“Because you can’t hold them while you’re on a bike.”
EIGHTEEN
KYRA
I haveno idea what the hell he has planned, but my jaw remains tight as I walk toward the church yard, thoughts still swirling faster than water down a drain at the fucking audacity to tell me to leave my mask off.
What the hell does he mean? I didn’t have the fucking thing on.
The sunlight grows warmer as it dulls, slipping behind the cozy cottages lined up along Parish Road. I could probably ransack the records at work and confirm my suspicion, but I’ve always thought the church must have bought the whole damn street and cherry-picked who got to live here, given how perfect it’s always looked. As though the congregation couldn’t bear to look out their door on a Sunday and see evidence of the very hardships they’re supposed to be charitable about.
Because Heaven forbid they actually had to prove their piousness, not just orate it.
Jinx waits like a total oxymoron, legs crossed at the ankle before him as he leans against the seat of his bike, scrolling his phone. He’s a tower of muscle and braun, yet there’s a deep vulnerability I tweaked when I pulled away from our kiss.
I could have melted into him in that moment. Given myself over and willingly floated away to a carnal place of sheer bliss. Lord knows I need the stress relief.
But my better instincts kicked in, and I pulled back before I let my heart get carried away with the making of the plans.
And he figured I hesitated because of my father.
I hesitated because of his. Because of what that man made him.
If he wants us to give this a try, I’m not jumping in feet first until I know how deep his black pool is.
He lifts his head as I approach, a slow appreciative take of my new attire. Not that it’s anything special. I literally ransacked my wardrobe for anything I thought would be good enough for a motorbike ride and came up with a barely suitable pair of jeans and a faux-leather jacket.
I feel like a right poser.
Especially next to him.
“I hope you’re not taking me anywhere near your club.”
“Why?” He fights a slight grin.
“Because I’ll feel like a right idiot when they see what I’m wearing.”
“You care what they think that much?” He lifts an eyebrow.
Fuck him.“I care what they think ofyouthat much.”
“Darlin’,” he says with a slight chuckle before raising his hands in apology. “You should see how little some of the women who come back for a night wear.”
“Ew.” Definitely don’t need to know about that. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”
Asshole leaves me guessing, then turns to his bike and retrieves a plain helmet instead. “Here. We’re not going anywhere until you put this on.”
“Good.” I take it from him and tug it over my hair that I pulled into a low ponytail. I have no doubt it’ll be a knotted messby the time we arrive wherever we’re going, but if he wanted me to look pretty, he should have brought a car. “Thanks.”
Jinx watches as I adjust and clip the strap, then grabs his own. “If you want me to stop, just pat my arm twice, okay?”
“Likewise.”
He smirks, then obscures his face behind a tinted visor.
The old boys used to ride around town with open-face helmets, long beards flowing in the wind, and barely anything covering their skulls. Either the younger generation is smarter, or they’ve seen enough mangled faces from road accidents to decide otherwise, because more often than not, the club members wear full-face getups like Jinx has on now.
I startle when his voice cuts into my thoughts. “Do you want to take the direct route or the scenic ride?” I totally wasn’t expecting an intercom.
