Sean wasn’t Vince, I was ready to move forward. I couldn’t wait for the Cup to be behind us. It might be time to start packing for more than Florida, maybe for a future that starts with a ring.
Then—
A roar outside, then quiet. My heart drummed. No freaking way.
I stood, walked to the front door and peeked outside.
Sean. On my driveway, on his bike, in full leather-jacket glory.
I laughed and jogged down the porch steps.
“What are you doing here?” I called out.
He grinned, helmet under one arm. “Taking you out for a ride.”
I blinked. “You’re in full Cup chase!”
“And someone once told me even coaches can pause once in a while. The Cup won’t vanish if I look away from the roster for thirty minutes.”
My heart swelled, my breath catching on the way out.
“I’m waiting,” he added, eyes twinkling.
I went back inside, a thrill running through me. The very bike I’d sworn off... Sometimes it’s not about the ride—it’s about his smirk and him waiting for you.
I threw on sneakers over my leggings, loosened my ponytail to fit under the helmet, pouch belt strapped with keys and phone, and headed back out.
He helped me buckle the strap, fingers brushing my jaw. Then, footsteps echoed behind us.
We turned, mom was walking up the drive, purse slung over her shoulder, expression unreadable.
“Hi Ruby,” Sean said. “Nice to see you again. A beautiful evening to be out, isn’t it?”
Meltdown? Nope. Mel stone statue in yoga pants.
I didn’t know what to feel. This was the first time I’d seen her since realizing she’d been harboring jealousy toward me. And here was Sean—my hot-to-burn boyfriend in a leather jacket—being effortlessly charming to the woman who’d spent years making me feel small.
I gazed at him, then at her. Closed up, she looked shocked. Another surprise—she didn’t know Sean owned this bad boy bike.
“Hi, yes,” she managed.
“We’re taking advantage of it too. Have a good rest of your evening,” Sean said, adjusting his own helmet strap.
We climbed onto the bike, I wrapped my arms around him and let the engine drown out everything else.
We rode through Folsom, my town, the wind warm against my cheeks, Sean’s leather jacket pressing against my boobs. He didn’t say much, and I didn’t mind, his presence was enough.
We stopped at a hotdog food truck squeezed between two buildings. He ordered two, loaded with mustard and onions, and handed me one with a grin.
“Best dinner date you’ve ever had?” he asked, biting into his.
“Top five,” I teased, mouth full. “But you’re climbing the ranks.”
He chuckled, and I melted a little more.
By the time he pulled into my driveway, the sky had deepened to velvet. He killed the engine, I unstrapped my helmet.
His smirk went crooked. “For someone who couldn’t stand my bike, you’re liking it more than me.”
