A couple hours later the house exploded.

Gas leak.

Nobody said it was my fault, but I knew it had to be. I’d been the last one to use the stove, so there you have it. Anyway, fate has a weird sense of humor, because that’s how I met Painter. The next day, I mean. At the hospital.

He gave me a lift on his motorcycle, and I fell in love. God I was young. Young and stupid.

________

“I sort of thought you meant a car when you said you’d give me a ride home,” I whispered, staring at the tall, beautiful, terrifyingly perfect man standing in front of a shiny black Harley with custom gold trim. He’d been introduced to me as Painter, and apparently he was part of the same motorcycle club as Loni’s new boyfriend, Reese.

“She did have a head injury,” London pointed out, her voice tart. She held my arm protectively, staring between me and Painter with worry written all over her face.

“Sort of thought the car was implied,” said Reese, sighing.

“You didn’t say and it’s not like she’s really hurt or anything,” Painter replied with a shrug. He glanced at me. “You got a headache?” I did, but he was so pretty and perfect and I didn’t want to jinx this. Blond, spiky hair. Strong, straight cheekbones and muscular arms that I just knew would be strong enough to pick up a girl like me and carry me wherever I needed to go.

“No, I don’t actually,” I said, feeling nervous but excited, too. I shot another look at the bike, imagining what it would feel like to sit behind him, holding him as we flew down the highway. “Although they said no sudden movements.”

“So you’ll hold on tight,” Painter said, eyes playing with mine. He licked his lip and I felt my insides twitch.

Ohmygodhe’ssohotandhe’slookingrightatme!

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Reese said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “I’ll call someone else.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said quickly, hoping Mr. Hot Bod wouldn’t change his mind about giving me a ride. “I’ll try riding the bike.”

I’ll try riding you, sexy . . .

Wow. Those kind of pervy thoughts weren’t like me at all. Painter winked and I would’ve fainted on the spot if I wasn’t so damned healthy and not the fainting type. Shame, too, because he’d totally catch me with those muscular arms of his. I could sense it. I gave him a little smile, hoping I wasn’t coming off as dorky.

“You watch yourself with her,” London snapped, crossing her arms and jutting out a hip. I stared at her, shocked—that wasn’t like Loni at all. Had she just ruined it for me?

Painter raised a brow.

“Fuckin’ priceless, prez,” he said, then smiled at me again, a smile so beautiful that it made me dizzy. You’re dizzy because you have a concussion, my common sense pointed out.

I gave it a mental finger, because fuck common sense.

“You comin’ or not?” he asked, swaggering over to his bike and climbing on. Deliberately avoiding London’s gaze, I followed him, hopping up behind before he had a chance to change his mind.

“Hold on, babe,” he told me, his voice low and smooth. Like whiskey. Not that I drank much whiskey, but I’d had some at our high school graduation party, at the beginning of the summer. Putting my hands up, I touched the sides of his hips hesitantly. He caught them, pulling them tight around his stomach. I could feel his hard abs through the thin fabric of his shirt, and smell the leather of his motorcycle vest thingie. My entire front was leaning against his entire back, and I felt dizzy again. Then he reached down and touched my knee, giving it a quick squeeze.

Oh. My. God.

________

The ride took about ten minutes. Ten glorious minutes that included a short stretch of highway as we left Coeur d’Alene behind, which meant we got to go fast. Then he was pulling off and parking in front of an old farmstead that had a well-lived in, well-loved kind of wear around the edges. He turned off the bike, and the sudden absence of noise and vibration left my ears ringing. We sat there for a minute as I collected my thoughts. He touched my knee again. “Gotta let go if you want off the bike, babe,” he said softly.

I jerked my hands back instantly, wondering how big of an ass I’d made of myself. Then I was scrambling to get off, looking everywhere but his face because I couldn’t bear to see him looking disgusted, or worse yet, sorry for me.

“Come on,” he said, touching the small of my back gently, guiding me toward the porch. “I’ve got the code to get you inside. You can go crash for a while, get some rest.”

“Thanks,” I said, daring to look up at him. His eyes were everywhere, scanning the yard for what, I had no idea. Five minutes later we were upstairs, looking at what had to be a girl’s bedroom.

“You can stay in here, Em won’t mind,” he told me. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

“Who’s Em?” I asked.

“President’s daughter,” he answered, and his voice held a hint of something. Not sadness, but . . . something. “She’s a little older than you, about my age. Get some rest.”

I waited until I heard his footsteps going down the stairs before I pulled off my jeans and climbed into the bed. My head really was hurting now, and while they’d given me pain meds at the hospital, I wouldn’t be able to take another dose for a while longer. Lying there, I stared at the ceiling, wondering what Painter was doing downstairs.

Did he have a girlfriend?

Right, like it even mattered. He’d been sweet to me, but he was probably sweet to little old ladies, too. Guys like that didn’t go for girls like me.

Girls who were nothing.

The thought hurt, but eventually I drifted off. When I woke it was nearly five. Wandering downstairs, I found Loni and Reese sitting in the living room, her perched on his lap as they talked quietly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” I said, feeling like an intruder.

“Don’t worry about it,” Reese replied, sounding resigned. Loni pushed off him, then came over to study me carefully. She was shorter than I was, and I felt awkward and gawky next to her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her eyes sharp.

“Good, my head hardly hurts at all,” I said, and this time it was the truth. “Although I’m starving.”

Then I snapped my mouth shut, because it sounded like I was begging for food, which I guess I was. I mean, I was sort of trapped here, out in the country at a strange house owned by a man I didn’t even know, and whose only tie to me was that he was sleeping with my best friend’s aunt.

That’s pretty damned tenuous.

Loni smiled. “If you’re hungry, that means you’re healthy. I picked up some new clothes for you earlier. They’re in the bag.”

She pointed to a Target bag sitting on the floor next to the stairwell. I’d just leaned over to grab it when Painter walked into the room from the back of the house.

“How you doin’?” he asked.

“Better,” I managed to reply, feeling shy.

“Get changed and we’ll go out to dinner,” Reese announced. “It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” I said gratefully, then ran upstairs to put on my new clothes. Hopefully Loni had gotten me something cute.

________

Painter invited himself along with us, which pissed Loni off for reasons I couldn’t quite understand. I knew she was protective, but it wasn’t like he was doing anything.

Sure, he’d insisted that I ride with him to the restaurant (which kicked ass, I might add). And he was sitting next to me in the booth, his thick, male thigh pressed up against the side of mine, which gave me little flutters and chills. A couple times he leaned over to ask if my food was all right, and when we finished he draped his arm across the back of the booth, right behind my head.

I’d sat there, wanting him so bad it took everything I had not to shiver. I’d have given anything to kiss him. At one point he even reached down and gave my knee another of those little squeezes, nearly giving me a heart attack.