Page 28

“Stupid thing.”

And that’s when I see it—the front wheel of a motorcycle. Not just any motorcycle.His.

“Subtle parking job,” a familiar voice drawls—amused, unmistakable. My heart jolts.

Ray.

He’s leaning against his Harley, arms crossed, all cool confidence and effortless swagger. His blond hair is wind-tossed to perfection. His dark sunglasses hide his eyes, but the smirk curling his lips is familiar. Inviting and dangerous.

“You should get that clutch checked,” he adds casually. “It’s on its last leg.”

“You’re here?”

“In the flesh.” His grin widens, and just like that, I forget how to breathe.

I laugh—short and stunned—and the tension I’ve been carrying all day melts into something warm.

“I didn’t see this coming.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing.

“I figured I’d tell you to your face. It was stupid of you to leave like that.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, blinking rapidly. This is not the apology I expected.

“We could’ve gone out after lunch,” he says, stepping closer. “I know it’s not the date we planned, but better than running off.”

I look down, heat creeping up my neck.

“What can I say? I was disappointed. I guess I acted like it.”

Ray tilts his head, pulling his sunglasses down just enough to meet my eyes. His gaze is steady.

“Now who’s being immature?”

Anger flashes but the smell of him, solid and intoxicating fills my nose. I can’t hold onto the upset because he’s not wrong. He told me there was pack business and I know from both Monica and Erica how that goes.

“Guilty.” I lift my hands in mock surrender, though it’s more real than I want to admit. “You love that bike, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then you better park it properly before it gets towed,” I say, brushing past him with a smile I don’t try to hide. “I’ll wait.”

The weight in my chest lifts, replaced by something electric. He came. He’s here. This may not be the perfect moment I imagined—but it’s real. And it’s definitely better than lonely silence and Netflix reruns.

“I hope I don’t find my baby smashed,” he mutters as he follows.

“Follow me, Mr. Biker,” I call over my shoulder. “Your baby’s safe. Now come inside before someone else tries to seduce me.”

“Hard not to worry,” he says, lips twitching. “I built her from scratch.”

“Oh, you’re one ofthosebikers,” I tease as we reach the elevator.

“The kind who actually loves their ride? Guilty as charged.”

As the elevator doors close, a charged silence crackles between us. I lean against the wall, turning to face him.

“So, where would you have taken me last night? Please don’t say Tiffany’s.”