And she could get back to her main mission.
Yes. Simple.
* * *
“Excuse me!” She spotted him several feet away heading towards a row of motorcycles. She wondered how he could tell them apart; they all looked the same to her. “Mr. Spike? Could you wait up for a moment?”
Nothing. He just kept walking away. Hmm. Nobody mentioned he was deaf.
With a sigh, she started to run.
Running was not something she liked to do. Her body was not made to run. All of her bits jiggled. Her ass. Her thighs. Her tummy.
Her boobs.
Her boobs, in particular, hated running. In fact, they often mutinied by bouncing right on out of her bra. This is why she avoided running.
Shoot. There it went. Boob popage. Really, men had it so easy. Sure, they might take the occasional hit to the balls, but really. Periods. Boobs. Childbirth. Women had it far harder.
But she managed to get close enough to reach out and grab his arm. “Mr. Spike, I—”
She startled so badly as he suddenly turned that she stumbled backwards and tripped over her own feet, landing on her ass. She managed to keep hold of her bag, cradling Mr. Fluffy on her lap. No doubt he was wondering what all the jostling was about.
She opened the bag, peering in. Mr. Fluffy gave her a look that loosely translated to what the fuck, lady.
Ouch, that landing was going to leave bruises.
The big biker loomed over her.
Well, he could offer to help her stand! How rude. She used one hand to try and push herself up, holding onto her handbag with her other hand. Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up onto her feet.
She gaped at him. He was strong. Really strong. Nobody had picked her up in years. And he’d done it so effortlessly. Standing next to him, she got more of a sense of how big he was. At barely five feet tall, Millie was short. But she wasn’t light. He had to be at least a foot taller and his shoulders were twice as wide.
Holy. Hell.
And here she was in a dark parking lot with him. Alone.
Too late now to worry about your safety, foolish girl.
Fear made her heart race and her tummy clench. So she did the only thing she could think of to get past her discomfort. She shoved it deep inside, into that box she l
oosely labelled as shit she didn’t want to touch.
And she smiled at him.
He gave her a look back like he thought she was a freaking lunatic.
Hey, not the first time she’d seen that look. Not even the first time tonight she’d seen that look.
“Thank you,” she told him, wishing she could put her boob back in the cup of her bra. So annoying. She shifted around.
Wait. Why was she thanking him? It was his fault she’d landed on her ass. If he hadn’t turned so suddenly . . .
She frowned then shook it off. Spilled milk, Millie.
“Why are you running after me, yelling?”
“You mean you heard me call out to you?” She scowled up at him then pushed a finger into his chest. “Why didn’t you stop?”