“It’s okay. I’ve driven in much worse conditions.”
His calm voice had her sitting back in her seat. Turning her head to the side, she saw that he was focused on the road ahead.
“You’re a good driver,” she complimented him. “You’re almost as good as Stud.”
“He seemed like a nice guy. He and Calder met us at the airport with a rental car.”
“Did he tell you he used to be president of two motorcycle clubs?”
“No, he didn’t mention it before he left.”
“He’s still the president of the Destructors, but he handed the Blue Horsemen over to Calder. Now that he and Crazy Bitch are married, she wants him to hand it over to someone else.”
“Does he want to?”
“Yes, but he can’t find the right brother to keep them in line. The Blue Horsemen used to be heavily involved with drugs. Stud managed to clean up the club, and Calder has kept it that way. They don’t want it to go back to the way it used to be. Drugs are bad enough in that area without the Blue Horsemen making it worse.”
She breathed a sigh of relief when Dalton slowly turned into the parking lot of her apartment. Her sigh turned into a gasp when the sedan started to slide sideways in the front, heading to a small gully. Despite Dalton’s best efforts, the front tires slid off the road into the ditch.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Stay there until I come around. I’ll call a tow truck from your apartment.”
It was snowing too heavily for him to be sitting outside to wait. Dalton wasn’t going to be the only one sitting in a ditch tonight waiting for a tow.
Taking his hand when he opened the door, she gripped it tightly as they climbed out of the ditch. She was grateful she had worn thick boots over her gray leggings. They slid more than walked to her apartment; even the handrail was turning into a popsicle.
“I bet you’re wishing you had stayed in St. Louis,” she said as she turned the key to open her door.
“I like the snow. It’s the part about ending in a ditch I could do without. Stud would have made that turn, wouldn’t he?”
When he ran his fingers through his dark hair, his eyes dared her to tell the truth.
“Probably.” Taking her own coat off, she grinned at him over her shoulder as she hung it on the rack beside the door. “But he has more experience of doing it than you do.”
“Ouch. Take it out.”
She moved toward him in concern. “What?”
“The knife to my heart you just stabbed me with.”
Playfully, she hit him on his shoulder.
“Call him. You can see for yourself. He has a tow truck; he can get your car out. While you’re doing that, I’m going to get into something warmer. I’m freezing.”
Turning the thermostat higher, she left Dalton in the living room and rushed to her bedroom. After exchanging her clothes for a snug pair of sweat pants and fluffy socks, she found a light pink thermal night shirt to put on. Loosening her hair from the sexy top knot that Sex Piston had styled for her before hurrying into the living room to see Dalton staring out the front window. He turned when he heard her come back in the room.
“I’m going to make some hot chocolate. Want a cup? Stud on his way?”
Going around the small counter, she took the milk out of the refrigerator. When he didn’t answer, she looked toward him.
“Dalton?”
He turned to watch her in the kitchen, her voice drawing him out of whatever he had been thinking about.
“Stud said it’s too bad to take the tow truck out. He’s suggested I stay the night here.”
“Cool. I would have told you that, but I didn’t want you to think I wanted you to stay because I want that gorgeous body of yours.” Giving him a wink, she went to a cabinet to take a small pot out.
“T.A., I’m not going to stay.”
Setting the pot onto the burner, she turned to look at him questioningly. “Why not? Stud told you how bad it is out there.”
Dalton walked to the counter. “Because I think you’re attracted to me, and the feeling is not mutual.”
Giving him her back, she poured a generous amount of milk in the pot to heat.
“Why not? Did I say something wrong?” she whispered.
She heard his shoes as he came up behind her. His hands turned her until she was facing him with his hands on her shoulders.
“You’re too young for me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re too young. I’m in my fifties.”
“You don’t look it. You look my age.”
“But I’m not. Not only that, but I don’t want a woman to replace Oceane.”
Shrugging out from under his touch, she turned the stove burner on.
“It was never my intention to try to replace Oceane.” She went to another cabinet to take two cups down and set them on the counter. “Why do men always assume there is an ulterior motive to being nice? I just wanted to be friends and maybe give you someone to talk to. If anything happened, then that would have been great, but if not, then we still could have been friends.”