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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.

 
    “Mom, I think the red light flashing on the dash means something’s wrong.”
    I glanced over at Lexie in the passenger seat, who was frowning at the dashboard. “I disagree. It has been flashing on and off for days. It’ll go away soon. I only worry when it doesn’t stop flashing,” I declared, my eyes going back to the road.
    “As much as I trust your extensive knowledge about the workings of a motor vehicle’s warning systems, I think you should get it looked at,” Lexie said firmly, with only the slightest glimmer of sarcasm.
    I nodded. “Yes. At some point in the near to distant future, I will get it looked at. Right now, in the immediate future I am going to perv at Dominic Toretto. Ain’t no metal machine going to mess with that.”
    It was true. I would not let an insignificant flashing light mess with my Vin Diesel fix. I was in dire straits. I needed a hot godlike body to help rid my mind of a tall, dark and deadly biker whose withering looks haunted my dreams. Okay, my sexual fantasies. It had been over a week since Zane had changed my tire. I had glimpsed him exactly twice. Once when I was mowing our front lawn and he was pulling out of his driveway, and once when I was arriving home at the same time as him. Both times I got a look that would