Page 9 of Riot

“Get in here a minute.”

Trevor made a face at me. “You probably are.”

“Jealousy is ugly on you,” I said, backing toward the sideline.

Dropping the ball to Marcus, I walked over and bent for my shirt. The cotton was damp where it had been sitting in the heat. I gave it a little shake then pulled it over my head anyway. Humiliating. Nothing said dignity like wrestling yourself into a sweaty shirt in public.

Marlene waited while I fixed the hem and dragged my fingers through my hair.

“What did I do?” I asked as we headed toward the door. “Because if this is about me sneaking extra crackers from the kids’ snack bins, I’d like to note that those cheddar ones are addictive and poorly supervised.”

Marlene didn’t even look at me. “You’re helping with setup.”

I blinked. “That was not one of the options I was expecting.”

Inside, cool air hit my skin all at once. My chest was still warm from the game, and the air-conditioning raised goosebumps on my arms. The lobby had that familiar smell of waxed linoleum and air that hadn’t moved in a while.

“For what setup?” Voices echoed from somewhere down the hall.

“The Howlers’ cookout fundraiser.” Marlene didn’t break stride, just shifted her clipboard to her other arm. “A few of them are here early to go over the space. I need extra hands.”

“Because I look like a man built for labor?”

“Because you’re standing here.”

That was annoyingly fair. She led me into the main room off the lobby. Folding tables were stacked against one wall. A couple of boxes sat near the kitchen doors. At the far end, the two bikers from outside stood with Marlene’s assistant, talking over a rough layout on paper.

Riot looked up first.

His gaze landed on me and held. Not in a weird way. Not in the way that made my skin tighten and my instincts start swinging knives. His eyes were light brown, warm, amused before he even smiled, and that did something strange low in my stomach.

Which was just what I needed. One more problem.

Marlene gestured with her clipboard. “Calvin can help move tables and whatever else you need.”

Mayhem gave me a short nod. Riot’s mouth tipped at one corner.

“Appreciate it,” Riot said.

His voice caught me off guard. Low, easy. Friendly. No push. No game I could detect under it. That alone made me suspicious, because clearly life had taught me all the wrong lessons.

I shoved my hands into the sides of my shorts, then pulled them back out because that made me look twelve. “Happy to be volunteered.”

Marlene snorted and handed me a set of keys. “Storage closet if you need more chairs. Don’t disappear.”

“I never disappear,” I said. “I linger. Like mildew.”

She walked away without comment.

It was just the three of us and the hum of the air-conditioning.

Up close, Riot was even better looking. He had a strong jaw, short black hair still neat despite the ride over, and the kind of face that made you think terrible thoughts in broad daylight. The cut sat easy on him, leather worn soft at the shoulders. His T-shirt pulled over his chest and arms in a way I made a point not to stare at.

I failed a little.

Mayhem folded the paper and tucked it away. “We need half of the tables outside by the side lot. Two by the doors. The rest stay in here until tomorrow.”

“Got it,” I said.