Colt:
The rumble of my engine cut off as I parked out front, the familiar gravel crunching under my boots as I made my way to the front door. Beckett had told me to swing by this morning, said he wanted to go over some stuff for the upcoming club ride. Nothing urgent, but I hadn’t seen Ella Claire since her big return, and if I was being honest, I was hoping she’d answer the door.
And f**k me, did I get lucky.
The door swung open, and there she was.
Ella Claire.
Hair piled in some messy twist like she’d just rolled out of bed, bare-faced and impossibly beautiful. She wore one of those oversized hoodies that looked like it could’ve swallowed her whole, sleeves hanging past her fingertips. But it was the shorts that got me—those tiny black biker shorts that barely covered anything, legs
