Page 2 of Hot as Hell (Royal Bastards MC, Montreal, Canada #2)

Chapter One

It had been a grueling day for Charlie Rose Cote.

Working three jobs was wearing on her. It took everything and then some to pay for her room at the Continental Inn and Suites.

She lived there because her ex-boyfriend Crispen lived in the luxury apartment she paid for in Montreal.

It wasn’t like she had wanted to live in that upscale apartment building.

No. She would have been fine with a second-floor shoebox anywhere.

But her being young and stupid, she had believed Crispen and his lying, cheating ass when he said, “Charlie, I love you, baby girl.”

Two months into the relationship Crispen had talked her into putting the apartment into her name.

After three months of living together, she caught him in bed with her now ex-best friend.

And she was still paying for an apartment she never wanted and didn’t live in at all to keep her credit from being ruined.

Seven more months and she would be free of that god forsaken lease and anything to deal with Crispen.

Stepping into the building, she decided she needed a drink.

The hotel bar, tucked just off the lobby, was a cozy spot that drew all sorts—from karaoke-loving regulars to trivia fanatics.

Tonight, however, was different. It was a quiet Thursday evening at the Oasis Bar, free of karaoke, trivia, or DJs.

The dimly lit space buzzed with soft chatter, its usual chaos replaced by a calm hum.

She found a seat at the sparsely filled bar and settled in, glancing around while waiting for the bartender to take her order. The simplicity of the evening felt refreshing—a rare moment of quiet in a place often brimmed with energy.

“What can I get you, miss?”

At least he didn’t call me little lady. “Bushwhacker.”

“Coming right up.”

Taking out her phone, Charlie checked her work schedules. To her surprise, she was off for the next twenty-four hours—from all three jobs. She couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened.

Maybe she should celebrate. A long, hot bath, ordering a pizza, and daringly going to bed a whole half-hour later than usual.

She let out a sigh. Gah, she was too young to feel this old.

“Here’s your drink. Would you like to open a tab?”

“No, I’m just having the one.” Sliding her credit card to the bartender, she picked up her drink and took the first sip.

Delicious. Looking around, she caught the eye of an attractive guy sitting four chairs down.

When he smiled and pointed to the seat next to him, she shook her head no with a smile.

She watched him smile back as he raised his whiskey glass to her.

Turning back around, Charlie faced the bar lost in thought as she sipped on her drink. A shadow fell across, bringing her attention back to her surroundings. Another guy was leaning into her space, making her feel uncomfortable.

“Looks like you need a man in your life tonight,” the guy four seats over stated.

“No thanks.”

“Come on sweetie, take a chance,” he replied to her as his eyes briefly shifted between her and the man crowded in on her other side.

Charlie stared at him and thought, why not? “You know what? I think I will.”

“Now we’re talking.”

Easing out of her seat, Charlie picked up her drink and slung her purse over her shoulder.

Without hesitating, she walked straight over to the attractive man sitting alone.

Sliding onto the empty seat beside him, she flashed a confident smile, her earlier disregard fading as she met his gaze. “Hello.”

The shit-eating grin that spread across Hemlock’s face couldn’t be contained. He’d been told multiple times that his smile could be deadly. Like a moth to a flame, the pretty brunette was pulled in. “Hello.”

Mmmm, his deep, sultry voice would be her undoing, she thought. The guy wasn’t homely by any means, but damn that voice could make her clothes take themselves off.

“Hemlock.”

She was caught off guard when he spoke. “I’m sorry what?”

“I said my name’s Hemlock.”

“What kind of name’s Hemlock?”

“A deadly one.” Hemlock looked at the woman with a glint of humor in his eyes, waiting for her next move. “Still interested, doll?”

There was no preamble to what either was looking for.

No, let’s sit and talk awhile.

No, would you like me to buy you another drink?

No discussion, just two consenting adults about to get their freak on.

“Sure. I’ve always been intrigued by danger.” It was his turn to be unsure and for a split second she saw his hesitation. Oh, the big bad biker wasn’t so bad after all.

Wow, this chick was right up his alley. “Your place or mine?” he asked and winked.

“Mine. That way, right after, I can kick you out.”

“Women do prefer to fuck in their own beds.” He found she wasn’t offended by his words.

Scooping up his credit card from the bar, he stood, wrapped an arm around the attractive female and walked them right out the bar and through the hotel’s front door.

In turn, she turned and walked them right back inside.

“Forget something?” Hemlock asked.

“No. I live here.” Charlie laughed, pointing upwards. “Upstairs, to be exact.”

“That’s damn convenient.”

“Isn’t it though.” Charlie kept her arm wrapped around Hemlock’s waist as he let out a chuckle. And to think she had thought her night would be boring.

“Hemlock.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m Charlie, by the way. Charlie Rose.”

“Sorry. I thought you wanted this casual.”

“Well, I prefer you not to call me some other woman’s name while I’m being fucked in my own bed.”

Oh yeah, she was gonna be fun. “What’s your opinion about foreplay, Charlie?”

“I think it’s overrated.” She gave him a cocky look. “Complete waste of time.”

“You, my girl, are becoming one of my absolute favorite people.”

“One thing.”

“What’s that?”

“At no time during the evening do I want to be preferred to as baby girl.”

Hemlock busted out laughing at her declaration. “Don’t worry I won’t. Its overused these days.”

“You can say that again,” she mumbled, stepping into the elevator.

Charlie pushed the button for the fourth floor, dropped her purse, and tugged Hemlock down by his shirt collar to kiss him.

There was always a way to get over a breakup.

It was getting on the next ride. And she really wanted to get over her breakup.

The elevator made it up to the fourth floor in record time.

No stops, just a straight shot up. Picking up her bag from the floor, Charlie got a peek at what her new found friend had to offer.

If the bulge in his jeans told her anything, it was she’d be sore tomorrow. Either that or disappointed as hell.

Hemlock held the door open so Charlie could step out first. His lips were tingling from the kissing. It’d been a minute since he’d been with a woman, but something told him she was out to prove something. Verified when the question, “You coming?” was called out from two doors down.

“Right behind you,” he said, stepping out of the elevator. Touching his fingers to his lips, Hemlock could swear they were puffy. He then found himself clearing his suddenly scratchy throat.

Following Charlie into her suite, he felt flushed and desperately wanted to throw some water on his face. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure. There’s a half bath right there.” Not looking back, Charlie pointed as she kicked off her heels.

Hemlock made quick work of getting to the bathroom.

Closing the door, he flipped on the lights and screamed.

“What the fuck!” His lips were red and swollen, making him look like Andrea Ivanova the woman that held the world’s record for the biggest lips.

His face was splotchy, and he felt like his throat was closing up.

Fuck, he was having an allergic reaction to something. But what? He was only allergic to one thing. Cinnamon. Even the smell was a problem for him. That’s when it hit him. Charlie was wearing lip gloss.

The door to the bathroom burst open. Hemlock turned his head to stare at Charlie. He saw the shocked look on her face. “What in the hell?” she said dumbfounded.

“I think I need an ambulance.”

Charlie turned around and ran into the other room and grabbed her phone. “Yes. I need an ambulance to…” What was she supposed to say… for her hookup? “My… boyfriend is having…” She looked at Hemlock.

“An allergic reaction,” he said, clearing his throat again.

“An allergic reaction,” she repeated.

“To Cinnamon,” Hemlock added, trying to concentrate on his breathing.

“Oh shit. I kissed him and he’s allergic to cinnamon.”

“Can you tell me his symptoms?” The 911 operator asked.

“Yes, his lips are enormous.” Wow, they are so huge. “His face is red and splotchy.” Like a breakout of the worse acne ever. “And he seems to be having trouble breathing.”

“An ambulance is on its way.”

“Thank you. We’ll meet them in the lobby.

” Hanging up, Charlie wrapped an arm around Hemlock and helped get him to the elevator.

The entire ride down, she prayed that he’d be okay.

She’d hate to go to jail because of her lip gloss.

She could see the headlines… young woman kills one night stand with slippery lips. Death by lip gloss.

Charlie’s mind raced as she held Hemlock’s arm, supporting his weight while trying to stay calm.

The elevator doors dinged open, and she quickly guided him out, hoping the paramedics would be there soon.

Hemlock was swaying slightly, his face still an alarming shade of red, the swelling on his lips almost comical if it weren’t so terrifying.

“Stay with me, Hemlock,” Charlie said, her voice wavering. “You’re gonna be okay. Just breathe in and out.”

Hemlock gave a weak, strangled laugh, his breath hitching. “This is not how I imagined spending my evening,” he managed to get out.

“Seriously, if you die from my lip gloss, I will never forgive myself,” Charlie muttered, half in panic, half in disbelief.

Hemlock managed a strained smile. “I’m sure your lip gloss didn’t mean to be so lethal.”

She wanted to laugh, but the anxiety bubbling in her chest was overwhelming.

She reached for her phone again, dialing the lobby to make sure the paramedics had arrived.

The lobby was empty except for a few guests, all blissfully unaware of the medical drama unfolding in the elevator.

When the doors opened on the ground floor, Charlie saw a couple of paramedics pushing a gurney toward them.

“Thank God,” she exhaled in relief, stepping aside to let them through.

The paramedics quickly took over, one checking Hemlock’s airways, the other preparing an EpiPen. Hemlock was still trying to joke through it, though his voice was hoarse.

“Guess I shouldn’t have tried to be the adventurous type,” he muttered, his eyes half-lidded from the swelling.

Charlie shot him a look. “Not funny. I could have killed you.”

Hemlock’s lips twitched upward despite his discomfort. “I think the only thing that’s in danger of killing me right now is the air.”

One paramedic glanced at Charlie, raising an eyebrow. “Is he allergic to cinnamon or something else?”

“Yeah,” Charlie confirmed, her voice tight. “Cinnamon. I didn’t even know until... well, this evening.”

“Well, he’s gonna need a dose of epinephrine and some oxygen,” the paramedic said, already prepping the injection. “But he should be alright once it kicks in.”

Charlie swallowed, her heart finally starting to settle. The worst was over. Hemlock would be okay. But still, the weight of what had just happened hung heavily on her.

As they loaded Hemlock onto the stretcher, he gave her a wink.

With one last look at Hemlock, still looking ridiculous but at least alive—Charlie followed the paramedics, praying this bizarre, disastrous evening was almost over.