Page 28 of Riot

I nodded then watched them leave, missing my big brother so badly I wanted to cry.

* * * *

An hour after Niles left, I was bored out of my mind. Even the old ladies were gone. No dryers to rescue. The machines sat motionless inside. I just sat on the wall outside, my thoughts drifting to Riot. He’d texted back that it was cool. What kind of response was that? Two simple words. It’s cool.

If he could blow me off so easily, he wasn’t the guy I’d thought he was. Too bad I hadn’t known before falling for the guy. I’d thought we had a connection, but it was clearly one-sided. I worked myself into a petty little sulk I would deny under oath.

Pulling out my phone, I considered calling Niles. He would know what to say to cheer me up, if that was even possible. I’d never fallen for someone so fast or hard before. If this was what it felt like—the deep ache in my chest—I didn’t want it.

God, Niles had been right. I was making it weird in my head. Two words and I’d immediately built a fourteen-story tragedy around them. The weaponized flamingo knew me too well.

The sound of a motorcycle caught my attention. Hope flared so hard it was embarrassing. But it could’ve been anyone. Riot wasn’t the only motorcycle enthusiast in town. I leaned forward and caught the bike first.

Then him.

I leaned back again, trying for a relaxed pose, my insides a quivering mess. I couldn’t let him see how much he affected me because I still wasn’t sure if he was down as badly as I was. If Riot wasn’t, I could, at the very least, walk away with half of my tattered dignity intact.

Riot killed the engine then swung a long leg over his bike. Nice range of motion. I filed that information away. Just in case.

Dark T-shirt. Leather jacket. Jeans that hugged his ass nicely. My heart forgot how to act. He glanced up and smiled the second he saw me. Not just smiled. His eyes lit up so clearly it caught me off guard.

Holy. Hell. My stomach dropped and lifted at the same time. He looked genuinely glad to see me.

I stood up like a meerkat spotting salvation then stopped myself from looking too eager. “What’re you doing here?” My voice was breathy. You’re supposed to be playing it cool, idiot.

He walked closer, staring at me like I’d been worth the trip, and I instantly forgot whatever dumb thing I was just thinking.

“Thought you could use some dinner.” The side of his mouth lifted, those light brown eyes still sparkling. He was either really happy or really drunk. Eyes sparkled in both cases, but Riot didn’t smell like booze.

Up close, he smelled like sun, clean soap, and the road. I inhaled deeply, uncaring that Riot could see me sniffing him.

“Sorry you had to work extra hours.” The deep rumble in his voice made my knees weak. I loved hearing him talk.

“It’s me and forty-seven socks against the world.”

He stepped close enough that my focus slid to his mouth for a beat before I dragged it back up. His free hand brushed my bare arm, like touching me was already normal.

“I brought you dinner,” he repeated.

For a second, I just stared at him. Riot was even more gorgeous than I remembered. My fingers itched to run through his soft-looking beard. Possibly nibble it too.

“Huh?” I’d heard him but was caught in those light brown beauties.

“Food.” Riot opened the storage box on the side of his bike, pulling out a bag stacked with plastic containers. Then he grabbed two cans of soda.

“Unless you’re not hungry.” Riot strode to the wall, my eyes glued to his ass. He had to know I was zeroed in on his backside. He was making my brain throw out error codes. If Riot did know, he was nice enough not to tease me about it. He lowered like he’d sat on that wall a million times before, long legs stretched out in front of him, and all I could think about was crawling onto his lap. “Mind if I eat?”

Wait. What was going on? Food… Right. Dinner. Starving.

“Eat that in front of me and I will tackle you.” I narrowed my eyes, part of me hoping Riot tried.

He arched a sexy eyebrow. “You’d attack me for food?”

He didn’t have to sound so amused.

“Oh, please.” I waved a hand in his direction. “Like I could actually do any damage. I’m more likely to sprain something on me than leave a bruise on you.”

I sat on the cinderblock still warm from the day’s heat, noticing how close our bodies now were, but I refused to scoot over. My focus was on the bag he’d set aside.