Porterhouse (Grade-A Beefcakes 4)

“What about you?” she asked, looking at me but reaching for the syrup. She poured it over so each little spot of the waffle was filled. Putting the glass server down, she licked her finger.

I stared. Got hard.

“What?” I asked. When I met her eyes again, she was grinning.

Totally busted, but I didn’t care.

“Did you do auto maintenance in Miami?”

I put my napkin in my lap and picked up my silverware. “Yes, much to my parents’ disappointment. But I’d come here a number of times as a kid, stayed with my uncle. He rubbed off on me.”

“That’s why you’re here now?”

Bennett’s hand stilled, sandwich halfway to his mouth. This was when I could tell her what happened. Let her know the truth about my arrest. About why I was wary of being with a woman, even though this fucking pull I had toward Julia was messing with me. I swallowed and the words wouldn’t come. I couldn’t ruin what we had. Hell, I didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t want it tarnished by Kelly. She’d destroyed enough of my life.

“I was ready for a change last year and my uncle has been saying he wants to retire for a while now. I took him up on the offer to work with him, buy him out.”

“That’s nice. I’m surprised I never met you when you came to visit.”

I looked at her round face, expressive eyes. “You’re what… twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six.”

“I’m thirty-five, even older than Duke, so you’d have been a little kid.”

“I still would have found you cute,” she countered, her eyes twinkling.

I winked at her, bit into a piece of bacon. Bennett laughed and shook his head.

“And you? Motorcycles?” she asked Bennett.

He chewed, swallowed his bite of sandwich.

“Cash and I met at shop class in high school,” he said. “We didn’t have the best grades, but there, we excelled. Cash went into cars; I went into the military. I did helicopter maintenance, took care of the Blackhawk fleet for two tours in Iraq. When I got out, I switched to bikes. It’s not like everyone wants—or, can have—a helicopter in their garage.”

“No, I guess not,” Julia replied, taking a sip of her coffee. Her waffle was half gone.

“When Cash decided to move here, I followed, brought my business with me.”

He didn’t mention he was sick of all the money on display, even though he had plenty of his own. Women who wanted him for his bank account or a bike. Men who buddied up to him to get higher on his wait list. To say they were best buds with the owner of Bennett Bikes. The whole fucking game had gotten old for him and I didn’t mean baseball.

“Will you make me a bike?” she asked, scooping up some hash browns.

I pictured Julia on a motorcycle, in the flirty dress she was wearing. It would ride up those long legs, exposing a gorgeous expanse of thigh. Her pussy would press into the seat, the vibration of the engine getting her all hot and wet.

“Sure. But I’d rather have you on the back of mine.” He leaned in close so no other tables could hear. “I like the idea of your legs wrapped around my waist, pressed up against me nice and tight.”

Her mouth opened slightly and she stared at him, then realized she needed to swallow her food. I smiled, took a sip of coffee. She was so fucking responsive.

“Need a refill on the coffee?” the waitress asked, swinging by our table.

Julia’s mouth snapped shut and she blushed. I grinned, held up the carafe for the waitress to take. “Thanks.”

When she walked off, Julia cleared her throat, shifting in her seat.

I pushed my plate toward her. All that was left was a sunny-side-up egg. “Now you’ll tell us your secrets.”

She stuck her tongue out, staring at the egg, then cocked her head to the side. “Like what? My bra size? That I’m allergic to blueberries? That I had fun last night?”