Page 11 of The Biker's Brother

She looked indignant.

“I certainly do. And what do you mean ‘a girl like me’?”

He narrowed his eyes and glanced at her.

“Okay. If you really listen to country music then tell me one thing about Garth Brooks that only somebody who was a fan would know.”

Without hesitating she said, “He actually wanted to be a rock star, but when he opened his mouth to sing, country came out instead of rock. So he gave into it and owned it. Although he did steal the showmanship the rock stars had perfected by then.”

Brandon had no idea if that was true, but because she said it with so much authority, and because it wasn’t the kind of thing a person would be likely to make up on the fly, he believed her.

“Alright. We’ll take turns.”

“Good. Me first.”

He nodded just slightly. “Find your station.”

She seemed to perk up at the small victory.

“How do you get satellite?”

Brandon smirked. “Seriously? How sheltered are you?” She frowned at the question and said nothing, since she had no idea how to answer. “This car is too old for satellite. You got radio. That’s it. Make do.”

She set to work turning the dial. He even got a little smile after she settled on a station. After all that work, before the first song was over, she was slumped against the passenger door, sound asleep.

He looked over at her sleeping form and shook his head. He could have changed the station but thought it might wake her and, for some reason, he didn’t want to disturb her. So he was stuck with listening to twang and fiddle for what turned out to be hours. By the time she woke, he was beginning to tap his fingers on the steering wheel and was thinking country might not be allthatbad.

CHAPTER THREE

West Virginia

When she opened her eyes, she was looking out the passenger window at trees. The radio was forecasting heavy rain coming their way and stalling over the area for a couple of days.

She heard him say, “Good,” under his breath.

She turned far enough to see the clock on the dashboard, briefly glancing at Brandon. She’d been asleep for hours. As she sat up straighter she realized she must have been out like a light because she’d slept through the discomfort of acquiring a crick in her neck.

“You’re still listening to country?”

“Yes. But it’s not the same station. We’re too far away.”

“Why didn’t you change it to codger rock?”

“Codger rock? That’s just mean,” he scolded. “Can’t pick up a station here. These hillbillies’ mamas don’t dance and their daddies don’t rock and roll.”

“Is that some obscure musical reference?”

“It’s not obscure if you understand it.”

She began trying to stretch out the kink in her neck drawing Brandon’s attention to the rolling of her shoulders. The way her shoulder blades moved inside the knit top she wore was, well, sexy. For that matter, the knit top looked soft to touch and was kind of sexy, too.

He almost slapped himself when he realized that his thoughts were headed south of the steering wheel.Come on, Brand. It’s a job. Not a pick up.Remember, it’s just business.

“We’re close to White Sulphur Springs.”

Her voice brought him back to the moment.

“You’ve been here before?”