The Virgin’s Guide to Misbehaving (Bluebonnet #4)(18)
Author: Jessica Clare

Then, she could delay no longer, so she drove back to Bluebonnet.

Beth Ann’s small salon was a tiny cube of windows along the charming Main Street shops of Bluebonnet. Down the street was the city hall and library, and a few windows away, she knew Miranda’s mother ran an antiques shop. She cruised past the row of empty parking spaces in front of the salon, and then drove around to the back of the strip so she could park—okay, hide—her car.

Luckily for her, Beth Ann’s salon had a back door, and she snuck in through there, unlocking the door and practically running inside in her haste not to be seen. She turned on the lights, and they flickered for a moment, then came on. Elise stepped into the small salon and surveyed her surroundings.

Everything was still set up for the photo shoots. They’d had their first pinup shoot last weekend, just before Beth Ann had left for Alaska, and nothing had been moved since. Beige sheets of fabric covered the mini blinds over the windows to create a basic background, and more of the fabric was draped on the floor. A white stool sat amidst the fabric, the only seat in the room, the barber chair still in the front waiting room next to a row of seats. Heck, even her tripod was still in place. All she needed to do was set her camera on there and go to work. It was thoughtful of Beth Ann to leave everything in place in case she needed to utilize the studio.

She crossed her arms and studied the setup, eyeing her tripod. Too bad she couldn’t get the right pictures of Rome. He’d make such a great subject. She thought of all those tanned muscles covered in tattoos, that delicious ring in his lip, and shivered. She wished she could shoot him again, at the moment when his eyes got all sleepy and long lashed because he was aroused.

But . . . she was assuming she could arouse him, right? Here she was, dressed in borrowed heels and a top that wasn’t even hers because her own clothes were too frumpy. And it was just lipstick on a pig, because the moment those cute trappings came off, she’d just be a freak with crooked h*ps and scars and granny panties. She pictured Rome’s beautiful eyes widening at the sight of her, and his disappointment when he saw what she really looked like.

She covered her face in her hands and groaned.

What the hell was she doing? Rome Lozada was gorgeous. Utter perfection. She was one step away from being the Hunchback of Notre Dame. There was no way he’d be interested in someone like her if she hadn’t come on so strong.

Hey, wanna have sex? Yes? Sure, let’s meet and hook up.

What guy in his right mind would say no? And then he’d go back to his buddies and tell them all about how he’d nailed the local dog.

She flinched at the thought, her arms tightening, and she stumbled back to the light. She was crazy for doing this. She couldn’t go through with it. No way was she setting herself up for another ego bruising like that. This was a mistake and she had to leave before he got here. She’d just text him later tonight and tell him she’d changed her mind, and just avoid him until she left town. No harm, no foul.

Elise grabbed her keys and opened the back door of the salon to leave . . .

. . . just as a motorcycle pulled up next to her car, the helmeted driver raising a hand to wave at her.

Flustered, Elise froze on the doorstep. What did she do now? She’d have to tell him to his face that she was having second thoughts. That was so much harder than a text. Oh damn.

Rome swung a leg over the motorcycle and pulled his helmet off. He grinned at her. “I’m not too late, am I?”

She stared at him. Her mouth worked, but no words came out. God, she must look so stupid, all dressed up so he could f**k her. And he was being so nice and friendly about it, too. That would change as soon as she told him she didn’t want to do this, that she was chickening out—

“You okay?” He approached her, a frown on his face. “You look a little on edge.”

“I, um . . .” She swallowed hard.

“You’re having second thoughts,” he guessed.

She dropped her gaze, unable to look him in the eye.

“You want to go get a drink instead?”

Elise lifted her head, a hint of a frown on her face. “What?”

He shrugged, those blue eyes capturing her and making it impossible to look away. “You’re all pretty tonight and I’m here, and you’re freaking out. You want to get a drink? Take things slow?” A hint of a smile tugged at his face. “That’s how most relationships go, you know. Couple of dates, couple of kisses, one thing leads to another, et cetera.”

She blinked at him.

“You not a drinker suddenly? I know you like beer.”

“No, that’s not it,” she said hastily. “It’s just, um . . . relationships?”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You got a problem with going on a date with me?”

She shook her head. “Sounds nice,” she said shyly. She just wasn’t sure why he’d want to date someone like her. A quick secret bang was one thing, but a date was . . . well, it felt like more.

“So you want to go get a drink?” he asked again, and offered her the bike helmet tucked under his arm.

“I do. Just not Maya Loco,” she said quickly. That was the only place in Bluebonnet to get a drink.

His mouth twisted. “You worried someone will see you dating the trashy biker?”

Trashy biker? She blinked in surprise. “Actually, I was worried it’d get back to my brother, and you said you wanted to stay off his radar.”

He inhaled. “Ah. Right. Okay. I know a place a few towns over. You want to go?”

She nodded. “Do you have another helmet?”

“Nah, you can use mine.” He winked. “Not much of a loss if I bite it, but people would be sad if you died.”

Before she could comment on that grim explanation, he tugged the helmet out of her hands and put it over her head. As he tied the strap under her chin, he murmured, “You look hot tonight, by the way.”

And she was glad he couldn’t see her blush under the visor.

• • •

They drove for a good while down the highway, and just when Elise was going to ask him where they were headed, he exited and took her down a few side streets until they parked in front of a rather rough-looking building with a bunch of bikes in front of it. Neon signs in the windows advertised a million different kinds of beer, and several people were loitering around the corner of the building, dressed in more leather than she’d ever seen.

Okay, he’d taken her to a biker bar.