Blood & Bones: Ozzy (Blood Fury MC 9)

The motel employee named Ozzy jerked his head toward the open stairway behind him. “Live upstairs.”

“Oh…” She frowned. “Does that mean you are the owner?” If so, why wouldn’t he have said that when she handed him her business card?

“Manager.”

He was once again behind the counter but casually leaning into it. She didn’t miss it when his eyes took a slow stroll from the top of her pinned-up, heavily hair-sprayed hair to her open-toed heels. She smoothed out her blouse, drawing his gaze back there, even though she didn’t mean to.

“You must work long hours then, since you checked me in early this morning and now it’s…” She glanced at the gold Movado watch with the black dial her mother bought her when she graduated with honors from Bloomsburg. “After five.”

She normally didn’t wear a watch, but figured tonight was a special occasion and she wanted to feel like her mother was with her. Especially since her mother had always been her strength and encouragement.

Even so, she had a pit in her stomach and was feeling anxious. Not to mention, a little nauseous.

“I’m sure it’s too late to switch my room now. I slept like the dead all day.” The noise from the office being next door didn’t disturb her at all like he thought it might.

“Yeah. Fully booked now. Thought about wakin’ you up but since you said you needed the sleep, decided not to disturb you. You were right.”

“About what?”

“Most of the guests checkin’ in today were for your class reunion.”

She wondered if they volunteered that information or he asked them just as many questions as he’d asked her.

She stepped up to the counter and stared at the tattooed man with the neatly trimmed, but thick, salt-and-pepper beard, the beautiful gray eyes and the very broad shoulders. He was now dressed in jeans, a black leather belt with a clunky metal belt buckle and another T-shirt—this one advertising some Harley Davidson dealership in Idaho—that fit much better, unlike the stretched-out, stained plain black tee he had worn earlier.

His hair now looked somewhat combed, too, unlike this morning when his very dark blonde, but mostly gray, hair was sticking up all over the place, like he’d just rolled out of bed. The “pepper” part of his beard seemed to be much darker than his hair. But then, most men’s facial hair was darker than the hair on their heads. The wiry hairs below the belt tended to be darker, too.

Now it made sense why he’d looked that disheveled during check-in. Since he lived upstairs, she must have woken him when she came in as early as she had.

Another difference easily spotted was the long black beaded necklace he wore around his neck. It was long enough to almost reach his navel and reminded her of Boho-style jewelry. She wondered if it had any special meaning or if he just wore it because he liked it. Maybe it was something spiritual for him, similar to a rosary.

Since it wasn’t her business, she didn’t ask, unlike him earlier when he asked her all kinds of questions.

She didn’t like when strangers asked her personal questions like that, but maybe he was just being overly friendly and didn’t realize it had been on the verge of making her uncomfortable. Talking about her business was one thing, she could talk about that all day since sometimes it drummed up more work, but anything else…

While she was checking out the black beaded necklace, trying to figure out what the symbol was on the bottom, he grabbed it and dropped it into the neckline of his shirt, hiding it from her view.

“That’s beautiful, why hide it?” she asked, putting him in the same spot as he had earlier when he told her not to hide her face when she laughed. Or smiled.

A habit she’d had since she was an awkward teen and had not been able to break since then. She did it more when she was anxious or her reactions were being closely watched. Like the way he was watching her this morning.

“Gets in the way,” he muttered.

Ah, maybe now he was uncomfortable. But she respected that and wouldn’t push. She would love to take a closer look at the necklace since it seemed to be hand-crafted by some artisan and not a mass-produced piece anyone could simply grab at a local jewelry store. She would also love to know the meaning behind it.

The beads reminded her of something a free-spirited individual would wear and wondered how free the man before her was.

He was tied to this office. Tied to his work, really, if he only lived upstairs.

Once again, her nervousness about the upcoming reunion and seeing classmates she hadn’t seen in twenty years, made her fuss with her silk blouse. And once again, his eyes were drawn to her motion, but paused on her breasts.