The SEAL's Rebel Librarian by Anne Calhoun

helmet on. “You’ll get yourself home okay.”
    It wasn’t a question. “Yes,” she said, self-conscious about the stares coming her way, knowing she couldn’t do anything more intimate than say thanks. “I just … I couldn’t have gotten over that hurdle without you, and Keenan. Thank you.”
    His visor hid his face, but he reached out and patted the Duc’s scratched gas tank. “I knew you could do it,” he said. “See you around.”
    Fumbling with her helmet, she bounded up the stairs to the library’s staff entrance, her legs both wobbly and supercharged. But the thing that stuck in her mind as she keyed into the building was the way Jack’s hand didn’t shake when he patted the gas tank.

Chapter Six
    She was lit up like a city at night, her legs wobbly on the stairs to the library’s employee entrance, feeling both inordinately proud of her motorcycle gear, and terrifyingly exposed. The helmet banged against the doorframe on her way in, making everyone seated in the shared office space look up.
    So much for avoiding attention.
    â€œWhat on earth?” Carol said, her eyes widening.
    â€œHi,” she said with a quick glance at the clock. “I’m not … I’ll tell you later, after I get changed.”
    She ducked into the bathroom, banging her elbows and knees on the tiny stall as she shimmied out of the tight leathers and into her slacks. Her blouse, fortunately, was a forgiving polyester blend, but the scent of leather and sweat and skin was unmistakable. She scrubbed her fingers against her scalp to give her helmet hair some lift, then peered at herself in the mirror.
    She looked like she’d just had sex. Amazing sex. Heart-pounding, multi-orgasmic sex. Same flushed cheeks and throat, same bright eyes, same obvious but inexplicable energy vibrating in her skin.
    The bathroom door opened and one of the work-study students walked in, her quick gaze taking in Erin’s face and hair, the helmet at her feet, the leathers neatly folded and tucked into her backpack. “Wow. Was that, like, you I saw riding up with what’s his name, the SEAL guy who’s lurking all mysterious and broody in the psych classes?”
    She should have frozen. She should have lied. They were in a relationship, which was expressly forbidden by the school’s code of conduct. She should have felt ashamed, threatened, exposed.
    â€œYes,” she said simply. Chin lifted, gaze direct. It wasn’t about truth or lies. It was about claiming who she was becoming. “That was me.”
    The student nodded, then slung her backpack down on the floor. “Cool,” she said, and walked into a stall. Erin bolted the second the door closed, shoving her backpack and helmet under her desk, then turned to Carol. “I bought a motorcycle,” she said.
    â€œYou did?” Carol said, eyes wide.
    â€œA Ducati Monster 696.”
    â€œNice bike,” Terry the bearded electronic collections librarian said, peering around from behind his wall of monitors. Erin stared at him, because in the six months he’d been working at the library, he’d said not a single word not related to the job. “New?”
    â€œA couple of years,” she said. “It’s in the lot.”
    Just like that, everyone who wasn’t working with a student crowded back through the door and down the stairs to the parking lot to cluster around Erin’s new bike.
    â€œWow,” Carol said.
    â€œWho put the scratches in it?” Terry said, fingering the gouge in the paint.
    â€œI did, about two hours ago,” Erin admitted.
    â€œKeep the shiny side up,” he said sagely.
    â€œWorking on it.”
    â€œI didn’t know you knew how to ride a motorcycle,” Carol said.
    â€œI learned,” Erin said. “The state offers beginner rider courses. Some dealerships give you a discount on a bike afterwards,