“How many nights?” My voice is quite the opposite of the pole. Mine is like a flying plastic bag, whipping through the air.
He smirks. “Just the one.”
Our eyes meet, and I should ask how many people, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Is a woman outside waiting to be ravaged by this god of a man? That’s not an embellishment of his attributes, because he is pure masculinity. Strong jawline. High cheekbones. A layer of dark hair snuggles along the jawbone that accentuates every feature. His eyes are deep pools of chocolate that I find myself drowning in as he stares at me. His ebony hair is longer on top and looks windblown. Biker vibes emanate from his tall frame. The more I study the patch and emblem on his leather vest, the more I realize he is in fact a biker.
He’s older too. A lot older.
He’s probably late thirties and definitely someone I shouldn’t gawk at in the manner I am.
Brittany nudges me. “Dakota,” she says, staring between me and the man.
“Oh, right.” I click on my screen to check him in. “Name?”
“Ruin Ryder.”
“Ruin? I’ve never met a Ruin.”
What a fantastic—and fitting—name.
He gives me a lopsided grin. “I get that a lot. I guess you can say I ruined my mother’s life. That’s how I got the name Ruin. Mommy Dearest was very literal, in a sense.”
It’s like he reached inside my chest and wrapped his fist around my heart. Most people wouldn’t share something so personal with a stranger, but he seems unbothered by the horrible label his mother gave him. That or he hides it well. Either way, I guess it’s not my business to question his family dynamics.
But I can’t help doing it anyway.
“Sounds like a personal problem on her end. I’m sure you didn’t ruin anything,” I mutter under my breath. “May I have your ID?”
He leans away from the mahogany counter, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, and it’s like time stands still as I watch with razor-sharp eyes. “Here.” He hands me his driver’s license.
I study it like there’s a test later, before I type his info into the computer. He’s from Diamond, Texas and unlike my horrible driver’s license photo, his is stunning. A list of available rooms pops up, and I assign him suite 118. It’s at the rear of the property, and Ruin seems like a private man.
“How many guests will stay?” I ask.
“Just me.” His eyebrow rises, like he wouldn’t be opposed to inviting someone back to his room. I almost want to say pity in a breathless whisper, but I refrain.
“I’ve put you in room 118. It’s one of our largest and has a queen-sized bed. The mattresses are of exceptional quality. No squeaking.” I’ve no idea why I just told him that detail, other than he seems like the type of man who would make love with ferocity.
“I like a squeak-free mattress,” he draws out in a gravelly voice.
“Me too.” I swallow hard and type the proper sequence into the keycard computer to make him a key. Once it’s complete, I hand it over with a dazed smile. “You’re all set, Mr. Ryder.”
“Call me Ruin.”
Our fingertips brush when he takes it, and it feels like a moment—a connection. Tingles race up my hand and I rush into a spiel about Harmony Inn’s amenities. “There’s a complimentary breakfast buffet in the morning and we offer a ghost tour of the property.”
“That’s interesting.” His kissable lips curve into a half grin. “Will you protect me?”
In all probability, he would need protection from me, because my thoughts are heading into dangerous territory. “Sorry, no. Maria will guide the tour tonight.” My gaze treks over his towering body full of muscles. “I don’t think you need protection anyway.”
“Yeah. Probably not.” His eyes sweep across my face. “But I’d let you do it anyway.”
From my peripheral, I see Brittany grinning like a loon. She subtly kicks me behind the counter when I take too long to respond. This is my chance to be daring and flirt, but old habits die hard and I don’t take it. “If you need anything else, Brittany will be here all night,” I say.
“You won’t be?”
It takes a beat for me to answer, because I’m taken aback by his question. “Uh, no. I’ll be…” I don’t know what to say at this point.
Doesn’t matter because Brittany chimes in. “She’ll be at The Eager Beaver. Teaching line dancing.”
“You teach line dancing?” he asks.
“Once a month, yes.” I want to die from embarrassment, but I put on my best manager persona and say, “Enjoy your stay here at Harmony Inn.”
He raps his knuckles on the counter. “Thanks. Will do.” After one more lingering stare between us, he strides toward the glass doors, and I take a moment to appreciate the muscular ass tucked snugly in the back of his faded jeans.