Fire Inside: A Chaos Novel by Kristen Ashley

Author:Kristen Ashley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Contemporary Women, Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Suspense, Erotica
ISBN: 9781455599288
Publisher: Forever
Published: 2013-06-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

No Regrets

“So, you were a rock star?”

I grinned as I watched Hop press his handsome head into the pillow and burst out laughing.

It was Tuesday night.

I was in Hop’s bed at Hop’s house. It was the first time I’d been there.

I found, after following his directions, that Hopper Kincaid lived in a nondescript split-level on a cul-de-sac in a regular neighborhood, not a clandestine biker bunker I had to be led to blindfolded.

This was a surprise but not a disappointment.

The house was nice although it was clear he could spend more time on the yard. The moment after I had this thought, my mind purged it. Hopper Kincaid and yard work didn’t go together. What did go together was, if his neighbors didn’t like it, since he was a badass biker, they probably didn’t complain and just put up with it.

The minute I walked in (after Hop laid a hot and heavy one on me in the open doorway), I was assaulted by décor that shouted, “A man lives here!”

The prevailing colors were black and brown. Dark brown. The feel wasn’t “sit and stay a while,” but “kick back and lounge for however long you want, preferably with a beer.”

It was not the way I would decorate but I had to say, I liked it.

It was pure Hop.

There was framed rock memorabilia everywhere. Signed pictures of Springsteen, Seger, Clapton, Page, these intermingled with framed tickets, rock concert posters, and posters from motorcycle rallies.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to peruse this Museum of Rock (and Motorcycle Rallies) because dinner was ready and I got surprise number two of the night.

Hop could cook.

He made a meatloaf that had been basted in a sweetened tomato sauce that was out of this world. It was so good Mamaw would approve, and that was saying something.

When I shared this information, he grinned at me and stated, “Don’t get excited, lady. I can kick ass with ground beef and I can broil the fuck out of a pork chop but outside that, my cooking is not much to write home about.”

I was looking forward to him “broiling the fuck out of a pork chop” for me, but I didn’t share that mainly because I was shoveling meatloaf in my mouth.

Now, the dirty dishes were in the sink and we were in Hop’s bed. This was because he didn’t waste time after dinner in starting the tour of his house. This included a lot more man stuff, the not-surprising knowledge that Hop wasn’t exactly tidy, and the equally not-surprising knowledge that Cody was a Hop Mini-Me (seeing as his room was filled with motorcycle and rock stuff).

The revelation was Molly’s room, which was painted a pastel yellow and decorated effusively in every shade of purple under the sun, with a liberal sprinkling of daisies in the form of daisy lamps, a daisy motif to the bedclothes, daisy prints on the walls, and a daisy nightlight.

Glancing into Molly’s room was more proof badass biker Hopper Kincaid loved his daughter.

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