T.A. (Biker Bitches 6)

“Because the manager hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet.” She shrugged, wiggling her fuzzy-sock-covered toes farther under his thigh. “Do you really own sixty-one motorcycles?”

Using the puzzle book to cover the bulge that was beginning to tent his new sweat pants, he tried to slow her down, seeing the rapid-fire movements of her pencil.

“That question wasn’t for the game; it was a necessity.”

She wasn’t fazed. “It still counts. I answered it. Do you really own—”

“No, I don’t,” he snapped. “Do you have a blanket we could use to keep warm?”

“There’s one on the bottom of my bed. Help yourself. How many motorcycles do you own?”

Halfway off the couch, he turned his disbelieving gaze on her. “You’re not going to take a time-out while I get the blanket?”

“Hell, no. I want those truffles. Besides, you didn’t ask for one. How many—”

“Two.” He raked a hand through his hair to keep from strangling her. “Time-out.”

She lowered her book to her lap. “You’ve got sixty seconds.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

She blew him a kiss. “You’re not the first dude to say that.”

Hurrying to the door she had gone in to change, he grabbed the blanket, taking a brief curious glance around before he hurried back to the couch. Spreading half of the blanket over her, Dalton settled back down on the couch before covering the lower half of his body with the rest.

“Are those boxes in your bedroom Christmas gifts too?”

“No. What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food?”

“The rolls. What’s in the boxes?”

“My ex-boyfriend’s shit. What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Chocolate cake. Why hasn’t he gotten his things?”

“I don’t know. Bear’s not answering my texts, and I can’t find him to ask him. Is Cassandra Manning really a bitch to work with?”

“No, she’s actually sweet. Most of the rumors saying she’s hard to work with come from jealous bitches. Why don’t you get rid of them yourself?”

“Been thinking of it. Just haven’t had the time yet. Are Cassandra and Zeke having an affair?”

“No.” Giving up trying to find an apple, he tried to find the cat. He was going to lose again. Wanting to growl in frustration, he asked the first question that came to his mind. He couldn’t find an apple, and T.A. was spitting questions at him, working the puzzle and texting someone on her phone. “Which of your friends do you like the best?”

“I love them all the same. How tall are you without shoes on?”

“Six four. You have to like one more than the others. Which one?”

“I really don’t. Are your teeth real, or are they veneers?”

“They’re real. Does Sex Piston have a favorite?”

“Yes. Did you really jump onto the back of the tractor trailer, or did a stunt double do it?”

“I did it. How come you get to ask double questions and I don’t?”

“Because you answer them.” She laughed without looking at him.

He couldn’t hold the growl back this time. “Who’s Sex Piston’s favorite?”

“Killyama. Crazy Bitch is a close second. I threw that in as freebie. Who’s the worst person you’ve had to work with on a movie?”

“Neven Foster.” He was starting to wise up, not answering more than he had to. “Who’s Killyama’s?”

“Sex Piston. Why didn’t you like working with him?”

“He thought it was hilarious to cut gas when a scene started. Who’s Crazy Bitch’s?”

“Sex Piston, Killyama, and Fat Louise. Would you ever work with him again?”

“No.” Frowning, he looked at T.A., who was seemingly unconcerned that so far none of her friends were picking her as their favorite. “Who’s Fat Louise’s?”

“Crazy Bitch, Sex Piston, and Killyama. Have you ever been attracted to any of the actresses you worked with?”

“No. Does it bother you that none of your friends pick you as their favorite?”

“No. Have you ever been attracted to any of the actors you worked with?”

“No. Why not?”

She shrugged, not raising her head from the puzzle book. “I guess I’m not the jealous type. I never have been. Besides, how could I be jealous when I love them all the same? Who’s your favorite comic book hero?”

“The Hulk.” Smiling at her laughter, he almost didn’t ask the next question, but he wanted the answer. “Do they love you as much as you love them?”

“Yes. I’m the filler. What size shoes do you wear?”

“Eleven. What’s a filler?”

“You know, like when one of them wants someone to go shopping with them when everyone else is busy, or someone to go to movies with that no one else wants to see, or take to dinner, so they don’t have to eat alone in a restaurant. That’s a filler. Who is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met?”

Dalton didn’t know which choked him up more, that T.A. considered herself a filler among her groups of friends or her question.

“Oceane. Who’s the best-looking man you’ve ever met?”

It was the only question that he had been able to lift her head to stare at him. For a second, he thought she was about to say him because she was staring at him, then he realized she was thinking.