I feel my face heating at the thought.
Oh wow. A little too much information.
“Oh,” is all I manage to say. “Sounds . . . fun.”
Faye laughs in response. “The men are so dominant. It’s hot. And the storylines are always captivating and unique. Do you read much?”
I nod, knowing this is a question I can answer. “Yeah, at least a book a week.”
“We should start a book club,” she says, nodding her head with her eyes narrowed. “Biker chicks book club. It’s going to be a big thing, I can tell.”
I’m not a biker chick, but I didn’t bother to point that out.
“We should read a few biker books and dissect them for their accuracy,” she says, grinning. “I never read them because most of them are so off base. So I stick to contemporary romances. I like the ones where the heroine is snarky and full of sass, making the hero put up with a lot of shit.”
I purse my lips to hold in my laughter. “Does Sin put up with a lot of shit?”
She smiles, and it reaches her eyes. “You have no idea.”
“You two are so cute!” I blurt out.
Amusement flashes on her face. “Never been called cute before, at least not to my face. I like you, Lana.”
“I like you too,” I reply, glancing down shyly.
“Dex—or Sin as everyone here calls him—and I grew up together. We had a one-night stand, and I ended up getting pregnant with Clover that night,” she says, smirking. “Been harassing his life ever since.”
My eyes widen. “That sounds like quite a story.”
“You have no idea,” she repeats.
“Lana!” Clover yells, demanding our attention. “How come you’re not dressed up like a princess?”
I glance at Faye, confused. Why would I be dressed like a princess?
“Today is Emily’s party, remember?” Clover adds, clapping. “That’s why I’m a princess. I wanted to dress like a biker princess, but Daddy said no.”
Right, shit. I forgot about that. Today I was taking her to a kid’s birthday party.
Biker princess? I wasn’t touching that one.
Faye laughs, bringing my gaze back to her. “Forgot, did you? The invitation with the address is on the fridge. You just have to go and sit there while they play, then bring her home. You okay with that?”
I nod. “Sure. Sounds easy enough.”
Faye kisses her daughter. “I wish I could be there with you today, Clover, but I know you and Lana will have a good time.”
“I know you have to work sometimes, Mommy,” Clover replies.
“I promise: next party, I’ll be the one to take you,” Faye tells her daughter. “The present is on top of the TV, Lana. Call me if you have any problems. And good luck.”
“We’ll be fine, won’t we, Clover?”
Clover grins in response.
“Here,” Faye says, handing me the book. “Read it. You’ll love it!”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say, trying to hand it back to her. “You’re still reading it.”
“No, no, I insist. This is my second time reading it,” she says with a laugh. “Return it when you’re done. You won’t regret it!”
I awkwardly take the book with a smile, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.
Mother and daughter say ’bye once more, while I tidy up the kitchen a little.
“Oh, and Lana—?” Faye calls out as she grabs her handbag. She’s a lawyer and is dressed in a professional yet sexy black suit that hugs her curves. I can see why Sin chose her over all other women. “One of the men will drive you there.”
“Oh, I can drive, it’s no problem,” I tell her instantly.
Faye shrugs, her eyes taking on an amused glint. “He insisted.”
She waves and exits through the front door, leaving me standing there.
“Who insisted?” I say to myself.
“I did,” Tracker says, walking up to me dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a sleepy grin.
My eyes flare as they take in the glory that is his body.
Wow. I mean . . . wow.
Rather than being bulky, he is lean and sculpted. Perfectly muscular. Covered in tattoos, the largest begins at his shoulder and wraps around his right pec. The artistic eagle looks as though it’s swooping down on its prey, hunger and death in its eyes. Smoke and clouds surround it, working with his body to create texture and dimension. It’s captivating. Smaller tattoos mark his neck, and he has a half sleeve that extends from his wrist to his elbow.
I want to trace every one of those tattoos with my tongue.
“Ummm,” I mutter, now focusing on his sexy V. “’Morning.” Delicious.
“’Morning, Lana,” he says, amusement lacing his voice.
I look up, coming out of my reverie, blushing that I’ve been caught staring. “Hi.”
“You wanna come give me a morning hug and kiss?”
Before I can open my mouth to object, he adds, “On the cheek.”
“No,” I say. It takes all my willpower to resist him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He quirks his eyebrow. I think he’s genuinely surprised. I mean, of course he is. How many women would say no to that? Just crazy old me.
“It’s just a hug, Lana.”
I can tell that he’s daring me. If I say no, he will know that I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself. But if I do embrace him, I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself either. My stubbornness wins.