Chasing Claire (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) by Paula Marinaro Page B

at Jules, whose mouth was
still
hanging open.
    “Well?”
    Jules hesitated only a fraction of a second, then called out, “Yeah, tell Glory I’ll be around soon to . . . uh . . . to . . . uh . . . to take her fishing.”
    Claire nodded and flashed Reno a look of total triumph. She had gotten Jules to cave in. No one ever got Jules to cave in. Reno hadn’t missed that and returned her look with such an expression of disbelief that she almost burst out laughing right on the spot. “I’lllet her know,” Claire called out to Jules, flashed him a bright smile, and sashayed right out the door.
    Claire held her composure until she drove through the gates of the compound. Then she rolled down the window, turned up the tunes, and let the priceless expressions on the faces of two rough, tough outlaws dance through her mind.
    As she sped down the highway, she laughed out loud.

CHAPTER 19
    R
eno’s breath is warm against my bare skin. I arch slightly as his hands move up to my hair and bury themselves in the tangled mess. Tugging on the back of my head gently, he imprisons me. I tremble as his mouth moves over mine. I feel the heat of that kiss everywhere. His voice is a gentle rumble, whispering against my ear, “You’re mine, baby . . .”
    The jarring ring of the alarm clock woke me up and brought me back.
    I didn’t want to be back. I wanted to be where I had just been, in Reno’s bed.
    Oh God.
    In Reno’s bed.
    It was the third night in a row that I had had that dream or an equally steamy variation of it. Running into Reno unexpectedly at the clinic had caught me off guard. For the following few days, all I could do was think about him. When the alarm woke me up, I stayed in bed for a few extra minutes and willed myself back to that delicious dream state. To my great disappointment, instead of drifting back to wonderland, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Not only did I end up feeling pathetic and sorry for myself, but I had also managed to make myself ten minutes late starting my day.
    The morning had just gone downhill from there.
    Now, I was sitting in the driveway, kicking at the tires of the Jeep, swearing my head off, and cursing Diego and his damn gift. It really wasn’t very fair, or very nice of me, and it didn’t even make me feel any better, but I kept on kicking and swearing anyway.
    Because really? Really? Goddammit! The stupid thing wouldn’t start and I was going to be late. It was my first day of college, and I was as nervous as a mouse in a cat’s house.
    And I had just spent the entire morning filled with self-doubt.
    Maybe I wasn’t ready for this. Maybe I wasn’t smart enough. I didn’t even know what to pack for lunch. Did people even use brown bags anymore? What if I got lost on my way to class? Or worse, what if I sat down in a class, only to discover that I was in the wrong one?
    On and on and on I went, just like that.
    Doubts assailed me and I came dangerously close to losing my nerve. That Glory was not home only made matters worse. I had no one to bounce the fears off of. No one to tell me that I could do this. No one to give me an “Atta Girl.”
    And I really needed an “Atta Girl” right about now.
    It was pretty safe to say I was losing my brave. And fast.
    After managing to pull myself together for maybe a minute and a half, I made the colossal mistake of calling the college registrar’s office with one single, simple question. Instead of just answering that one single, simple question, the very bitchy receptionist referred me to the class’s online course syllabus.
    And that was the worst thing of all, because . . . I had absolutely no idea what a syllabus was.
    Then the Jeep wouldn’t start.
    But that was not all.
    Nope, that was not all.
    On this, my very first day of college, fate just had to step in and throw one more whammy at me. When I called the clubhouse forhelp with the Jeep, out of all the people who could have possibly picked up that phone, Reno