Beauty & the Biker Read Online Free PDF Page B

enough, now his pride is crushed.” She stopped and spun back to face Joe, small fists balled at her sides. “What can I do to get it back? Name your price. I don’t have much in savings. But I could make payments. I’m good for it. Ask any one in town.”
    She thought he was that much of a bastard? That he’d take money from her? Money she didn’t have, no less? On the other hand, he hadn’t given her or anyone else in town reason to regard him favorably. “I don’t want your money, sweetheart.”
    “I’m not your sweetheart and I’m serious about squaring my dad’s debt. If not money, then what? Is there something I can do? Like… I don’t know.” She looked around. “Like help you fix up this place? Does it look as awful on the inside as it does out here?”
    Actually, it looked damned good on the inside, but Joe didn’t crow. Instead, he gestured to the sagging porch, the crumbling steps, the peeling paint. “Hard work.”
    She bolstered her puffy-sleeved shoulders. “I’m stronger than I look.”
    He was getting that loud and clear. She was also reckless and naïve. “Renovating the house will take time.”
    “I have time. Weeknights and every weekend. Except this Saturday. I’m attending the Arts and Fiddler Festival with my friends. I could bail, but I’d rather not. It’s tradition with us, not that you’d care.”
    Jesus .
    “Other than that, I’m all yours.”
    She was a pretty, young woman. A vibrant, sociable spirit. Surely she had better things to do than to swing a hammer and sand wood in her limited leisure hours alongside a moody SOB. Joe pushed off the post and walked down the stairs, bypassing chunks of broken cement. “Considering I’m a monster, aren’t you afraid to be alone with me. Out here.” He indicated the remoteness. “For extended periods?”
    Instead of backing away Bella stood her soggy ground. She glanced at Killer who’d followed Joe off the porch—clinging to his leg like a dryer sheet—then met Joe’s gaze. “I’m thinking your bark’s worse than your bite.”
    “You’re wrong.”
    She sized him up then cocked her head. “That death glare needs some work, Savage. I’m not afraid of you.”
    He searched her sweet face, those blue-blue eyes and—good God—he believed her. Yes, she’d blasted him in the heat of her fury. But now that she’d calmed down, she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Joe couldn’t remember what it felt like to believe the best in people—especially strangers. Especially potentially dangerous strangers. Hell, he wouldn’t trust a one-legged beggar on the corner. Joe’s faith in mankind had crashed long ago. His doubt regarding his own virtue was a more recent development.
    He flashed on the fortune cookie email that had directed him to the library.
    Rediscover what you’re missing at the Nowhere Public Library .
    He’d assumed they were directing him to check out the self-help, philosophy, or religious section. “They” being some faceless, nameless data analyst.
    One night last week, after too many beers and too many hours of dwelling on his own monsters, Joe had surfed the Internet, scanning various restoration and custom airbrushing sites—dream cars, dream bikes. Out of curiosity, he’d clicked on an advertisement regarding “impossible dreams”. The cop in him, the logical part, pegged the company as a scam, but he’d been a little drunk and a lot depressed. He’d applied for the impossible. To vanquish the darkness that had seeped into his soul, hardening his heart, and twisting his perspective. To cleanse his conscience. To turn back time.
    He’d actually typed that sentimental crap into the online application.
    He’d been D&D.
    Drunk and delusional.
    On the other hand, he’d been stone sober when he’d received a response. Why he followed through on the email and actually visited the library, he couldn’t say. Boredom. Curiosity.
    Desperation .
    Staring into the sky-blue eyes of Princess