Page 5

"Anytime," Katty says, and something in her voice makes me believe she means it.

I release her hand reluctantly as Lilly bounces over to us, her eyes bright with excitement and mischief.

"How was your ride?" she asks, looking between us with barely concealed interest.

"Illuminating," I answer, catching Katty's eye. The hint of a smile plays at the corner of her mouth.

"Uh-huh," Lilly says, clearly not buying my casual tone. "You two seemed pretty deep in conversation up there."

I should shut this down now. Katty isn't just my sister's best friend.

She's also at least ten years younger than me, based on what she said about college.

She lives here in Sweetheart County; I have responsibilities back in Cedar Falls.

In a few days, once this Dylan situation is handled, I'll be gone.

But then Katty looks at me with those green eyes that see too much, and logical thought becomes surprisingly difficult.

"Just getting to know each other," Katty explains smoothly. "Since I've heard about the famous Tank for years but never met him."

"Famous, huh?" I raise an eyebrow at my sister. "What exactly have you been saying about me?"

Lilly grins. "Only the good stuff. Like how you used to let me ride on your shoulders at the state fair when I was little. Or how you taught me to change a tire when I was twelve."

"Or how you once punched Billy Miller in the face for calling her Silly Lilly in seventh grade?" Katty adds with a smirk.

I wince. "You told her about that?"

"I tell Katty everything," Lilly says pointedly, and there's a warning in her tone that doesn't escape me. She's protective of her friend—making sure I know that whatever happened on that Ferris wheel, Katty isn't just some random woman.

Message received, little sister.

"It's getting late," I say, checking my watch. Nearly midnight. "We should probably head out."

Lilly's face falls slightly. "Already? But you just got here, and we haven't even had hot chocolate yet!"

"Hot chocolate?" I repeat.

"It's tradition," Katty explains. "Can't leave the Sweetheart County Fair without having Ma Calloway's hot chocolate. It's kind of famous around here."

"The best in the state," Lilly adds. "Please, Tank? Just one more thing before we go?"

I look between them. My sister's pleading expression and Katty's challenging one. I've never been good at denying Lilly anything, and apparently, I'm developing the same weakness when it comes to Katty.

"Fine," I concede. "One hot chocolate, then we're leaving."

Lilly claps her hands together in victory before linking her arm through mine. "This way. Ma's stand is by the craft barn."

As we navigate through the thinning crowd, I keep alert for any sign of Dylan or his friends, but the fairgrounds seem peaceful. Most families with young children have already left, leaving mostly teenagers and couples enjoying the late-night atmosphere of the midway.

The hot chocolate stand is a small wooden structure with a hand-painted sign and Christmas lights strung along its awning despite it being the middle of summer. An elderly woman with white hair piled high on her head presides over a row of simmering pots.

"Lilly Parker!" she calls out when she spots us. "I was wondering if you'd make it by tonight."

"Wouldn't miss it, Ma," Lilly responds warmly. "Three of your specials, please."

"Coming right up, honey." Ma's eyes travel over me curiously. "And who's this strapping young man? Don't think I've seen you around these parts before."

"This is my brother, Tank," Lilly introduces.

Ma surveys me with shrewd eyes that miss nothing. Not the cuts on my knuckles, not the patch on my back, not the way I position myself to keep sight lines clear.

"Well, anyone who's kin to our Lilly is welcome here," she finally says. "First cup's on the house."

Before I can protest, she's already pouring thick, dark chocolate into three oversized mugs, topping each with a generous swirl of whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon.

"Best enjoyed while it's hot," Ma advises as she hands them over.

We move to a nearby picnic table, the last patrons at this quiet corner of the fairgrounds. The first sip of hot chocolate is a revelation—rich and velvety, with hints of something deeper than just cocoa.

"She adds cayenne," Katty explains, noticing my surprised expression. "And a splash of something stronger, though she'll never admit it."

"It's good," I acknowledge, taking another sip. The heat and spice cut through the sweetness, creating a perfect balance.

"Told you," Lilly says smugly, already sporting a whipped cream mustache. "Worth staying for, right?"

I have to admit it is, though I'm not sure if that's because of the hot chocolate or the company.

Sitting here in the glow of the Christmas lights with Lilly happy and relaxed beside me and Katty across from me, her face softened by the golden light, I feel something unfamiliar—a moment of peace, maybe. Or belonging.

It's dangerous to get used to this feeling. I have responsibilities waiting for me. As the newest member of the inner circle, I'm in charge of training the prospects, showing them the ropes, making sure they understand what it means to wear the patch. The club is counting on me.

"You've got a little..." Katty points to her upper lip, looking at me with amusement.

I swipe at my mouth with the back of my hand, but based on her laugh, I've missed it.

"No, it's—here," she says, leaning forward across the table.

Before I can react, her thumb brushes across my upper lip, wiping away the whipped cream I'd apparently been sporting. The casual touch shouldn't affect me the way it does—a jolt of electricity running through my face directly into my throbbing bulge.

"Thanks," I manage.

Her eyes linger on mine a beat too long before she sits back. "Can't have the big bad biker looking less than intimidating," she teases.

Lilly snorts into her hot chocolate. "Too late for that. You should see him at Christmas. He wears this ridiculous sweater our grandma knitted him with reindeer on it."

"Lil," I warn, but there's no heat behind it.

"What?" she asks innocently. "It's cute! You're not always scary, you know."

Katty's watching this exchange with a small smile, whipped cream dotting her upper lip now. Without thinking, I reach across the table and brush it away with my thumb, the same way she did for me.

Her skin is soft under my touch, her lips parting slightly in surprise. I let my thumb linger perhaps a second longer than necessary, memorizing the feel of her.

"Can't have the badass librarian looking less than intimidating," I echo her words back to her, my voice low.

Lilly makes a choking sound.

"Oh my God," she sputters. "Did you just…? You never do that. For anyone."

"Shut it, Lil," I mutter, withdrawing my hand.

"No, I'm serious," my sister continues, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "He's like, allergic to PDA. One time his ex-girlfriend tried to fix his collar in public and he practically short-circuited."

"Different circumstances," I say through gritted teeth.

Katty's eyes dance with amusement. She leans toward Lilly. "So what you're saying is, I should be honored?"

"Absolutely," Lilly confirms with exaggerated seriousness.

"Well then," Katty turns to me and winks—actually winks—"thank you for the mustache assistance, Tank. I'm deeply honored."

Goddamn it. The playful teasing, that wink, the way she says my name… It's a sin wrapped in a smile. I drain the rest of my hot chocolate, needing something to do with my hands that doesn't involve reaching for her again.

"If you two are done," I say, setting down my empty mug, "we should get going. It's late, and we need to figure out our next move with Dylan."

The mention of his name sobers the mood instantly. Lilly's smile fades, and Katty straightens, the playfulness in her eyes replaced by resolve.

"You're right," Katty agrees. "And he knows where Lilly lives, so she shouldn't go back to her apartment tonight."

"She can stay with me at the motel," I offer.

Katty shakes her head.

"Dylan's dad owns it. Not safe." She gathers our empty mugs. "You can both stay at my place. I've got a spare bedroom and a couch. It's outside town limits, like I mentioned before."

Part of me knows I should decline—spending the night under the same roof as Katty is testing whatever restraint I might have left. But the tactical assessment is sound. Her place is unknown to Dylan and off his radar.

"If you're sure," I say cautiously.

"I am." She returns the mugs to Ma with a wave of thanks, then turns back to us. "Besides, safety in numbers, right?"

"Right," I agree, though safety isn't what I'm feeling when I look at her.

We make our way back through the fairgrounds toward the exit. The crowd has thinned considerably, with vendors beginning to close up their booths. The carnival rides still run, but with fewer riders now, their colored lights spinning against the night sky.

At the parking lot, Lilly yawns widely. The adrenaline crash from the confrontation with Dylan is clearly hitting her.

"I'll ride with Katty," she says, leaning against me briefly. "You can follow us on your bike."

I nod, scanning the parking lot for any sign of Dylan or his friends. "Stay alert. If you notice anyone following, honk twice and I'll move in front of you."

Katty pulls out her keys. "It's about fifteen minutes from here. Mostly back roads."

"I'll be right behind you," I assure them.

As they walk toward Katty's truck, an older model Ford that looks surprisingly well-maintained, I head for my Harley.

The night air has cooled considerably, but I barely notice as I kick the bike to life.

My mind is too full of green eyes and challenging smiles and the feel of soft skin beneath my thumb.

I follow the red taillights of Katty's truck out of the fairgrounds and onto the country roads that wind through Sweetheart County. True to her word, she takes us along back routes, avoiding the main roads where we might be spotted.

The rhythm of the ride usually centers me, clears my head. Tonight, it fails. All I can think about is what's waiting at the end of this road—a night under Katty's roof, the promise of her presence just a room away.

I'm leaving in a few days. I have responsibilities, commitments. A life built around the club and the brotherhood I've found there. Getting tangled up with Katty, no matter how appealing the prospect, is a complication I don't need.

The truck stops in front of a small but well-kept farmhouse, just as Katty described—wraparound porch, blue door, set back from the road among a cluster of oak trees. Light spills from the windows she must have left on, casting a warm glow onto the porch steps.

As I park my bike beside her truck and kill the engine, I take a deep breath of the cool night air. One problem at a time. First, keep Lilly safe from Dylan. Then worry about keeping myself safe from whatever spell Katty seems to be casting over me.

Based on tonight's evidence, I suspect the first challenge will prove far easier than the second.