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Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12 I'm not prepared for Waylon to be here, asking why I came to his trailer. He’s standing so close…so close I can smell his engine and leather scent even though he’s not on his motorcycle or wearing his club jacket. There’s also a faint sweat odor—the kind that comes with a day of hard work. It should be off-putting. But…it’s not. It’s just not. My body reacts to his nearness, and my brain statics, not knowing what to do with him or his question. He looms, and I avert my eyes, not sure how to answer. But even with my eyes pushed in a different direction, I can’t miss the lopsided grin that turns up his lips. “You telling me I missed it when you finally showed up at my trailer to submit?” Okay, that cocky question unstatics my brain. “No,” I answer, righteous indignation kic
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