Page 44 of The Biker and the Baker

No one responds as fast as I want them to, even though it shows they're active online. Jerks.

Welp, whatever trouble I get myself into is all on them, not me. I cried out for help and no one heard me. What's a girl to do? Trouble awaits and I'm about to dive right in. From toxic slutbag Calvin Granger to head-trip Onyx. Something is seriously wrong with me.

At the sound of the shower going off, I frantically tap out a message to Mira and Lissa again.

Me:Bitches! I'm about to spread for my (kinda) boss…

Me:Tell me not to do it.

Lissa:Do it.

Lissa:He's HOTTT

Why did I expect sound advice from Lissa? She's all about sexual liberation. Have sex first, ask questions never. Where’s Mira?Arrgh.

Frustrated, I toss my phone down and pad back to the kitchen. What on Earth am I even so anxious about? One would think I'm about to lose my V card with how on edge I am. I'm Pia Saxena, dammit. I don't get nervous about sex, I'mbossat it. So what the heck? What's so different about Onyx?

Nothing. That's what. And I need to chill the hell out.

Chill, yes, that’s the word. And in order to do that, I need chamomile, or peppermint. I rummage through his cupboard in search of it but find none. Of course, a man like Onyx isn’t stashing chamomile in his cupboard.

"Pia."

"Hmm?" Eyes wide as if caught with my hand in the cookie jar, I whip around. But he's not even close to me, which is confusing.

“Pia, c’mere. Bedroom.”

Oh.Wait, when did he leave the bathroom? "In a minute."

I dawdle about the kitchen, searching for something,anythingthat could offer me some calm. Valium, Xanax, Cannabis…

There’s nothing.

"Pia," Onyx calls again. “What’re you doing out there?”

Blowing out a breath, I get over my nonsense nerves and pad to the bedroom.

I anticipated many things, but finding him fully dressed in sweats and a wifebeater isn't one of them.

He frowns at me from across the room as he applies lip balm to his succulent lips. "You good? What were you doing?"

"Looking for teabags."And sedatives.

"You won't find any. It’s ginger or garlic tea only for me, and I brew naturally, no teabags."

"Hm."

So, this is the room I strongly avoided during my tour last week. A futile effort that’d been, seeing as I’m right here one week later.

It’s much larger than I expected and carries the same black and beige theme as the rest of the RV. Except the floor in here is covered in soft, fluffy gray carpeting.

Everything is, of course, built-in, high-polished, and beautifully designed; chest of drawers, dresser, mirrored closet, nightstands, and leather-tufted headboard. Got to give it to him, the man’s got taste.

While picking up a remote from the nightstand, he jerks his head to the bed and orders, "Get in, Sweet P."

Contemplating, I twist my lips to the side. "How many skinny chickens have been in that bed?"

He points the remote at the wall, distracted as he answers, "None."