Sinful Protector (Roughshod Rollers MC 2)

It took almost a week for me to convince Kyle that I was really okay with being driven around on his motorbike, which was, admittedly, my own fault. It’s not my favorite pastime, but I certainly don’t mind pressing close to Kyle for warmth and security as the wind whips through me. In the end, I got tired of his stubbornness and marched into a specialty store to buy my own helmet and jacket, and met him outside one day.

The look on his face was priceless.

I told him I don’t want to go everywhere on the bike, though, and he compromised by buying a small car off Brooks. He got it for cheap because Brooks told him it needed fixing up, and he worked on it for several days to get it ready for us. Now it sits in my parking spot under my apartment for whenever we want to use it.

“Hey,” Kyle says, frowning down at a box. “What’s this doing here?”

“My mother brought it over on Thursday,” I explain as I stand.

Kyle rolls his eyes at me and bends down to pick the box up. I hide a grin behind my hand as he carries it to my cupboard. True to his word, he came around to help me unpack and clean my apartment when I moved here, and he tends to pick up after me when he visits. Jacqui is already joking about how he just needs to move in so he only has to keep one apartment clean.

“Sorry,” I say to him, trying not to laugh. “I can unpack it when we get back.”

“I’m sure you will,” Kyle says dryly; he doesn’t sound like he believes me.

I duck into my room and giggle. It’s honestly hilarious to see Kyle, with his messy hair, rough beard and broad build, fussing over the cleanliness of my apartment.

My helmet is sitting near my dresser, where I dropped it the other day, and my jacket is lying at the end of my bed. I retrieve them both and leave my room, unable to help the grin that spreads over my face.

“Ready?” Kyle asks.

“Ready,” I confirm, shrugging my jacket on and zipping it up. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Not until we get there,” Kyle says.

He looks pleased, so I don’t bother him as we leave the apartment, firmly locking the door behind us. Mr. Hudson is still out the front, chatting with Mrs. Foster from next door, and they both frown at us as we leave. It’s like having two Mrs. Phillips living near me. I just grin at them both and put my helmet on.

We mount the bike and I scoot close to Kyle. This is definitely my favorite part of riding the bike. I can feel his muscles shifting in my tight hold, and the engine roars to life beneath us. Then we pull away from the curb and into traffic.

I close my eyes and lay my head against Kyle’s back. I don’t like to watch as we weave among the cars, so I just listen to the world moving around me. All too soon, though, we slow to a stop, and I open my eyes, wondering where we are.

It doesn’t look like anywhere special, just a small park with lots of trees and bushes. There’s a children’s playset over in the corner and there are shrieks of laughter coming from it as a few kids run around. I pass this park all the time.

“Why are we here?” I ask, confused.

“Just wait,” Kyle says, stepping off the bike and helping me down.

We lock it up and enter the park. Kyle veers into the trees, where it’s denser and more closed off from the outside world. I follow him blindly, grateful for the leather jacket that protects my arms from the scratching branches.

Finally, Kyle comes to a stop, and I lean around him, interested what all the secrecy is about. My eyes widen.

“A picnic?” I ask, blinking. “You’re taking me on a picnic?”

“Yeah,” Kyle says with a small smile.

It isn’t fancy, just a large plaid blanket on the ground with a wicker basket sitting beside it. But it’s the thought that counts and I smile as I lean against Kyle.

“Wow,” I say. “I didn’t expect this. What’s it for?”

“I just thought it would be nice,” Kyle says with a shrug.

I laugh and punch him lightly on the shoulder. “Better not let your friends see it. What would they think about big, rough Kyle sitting down for a picnic with his girlfriend?”

&nbs

p; Kyle glances at me, his eyes serious. “If they say anything, I’d tell them to fuck off and let me enjoy my picnic.”

I laugh. But then he turns around and puts his hands on my shoulders.