Wouldn’t I have offered more rides if it had?
Maybe it’s just Zoey.Knowing that the chest cushioned against my shoulder blades is hers, same with the arms twining around my middle.And, hell, those perfectly shaped thighs are the ones cupping my own legs.Plus, that extra bit of heat soaking into my lower back is from her?—
I shake my head, trying to focus on guiding my bike out onto the dark road toward town.If I let thoughts of Zoey’s body wrapped around mine take up too much of my concentration, we might end up careening into a ditch on the side of the road.
At least, if that happens, we’re both wearing helmets.
5
ZOEY
The Wild Rabbitsits on a corner of Main Street, alight with a warm glow and inviting laughter that spills out the front door as a couple exits, hand in hand.Above the door hangs a sign with the name and a hand-painted bunny, balancing a serving tray with a frothy mug of beer.
This atmosphere makes sense for a crochet group.Still, I can’t help but wonder how the dynamic would be different if a group of women claimed half of The Rabbit Hole every Wednesday night to drink and stitch and gossip.
Would the atmosphere be tense?Or would the night end with the crocheters handing the bikers their asses at the pool tables?
I guess we’ll never know.
The bike rocks as Warner parks it along the curb and pushes out the kickstand.
The man is a good driver.After the helmet issue, I was worried.But he kept to the speed limit, used his signals, and made it an all-around smooth ride.That, combined with the vibration of the bike between my legs and the comforting heat radiating off his back, had my lady parts taking all sorts of notice.
Which is ridiculous.I’ve known the guy for maybe thirty minutes.
“You want to head inside?If not, we can go for a longer ride.”The biker smiles at me over his shoulder.
At his suggestion, I realize I’ve been silently admiring Warner’s driving skills while we sit on a now-dormant motorcycle.
“Another time,” I say as I dismount, even though I should be declining the invite with a firm but friendly refusal.
I’m attending Sip ’N’ Stitch to avoid my hermit tendencies.That does not mean I need to start flirting with a sexy man.
Maybe if I was a sex-’em-up-and-wave-goodbye kind of girl.A lot of times I wish I could be.Or my vagina wishes I could be.I’m certain I’ve heard her crying out a time or two …
Get some dick!Any dick will do!
But that’s a lie, and I know it.If I let anyone close, I’m bound to love them.That’s just the way it goes.I don’t seek people out because I’m fine on my own.But those who figure out a way into my life earn my love almost in spite of myself.
And Warner’s helpful ways and charming smile are strong indicators I could like him.Which means I could love him.
I did not come to Pine Falls to find love.I came here to figure out if I could survive without it.
This trip is for me and me alone.
Firmly resolved not to fall for the helpful biker, I turn to wave him good night, only to find him a step behind me.
“What are you doing?”The question comes out more abrupt than I meant it to.But abrupt is my default setting.
Warner doesn’t seem to mind as he gifts me with a cheeky grin.“You’re so determined to get to this Sip and Sew thing; no way can I leave without checking it out.”
“Sip ’N’ Stitch,” I correct.Then wait, staring at him.
“Sip ’N’ Stitch,” he amends, giving what I expect is supposed to be a humble nod.The affect is ruined by his twitching lips.
It would be easier to be annoyed with him if he wasn’t the perfect combination of sexy and adorable.
“All right.You can come in.But don’t embarrass me, Biker Boy.This is my only shot to make a first impression, and I’m already late.”
