Page 18 of Moto
“You could say that. Where did you come from?”
“Over there.” She thumbs at the door. “I didn’t want to interrupt the show.”
“You saw all that, huh? Get off on spying on people?”
“I have to do something to keep me occupied while I’m here.” She throws my words right back in my face. It actually causes my lip to twitch. She’s a fucking smartass. A smartass with a fine ass.
Why do I instantly feel better when she’s around?
Probably because you’re horny as hell and she’s a thousand times better looking than the night nurse, Jabba the Hutt.
“What are you doing here, anyway? Isn’t your shift over?” I ask grouchily.
She shrugs one shoulder, almost flirtatiously. “Picked up a night shift. One of the other nurses had a family emergency.”
“Twenty-four hours? Rough.”
“Yeah. But the money is amazing, and I can sleep all day tomorrow.”
“Must be nice. I haven’t slept in days.”
“Is that why you’re such a crank?”
“I’m a fucking crank because my season is ruined, I’m injured, and I’m exiled in nowhere Maryland.”
“Didn’t you grow up here?” she questions.
“Yeah, so?”
“I’ve just never met anyone who despised his roots as much as you do.”
“You must not travel much.”
“I’ve been to the Bahamas.”
I roll my eyes. “My point exactly. I’ve seen the world. I know what’s out there. This place is a shithole.”
“Dev doesn’t seem to mind it.”
“Well, what the hell does he know?” I stare straight ahead. It’s a rhetorical question. A nasty one, but rhetorical nonetheless.
“I guess not as much as you,” Kayla retorts sharply.
I dart my eyes up to meet hers. She stares back at me formidably. I’m self-centered, I’ll admit, but I’m not used to women talking to me like this. Usually, they’re falling all over me, submitting to my every whim, but her brashness is sort of turning me on.
“I’d love to see you on a bike. I bet you’d tear it up.”
She actually turns pale. “I’ll pass.” Her whole demeanor changes in a nanosecond. Strike a chord, did I?
“You don’t like bikes?” I prod.
“I don’t like bikers,” she clarifies shortly.
Ouch.
“A woman scorned, huh?”
She stares at me pointedly. “Not exactly.”
