Page 21 of Badd Ass
No, no, no. Don’t get sucked in, Mara—it’s a black hole, thinking about Dad.
I fought it as Zane guided the motorcycle to the B&B where’d I’d booked a room for the week. Tells you how distracted I was, that I didn’t stop to wonder how he knew where I was staying until after he’d shut off the bike.
I stayed seated on the bike behind Zane as I tugged the helmet off. “I have two questions for you, Zane.”
He took the helmet from me and hung it on the handlebar, then swung his leg over the seat, pivoted, and swung back on facing backward. “What’s up?”
I indicated the B&B with a jerk of my head. “How’d you know where I was staying? And how’d you find which bar I was at?”
“I’ll answer the second question first, because that’s an easier answer: there aren’t all that many bars in this town, so I just went from bar to bar until I found you.”
“Alright,” I said, conceding the logic of that. “And how’d you know I was staying here?”
He sighed. “I told you Xavier is a whiz at anything scientific or electronic, right? Well, he’s also pretty quick with the computers. He looked your name up in the incoming flights registers, and then sort of tracked you to where you were staying. Not sure how he did it, just that he did.”
“And why did you feel it necessary to know where I was staying?” I eyed him with skepticism. “It feels a little…stalkerish.”
He ran his hands along my thighs. “I wasn’t ready to let you go last night. I wanted to find you. See if we could hang out some more.”
“You mean hook up again.”
He grinned. “That too, yeah, no point denying it.” Zane’s hands traveled to the crease where my leg met my hip. “I wasn’t stalking you. I just wanted to be able to find you before you left, see if you’d…give me another shot, I guess.”
“What else did you look up about me?” I asked.
“Nothing, I swear.” Rain was trickling down his jaw, his forehead, his neck, beading in his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Just your flight in, and where you were staying.”
“So, if you hadn’t found me at the bar, you would have shown up here looking for me?”
A shrug. “Probably.”
“What if I’d found someone else to take me back to my room?”
His eyes darkened a little, as if he wasn’t entirely happy with that suggestion. “I thought about that. If I’d seen you with someone else, I’d—well, I’d like to say I’d have left you alone, but that’s probably not true.”
I tilted my head at him. “No?”
He wiped at his face, brushing rain out of his eyes. “I’d have still tried to talk to you. Get you to ditch whatever loser you’d picked up.”
“What if he weren’t a loser?” I was pushing him now, teasing a little, but also sort of…probing his reactions, assessing his jealousy barometer.
“If he ain’t me, he’s a loser,” he insisted, a cocky grin on his lips.
“Oh really?” I tapped his nose. “You, sir, have a high opinion of yourself.”
He captured my finger and bit down on it gently. “We’ve covered this already. Yeah, I do, but it’s not all that misplaced, is it?” He flattened his palm against mine, our hands vertical between us, as if comparing hand sizes: his hands were so big he could curl his fingers down over the tops of mine. “You got something to hide, Mara Quinn?” His voice was playful, teasing.
I should have played it cool, should have responded with some quip to distract his attention. Instead, I was an idiot.
“None of your damn business,” I snapped, climbing abruptly off the bike to stalk toward the door of the B&B.
“Well that was supposed to be a joke,” Zane said, calm as ever, remaining on the Triumph. “But obviously I touched a nerve.”
I halted and spun on my heel. “No shit.”
He just eyed me from the seat of the bike, unperturbed. “Notice how I’m not pushing it? Notice as well that I didn’t push on that comment about your dad?” His hand scraped over his scalp, flinging water droplets behind him. “You don’t have to tell me shit. I’m not asking, and I’m not gonna ask. You feel like talking, babe, I’m all ears. You don’t feel like talking? Well, then, that’s fine too, no skin off my back. We all got shit we don’t like sharing, honey, me included. If you’re expecting me to…I dunno…be judge-y or demand you bare your deepest secrets right off the bat, you’re talking to the wrong guy.”
I walked back to the bike. “I’m sorry, Zane, it’s just—”