“Done,” he declared, ignoring our debate.
“Have you seen Dances with Wolves, Mr. Bull?” Lexie asked him, taking the keys and ignoring the fact he looked like he would rather be in Alcatraz than having this conversation.
“Nope,” he bit out.
“Field of Dreams?” she continued, unhindered by his attitude.
He shook his head. I personally thought he was lying. He just didn’t want to hand in his badass card by admitting he watched such a tear jerker. Then again, maybe his hobbies didn’t turn to watching movies. It was more likely he learned how to waterboard for fun, or practiced menacing looks in the mirror. He had that shit down pat.
“You’ve missed out on some cinematic gold. You should come over and watch it one night—you know, as a thank you. Mom and I always have movie nights on Saturdays. Well, actually we don’t need a designated movie night, we use any excuse. But Saturdays are when we go all out,” she rambled slightly with a smile.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. My sweet, slightly antisocial daughter was inviting a biker over for a movie night? Not just that. One that was hotter than any man I had seen in real life or in movies.
“Lexie, what were we talking about just the other day? You know what happens when a little man underneath a bed gets hungry,” I said under my breath.
Bull’s eyes flicked to me and something passed in them I couldn’t catch. It was probably the fact he thought I was insane. I wasn’t exactly at my best. The attraction I felt for this man was consuming. This made it all the more mortifying witnessing the hardening of his eyes as they met mine.
“I think we deduced that man doesn’t exist, Mom,” Lexie said firmly. “Plus, Bull’s not a stranger. He’s our neighbor, who did something nice which saved our necks,” she finished triumphantly, winking at him. Actually winking at the guy who would chew up and spit out Chuck Norris.
I was at a loss of what to do, so I quickly glanced at my watch. “Frickin’, flippin’, shoot,” I blurted when I realized the time. “We are actually insanely late now. My chances of Shelly’s coffee are seriously low. Your acai bowl is out of the question, unless they pour it into a cup with a straw, which of course turns it back into a regular smoothie,” I teased. “You’re going to have to run into the café while I sit in the car with the motor running,” I declared, my attention on my daughter. My eyes returned to Bull, who had been glowering at me the entire time. I swallowed the terrible taste that came with this look. “Thank you so much for doing that. You really did come to our rescue,” I said sincerely, despite the look.
He stared at me a moment longer. “You need to get a new tire on there soon. Treads shot to shit. It’s not safe,” he clipped.
I stared at him. The scowl I was being treated to was more likely to be accompanied by a death threat than a worry about my safety. I bit my lip in confusion, feeling uncomfortable under such a stare. Uncomfortable because it was vaguely turning me on. Okay, maybe not so vaguely.
“Omigod!” Lexie exclaimed loudly, unaware that Bull and I were in some kind of weird moment. “We didn’t even introduce ourselves. I’m Alexis, but everyone calls me Lexie.” Her perkiness was unusual for strangers, as was the megawatt smile she was giving Bull. It stayed in place even as she elbowed me in the ribs.
“Amelia,” I ground out, rubbing my midsection. I resisted the urge to poke my tongue out at my daughter. This guy already thought we were mad. No need to add fuel to the fire of crazy we had started. “My friends call me Mia though, and I think that I not only consider you a friend, but an immortal saint for saving me the horror of missing out on my morning latte,” I added, trying to defuse the tension. Unfortunately, my comedic genius was lost on such a broody biker. Maybe if I had offered an arm wrestle.…
He was staring between the two of us, his face blank. Silence hung in the air after my half-assed attempt to seem witty. I felt like an awkward teenager around such an intoxicating presence. It didn’t help that my actual teenage daughter seemed to have more charisma than me.
“You going to tell us your real name now?” My charismatic daughter asked lightheartedly, with a small smile. I honestly didn’t know how he could say no to that face; she was too cute. Then again, she was the fruit of my loins so I was biased. A biker was more likely to be persuaded by a biker chick on a stripper pole.
He seemed to be contemplating something while Lexie kept her smile, unfazed by the dangerous emptiness in his face. I think I needed to get her back on the stranger danger classes. Stat. Maybe get myself some to curb the crazy attraction.
“Zane,” he grunted finally.
Lexie beamed. “Zane. Totally suits you. Knew you weren’t a Eugene,” she joked lightly.
He said nothing else, just gave Lexie a small chin lift and me a withering scowl before turning his back. No goodbye, nothing. Obviously bad ass bikers with world class goatees didn’t bother themselves with something as asinine as goodbyes. We were treated to a view of the patch of his leather vest, which read Sons of Templar MC. My gaze, however, quickly flickered over the rider brandishing a sword and settled on the amazing ass that filled out the black jeans he was wearing the shit out of.
“He was nice,” Lexie exclaimed, shocking me out of my perusal of a seriously glorious behind.
I gaped at her. “Nice?” I repeated in disbelief.
She nodded.
There were multiple words I would use to describe Zane the ’Bull’ biker. Nice was not one. Wouldn’t even make the top fifty.
I shook my head. I would address my daughter’s total misuse of the word nice at a later date. “I need coffee,” I declared.