him to care.
The only time he could have noticed her injury was last evening, when she’d seen him for like five minutes while standing in line at the local hardware store. He’d been two ahead of her, turned to face the counter as she waited to make her purchase and tried without success not to stare at him.
His gaze had flicked over her from head to toe, returned to her face and narrowed on it. Then he’d lifted his chin to her, taken his change from the clerk, and walked out of the store.
After making her own purchase, she’d hurried across the highway and along the street to her tiny rental house on Barker Street.
Inside, she’d locked the doors, checked the window locks as well, then pulled down the blinds and curled up on the small sofa to play her video game, a small ice pack in a washcloth on her bruise.
Only when she’d been unable to keep her eyes open had she taken herself to bed.
He, astoundingly, had apparently used part of his own evening to uncover not only who she was, and how she commuted to work, but also what might be the source of her facial injury.
She and he had existed in the same world—that of the Devil’s Flyers of Airway Heights, Washington—for two months and five days— she remembered this, because he had that kind of effect on women, even those like her, to whom Rocker Hayes didn’t pay attention.
She blinked at him now, trying to wrap her mind around this conversation. Did she want to get on the bus?
“Um … no?” she answered, then wished desperately that she could disappear in a poof! of smoke or whatever. She sounded like a complete idiot. “But I have—I’m prepared this time.”
“Right,” he growled. “I’m thinkin’ you’re not. So get in and I’ll give you a ride.”
“But … why?” Billie was desperate to understand what was happening. She was also conscious that not only Herb, but some of the passengers on the bus were watching her chat with a hot, semi-outlaw biker, and that she was keeping them all from rushing to their jobs and other downtown activities. She was the nice girl, the considerate one, who never kept people waiting—even when some of them were intent on doing her harm.