Curly (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 1)

Suddenly, Ray’s head popped up, and his ears stood at attention. Then, he let out a loud woof and took off like a shot across the yard toward the gate. Of course, once he started running, the rest of the dogs grew interested, and soon the entire pack was yipping and yapping by the gate.

“Looks like your chariot has arrived.”

“Waaah. Do you think if I throw a tantrum, he’ll let me stay and play longer?” Nancy sat up, as did Brooke just as the gate opened. “Hey, bab—well, well, well, look who it is.” Her grin radiated with evil glee.

Curly strode into the backyard, utterly unfazed by the dogs' attention. And it was pretty enthusiastic. Jack stuck nudged his head into Curly’s hand while a pug puppy Brooke was pretty sure she would never be able to part with tugged at the laces on his boots. The rest of them ran circles around him, jumping for his hands in a shameless bid for affection.

“Ladies,” he said with a lifted hand before crouching down to give the dogs love.

“Holy orgasmic wonderfulness,” Nancy mouthed as she fanned herself.

Brooke peeked at her phone. “He’s two hours early,” she whispered. “Hand me my towel, I need to cover up.”

“This towel?” Nancy asked as she reached for one of the towels folded at the bottom of her lounge chair. “Oops.”

Brooke’s eyes widened as she watched the towel flutter into the pool.

“My bad,” Nancy said in the most insincere tone Brooke had ever heard. “It just fell from my hands.”

“I hate you,” she mouthed, only to be met with a shit-eating grin from her ex-best friend.

By then, Curly was making his way toward the lanai with the crew of dogs in tow. He walked with the kind of confident swagger that bordered on arrogance but never crossed the line. The man was truly a treat to look at. Thick thighs, toned arms, tanned skin, tattoos, and that curly hair falling almost to his shoulders. “Sorry, I’m so early. I was close by and took a chance you’d be home. I can scram if I’m interrupting.”

Brooke stood, wearing nothing but her damp bikini with no choice but to greet him or risk being awkward and rude. Oh, God, the sexiest man she’d ever met was about to glimpse more of her forty-one-year-old body than any man ever had.

“Hey! It’s no problem at all. We’re just hanging out.” Whoa, the combination of alcohol and sun had her feeling a little tipsier than she’d realized. To say Nancy had was a heavy-handed pourer was like saying her dogs kinda liked bacon: major understatement.

The moment Curly’s eyes landed on her, his steps faltered, and his eyes darkened. Beside her, wrapping a towel around her waist, Nancy, the traitor, snickered. “Someone likes what they see,” she muttered from the corner of her mouth.

Brooke swatted her friend’s arm. “Shut up.”

A horn honked from her driveway. The dogs started barking and zoomed toward the gate once again.

“Oh! That must be David. Gotta run. Don’t wanna keep my man waiting. Toodles, you two!” With a cheery wave, she practically sprinted out of the lanai. After gifting smooches and rubs to all the dogs in the yard, Nancy vanished, and Brooke was left alone with Curly, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

His gaze traveled every inch of her skin, heating her flesh more than the scorching Florida sun. He wasn’t attempting to disguise his blatant perusal of her. Beneath the damp cups of her bathing suit top, her nipples tightened, and she prayed there was enough padding in the suit to keep him from noticing. From the way his eyes lingered at chest level, she wasn’t feeling too confident in the bathing suit’s lining.

Brooke cleared her throat. “Um, just let me dash inside and get dressed. Then I’ll gather everything you need to get your new baby home.”

“Take your time. These guys can keep me company.” He strode back out into the yard.

“Okay.” She turned and speed-walked toward her house, aware of his gaze on her ass the entire time.

“Hey, Brooke?” he called out just as she reached the French doors leading inside her home.

“Yeah?” She turned.

“Nice bathing suit.”

“T-thanks,” she squeaked.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

She scurried into the house and rested against the door with a hand over her pounding heart. Was it fear? Excitement? Who the hell knew? All Brooke knew was that the man sent her heart racing, her stomach fluttering, and her head spinning.

But it wasn’t in a bad way. More in an overwhelming, tingly kind of way.

Ten minutes later, fully clothed and appearing much more professional, she’d gathered all the supplies and paperwork Curly would need for his first few days of puppy parenthood.

“You know,” he said as she emerged back outside. “You didn’t have to change on my account.” He winked.