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“Why?”

He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over my jaw. “Because.”

“That’s not an answer. It’s too vague and noncommittal.”

His lips twitched. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“You’re not going to say more, are you?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

I pouted, sticking out my lower lip because I felt ridiculous, left in the dark, and like a child being denied dessert or something sparkly and pretty. He dangled it like a scrumptious morsel and denied me the pleasure of experiencing it. “You’re mean.”

A dark chuckle escaped as he held my chin, refusing to let me turn away. “No. I’m delaying my response for a time when it will make better sense.”

I snorted. “Why? Are you stalking me or something?”

His grin widened.

Oh. My. God. He was! “Rain!”

“As much as I love to hear you say my name, I don’t go by Rain anymore.” He tapped a spot of the leather vest on his chest. “See? My road name is Cuckoo.”

Cuckoo. Huh. It worked for him.

“So, I can’t call you Rain?”

“Well, that’s just for when we’re alone.”

“Like now,” I pointed out.

Those gray eyes of his nearly glistened with silver. “Yeah, angel, we are.”

Outside, I heard a crow cawing. It grew louder, hopping outside the kitchen window. How odd. I didn’t notice many crows before today.

“Are you a biker or something?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m a member of the Devil’s Murder MC.”

That sounded ominous. And dangerous. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve got my protection. Always. Me and my club.”

Wait. I frowned. “Why do I need protection?”

He shrugged. “You don’t. Right?”

No, of course not. “Why would I?”

“Exactly. Why would you need it, angel?” He hung on my answer, wondering if I was hiding something.

“I’m not hiding anything, Cuckoo.”

His lips thinned, losing the playful smile. “I believe you, Katrina.”

It didn’t look like it. “I’m a librarian, Rain, err Cuckoo. I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket. I always obey the law.”

He released my chin and sat back, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I thought so.”