Biker Chicks: An Anthology of Hot MC Romance by A.J. Downey Page A

room.
    “I’m Mr. Fielding, you can call me George,” he told me, as my jaw dropped open and I gasped. “And this is Blake Holden.”
    I could feel all of the blood rushing to my feet and my head starting to spin as preppy boy rose to his feet with an awkward smile. My knees started to buckle. I could feel myself slowly lowering to the floor as preppy boy’s arms enveloped my waist.
    “Grab a chair, George,” he called out, a few seconds before I felt something push under me. “Let me grab you some water.”
    Before I knew which way was up, preppy boy was knelt between my legs helping me take sips from a glass as a flash of him naked caused me to choke. He was so handsome, so beautiful and so not supposed to be here.
    “What the fuck,” I said, shoving the glass away. “Are you stalking me, you sick fucker?”
    “Bella,” he said, with an apprehensive look on his face. “We need to talk.”
    “Talk?” I laughed angrily, as my stomach knotted. “Did my Uncle Ace pay you to follow me?”
    His brows knit together, his eyes narrowing as he rose to his feet. “I don’t know anyone named Ace…come with me and I’ll explain everything.” He held out his hand. “Would you give us a minute, George?”
    “As long as it takes, Blake,” Mr. Fielding said, nodding his head like an obedient puppy.
    My hand slipped into his, his warm palm heating mine. Like an electric current had been passed between us, I felt my heart start to thaw and my stomach fill with butterflies. Stupid butterflies. I didn’t want to like the feel of him or the way his possessive touch ignited something inside me, making my breath hitch and my heart skip a beat. I didn’t want to feel anything but the miserable me I had become. I attempted to pull my hand free, only to cause his hold to tighten.
    Across the hall, he opened the door and pulled me into what looked like a copy room. There was a large Xerox copier and shelves piled high with multicolored paper and file folders. One wall resembled the filing system in my doctor’s office, with one of the sliding doors propped open with an old wooden ruler. He directed me to a small leather love seat and waited until I sat before joining me.
    “My name is Blake Holden,” he started, his knee pressed against mine, distracting me for a moment. “I was your grandmother’s power of attorney.”
    “You knew my gran?” I asked.
    “I met Carina when she was a patient at Briarwoods,” he told me, like I knew what he was talking about. “I was volunteering. I was painting patient rooms. That’s how I met her.”
    “I barely knew my gran,” I frowned, feeling stupid for being so out of the loop. “I never knew she was in an old age home.”
    “It’s more like a retirement community,” he assured me. “I don’t like calling them old age homes. Beside, your gran wasn’t that old, she was a nice lady. We got to know each other very well, she told me all about her life while she kept me company. Most importantly she told me about you and how she regretted the way things turned out between the two of you.”
    He went on to tell me things I had never heard before, things I should have known, things she should have told me as her granddaughter. I missed it all by allowing my uncle to rule my life. I was feeling damned guilty for not standing up to him and making things right with her. The abusive way I grew up seemed all so fitting now.
    “Was she alone when she died?”
    “No. I was with her,” he told me, placing his hand over mine. “She didn’t suffer, she simply closed her eyes and faded away…you look lost.”
    “I am,” I said, looking into his eyes. “I guess. We didn’t get along because I was a childish brat, what can I say?”
    “Your grandmother asked me to make sure you got here safe, she told me what she knew about your situation.”
    I raised a brow. “Situation.”
    “I honestly never meant for us to meet until today. But things happened when I found you at the