lori king rough ride romeo (2 page)

difference between them was more obvious. At just over six feet, Roman was

fairly average height in this part of the country, but this little biker chick was

more than a half foot shorter than he was, and based on the way her jeans and t-

shirt clung to her body she was perfectly molded underneath.

“I’m not arguing that a bit, Miss...” he paused hoping she’d fill in the blanks,

but she just spun on her heel and headed back to where her bike was still stuck

under the back end of the truck.

Dropping to her knees, she ran her hand over the handlebars which were

now slightly twisted. “Oh Hal, my poor baby. Damn country folks don’t even

know how to drive in an empty parking lot. I can’t believe with all of this space

around him he couldn’t even manage to...damn it all to fuck.”

Well she certainly has a colorful vocabulary, he thought, and an oddly

personal relationship with her motorcycle. The bike didn’t look terrible, but then

again, it was hidden in the shadow of the truck. Reaching for his keys, he stepped

closer to her, and said, “If you’ll just scoot over some, I’ll pull forward and we’ll

see what the damage is. I’m awfully sorry about running over your bike, but—”

“But what? But it was somehow my fault that you backed over the one and

only vehicle besides yours in the whole parking lot?” she demanded.

Damn she was a squirrelly one. There was something about the fire in her

eyes and her fierce temper that clashed with the frustration and sorrow in the

slump of her shoulders. She was more than just angry over the accident.

Something else had this strange woman upset.

“No. It was absolutely my fault. I was just going to say, I happen to know a

mechanic that can fix it for you. I’ll cover the cost, of course.” He tried to relax

all of his body so that he didn’t seem threatening in any way. For some reason, he

really wanted her to trust him, and give him a chance to make things right. He

wanted to protect her from whatever demons were haunting her.

The moment the thought raced through his brain he tossed it aside. That

was the silliest thing in the world. He had no interest in getting involved in

anyone else’s demon hunting. He had plenty of nightmares riding around with

him every day. No, he was just offering to take care of this because it was his

responsibility as a human being. He’d caused the damage, and he’d fix it.

“What happened here?”

Bran’s deep voice made Roman groan and lean his head against the door of

the truck. Just what he needed.

“This dumbass just backed over my bike!” the petite little hellion said,

tugging at the saddlebag that was caught on his trucks trailer hitch. “If you

smashed my laptop I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you.”

Her threat made him grimace, and cover his family jewels as he exchanged a

sick look with Brandon. Shoving his hat back out of his eyes, Brandon bent to

take a look at the motorcycle and then shook his head. “You sure did a number

on it, Romeo.”

“Romeo? Is that your name? Officer, I want this man arrested, or fined, or

something.”

Bran was clearly fighting back a grin as he nodded. “It’s Sheriff Bowers,

ma’am, and this dumbass”— Bran gestured to Romeo—“is Roman Freemont. I

certainly understand why you’re upset Miss…”

This time she didn’t leave the opening hanging. “Scott, Franki Scott. And

I’m way more than upset.”

“Well Miss Scott, you certainly have a right to be a trife irritated, but as I

heard it, Romeo was offering to pay for the damages already, and as the accident

didn’t cause any bodily harm, I won’t be arresting anyone. I’ll be glad to take a

report, and you can file with your insurance company—”

“There’s no need for all that.” Roman interjected. “I’l gladly pay for the

damages. I’m truly sorry Miss Scott. It was my fault. I was distracted, and I

wasn’t thinking clearly.”

She studied him for a moment and then turned back to Brandon. “Sheriff

Bowers, surely there’s something more you can do. This was clearly negligence on

his part.”

“Ma’am, most accidents are negligence on someone’s part. Roman is

offering to ante up, and I don’t see any need to make the situation a bigger deal

than it already is. Besides, he happens to be related to the best mechanic around

here, and you won’t find anyone better to fix your bike back up.”

“I’m not from around here, Sheriff. I can’t just drop my bike off and pick it

up in a week,” she argued.

“I assumed as much.” Brandon said, earning a sharp glare from Franki. He

smiled back at her and gestured to the mashed bike. “Minnesota plates.”

Her irritation seemed to ease a bit at his response, but she was still furious,

and Roman wanted nothing more than to make her smile.

“Where are you staying, Franki? I can drop you off and take your bike home

to my brother,” Roman said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

A deep wrinkle appeared in her brow, and she reached for it, rubbing at the

tense muscles. “I’m not, or not yet. Hell, I don’t know yet. I just got here.”

“What brought you to Montford?” Brandon asked cordially, bending to

collect a Styrofoam container from the concrete a few feet away.

It was obviously Franki’s breakfast by the smell, and Roman felt even worse

when he realized how close she’d been to the bike. He could have killed her.

Horror rippled through him making his stomach twist, and he instinctively

reached out his hand to rub her shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to

comfort her or himself, but when she shrugged him off, it set his nerves on edge.

Damn it, it wasn’t like he’d been aiming for her bike.

Lost in his own thoughts Roman almost missed the way Franki paled at

Brandon’s question, but he couldn’t miss the way she sidestepped it. “If you’ll just

point me in the direction of the nearest motel I’ll check in and then meet you at

the mechanic’s. I hope you have a thick bank account, mister, because you’re

paying to have this job rushed.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to delay you from wherever you needed to be.”

The words tasted sour because they were a bold-faced lie, but Roman gave her a

bright smile anyway.

Brandon turned to Roman, and widened his eyes just a smidge, “Well now, it

just so happens that Romeo also owns a guest ranch where you can make yourself

comfortable while you wait. Unless there was somewhere pressing you had to be

today Miss Scott?”

She blanched at the pointed question, and suddenly Roman had more

questions he wanted answers to. The only way he was going to get an opportunity

to talk to her more was to agree to this harebrained scam of Brandon’s.

“Absolutely. I’m sure Bran—err—Sheriff Bowers will help me put your bike

in the back end of the truck, and we’ll head straight out to Crawley Creek to have

Vin take a look. You can use one of the guest rooms or pick out a guest cabin if

you want.” Roman gave Franki his most charming smile. She relaxed a bit, but

her wariness of him was still there.

“I don’t even know you. Why would I get in a car with you?” she asked,

cocking her hip and crossing her arms. The move highlighted her lush curves,

and Roman felt his mouth dry up as his cock hardened behind his zipper.

“I’l vouch for him, Miss Scott, but if you’d prefer, I can drive you out to the

ranch myself. There’s only one other place to get a room around here and that’s

the Motel 8 down the highway a bit. Their continental breakfast isn’t nearly as

good as Marilyn’s french toast, I guarantee ya.”

At her frown of confusion, Roman filled in the gaps, “Marilyn is the

housekeeper and cook on the ranch. And he’s right, her french toast is to die for.”

After several moments, Franki final y sighed, and nodded, “Fine, but before I

agree to this, I want to make a quick phone call to tell someone where I’ll be.

That way, if I disappear, the feds will know to start investigating the town of

Montford for a corrupt sheriff and his ignorant sidekick.” She stomped off in the

direction of the convenience store, and Roman watched the sway of her hips with

a stupid grin on his face. He loved the way she smarted back and stood up for

herself. How long had it been since a woman made him hard without removing a

single piece of clothing?

Brandon clamped a hand on his shoulder and murmured, “I saw the way

you looked at her, Freemont. You can thank me for my quick thinking later.

Maybe with that saddle you bought down in Sioux Falls last fall.”

Groaning with the realization that his prized saddle had just slipped out of

his possession, Roman nodded in agreement. It was a small price to pay for

Brandon’s silence on this horrendous mistake of his, and pushing Franki right

into the front seat of his truck. Perhaps backing over her bike wasn’t such a

mistake after all.

“Done. Just don’t blame me if she reports your ass to the town council. She

seems like she’s got hellfire in her veins.” Roman joked.

Brandon nodded, grunting as he helped lift the massive bike up into the back

of the truck. It wasn’t a small feminine bike like he’d assumed. In fact it was three

times as big as Franki herself, and he wondered how in the hel she managed it

out on the highways. Brandon seemed to be thinking the same thing, and they

exchanged a silent shrug. He didn’t figure he’d ever understand women.

“I can handle the fallout, but I’m not so sure you can handle her as wel as

you think you can. You may have just bit off more than you can chew, brother.”

Brandon said, laughing as he walked away.

Roman wanted to shout something nasty after the other man, but at that

moment, Franki stepped back outside, her hips swaying and her small body tense,

and he lost his ability to speak again. She made the short walk over to his truck

seem miles long because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Something

about the confidence in her gait, and the defiant tilt of her chin gave him a boner

from hell.

“Are you going to just stand there staring, Romeo?” she asked with more

than a hint of snark. Her hand was planted on her curvy hip and a frown line

marred her brow again.

Falling back on his charm he gave her a long, slow look from the top of her

head to the tips of her black boots, taking in every beautiful nuance of her sex

appeal. “Damn straight. There’s a hell of a lot to look at, sugar.”

She fushed and anger fashed in her eyes. “Did you just call me fat?”

Ice rushed through Roman’s veins, and he took a step back. “What? No!”

He took a deep breath and snorted, “Damn it woman, I was trying to pay you a

compliment.”

“Sure. Whatever. Thanks I guess.”

Roman wanted to continue arguing until he had her true forgiveness, but she

didn’t give him a chance. The contrary woman moved to check out her damaged

motorcycle more carefully, and he watched as she took in its measure.

Chapter 3

“You realize this isn’t going to be a cheap fix, right?” Franki turned back to

the sexy man in the straw cowboy hat and had to force herself keep frowning at

him. A strange ball of energy fil ed the pit of her stomach when he nodded and

gave her a sheepish grin.

“Vin will make sure I pay every penny of the cost, I promise you.”

“Vin is the mechanic?” She eyed the height of the tailgate and wondered if

she could make the jump without breaking her neck.

“He’s my brother, and like Brandon—err—Sheriff Bowers said, he’s the best

mechanic around. He’ll get your bike back to new as fast as possible.” Roman ran

his fingers through his hair and settled his weight back onto his heels as though

talking about his brother eased his nerves. “If you’re ready I’l just tie down the

bike and we can go on out to the ranch right now.”

Hesitating, Franki bit her bottom lip and tried to swal ow back her fear. This

man was a stranger, and even with the sheriff ’s recommendation, she was wary of

accepting a ride from him, much less a place to stay. If she was murdered, no one

would have a clue where to look for her, and no one would ever find Vivi. She’d

been bluffing about calling someone to report her whereabouts because there

really was no one to cal . Everything she had was packed in the saddlebags on the

bike or in a ten by ten storage locker in St. Paul. She’d agreed to leave behind her

furniture when the landlord agreed to let her out of her lease two months early so

that she could start her search for her sister. She couldn’t have had a harder trip if

she’d tried. First, she’d gotten a fat tire on her way out of Minneapolis and had

to replace it, then she’d gotten food poisoning at a truck stop just past the North

Dakota border and spent two days and a night huddled up to a motel toilet in

misery. Now her beloved bike had been smashed by a stupid man in a cowboy hat

who smelled of old beer and stale French fries.

“Miss Scott, I promise no harm will come to you. The worst you’ll have to

face at Crawley Creek is a few firtatious cowboys.” Roman’s words were soft, and