5 Bikers for Valentines

“Plans, huh?” he said, in that smooth, sexy drawl of his. “Nothing that can be changed?”

“I'm pretty sure they're set in stone,” I said with a laugh. “But, you can always talk to your brother about that.”

“Bennett?” he asked.

“The other one.”

“Dammit. Cason. The little shit. I should've known,” he muttered under his breath. There was silence on the line for a second, but when he came back on the line, he still didn't seem deterred. “What are you up to right now?”

“Just walking home from the coffee house,” I said.

“So, I guess that means you're probably near Boulevard Books, right?”

I looked across the street at the brick building and smiled fondly, remembering that I'd spent a lot of time as a child.

“I am,” I said. “Right across the street, actually. But, how did –”

“Perfect,” he said. “I'm just finishing up at the restaurant, want to meet me here? “

Driftwood was two doors down from the bookstore. I looked over at the restaurant, which had a new coat of paint and a deck that had been added on since the last time I'd been home. I had no excuse not to step inside and say hello. “Sure,” I said. “But I can only stay for a minute.”

“Great. See you in a few,” he said before hanging up.

Dammit, these McCormick brothers apparently weren't going to let me get away that easily. I smiled as I slipped my phone back into my pocket though. Like I'd told Jenn, I'd be lying through my teeth if I said it wasn't flattering. This sort of ego boost could be dangerous if I didn't keep it – and myself – under control.

Looking both ways before crossing, I strolled across the street to the restaurant. And as I pulled open the heavy wood door, I was greeted by yet another McCormick boy. Bennett was standing at the front of the restaurant, talking to one of his waiters. He was wearing black dress slacks and a dark blue button-up shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and showed off his muscular build. He looked over at me when I walked in, giving me a double take. When he saw it was me, a dashing smile that could have lit up Times Square spread across his face as he excused himself from the guy he'd been chatting with and made his way over to me.

“Can't get enough of our BBQ chicken, can you?” he asked.

“No, it's amazing. But, actually, I'm here to see your brother,” I said. “Quinn called and asked me to stop by.”

“Of course he did,” Bennett said, shaking his head, not able to hide the hint of annoyance in his voice. “He's just finishing a couple of things up in the kitchen, give him a few minutes, will ya?”

“Sure,” I said. “I don't mind waiting.”

“Come, sit at the bar,” he said.

Without waiting for me to respond, he took my arm and led through the restaurant. Half the tables were empty as people began trickling out. Lunch hour for most folks was drawing to a close. He patted a seat for me to take and then slipped behind the bar.

“So, what can I get you to drink?” he asked, flashing me that million-dollar smile.

“Oh, I'm good,” I said. “But, thank you.”

“I insist,” he said.

“Well, if you insist,” I said, giving him a little smile. “I'll just have a Coke then, please.”

He poured me a Coke and handed it to me, refusing my money when I handed him a few dollars.

“It's on me,” he said.

“I still owe you for my dinner last night,” I said, taking a sip.

“That was on me too,” he said. “But, if you were to insist on paying me back, I was hoping you might be free tonight?”

“I can't,” I said, cringing at having to reject yet another invitation for the evening. “I have plans.”

“Let me guess, Quinn?”