Warner tips back on his heels, and even with the dim lighting, I think I make out a blush on his cheeks.“I’m sorry.I’m crowding you, aren’t I?”
I shrug.“That depends.”
“On what?”
“If you stop when I say stop.”
“Do you want me to go?”He tilts his head toward the bar, and I realize that he would.He’d walk away.
And he doesn’t seem annoyed with me or like he’s planning on calling me a bitch for not accepting his offer of help.
Seems I might have stumbled onto a decent guy.
“Not sure yet.Can I see your license?”
With his eyebrows sitting high on his head, he fishes around in a back pocket before coming out with a wallet.When he passes over his license, the card is warm in my hand.I shine my flashlight so I can read the small print.
Warner Jameson.Just like he said.
His picture doesn’t do him justice.This man was meant to be seen in 3D.I find the annotation proclaiming him qualified to drive a motorcycle.
“Everything check out?”
“Looks like it.Here, hold this.”I offer the flashlight to him.Even with a bewildered expression, he accepts it.“A bit higher.There, that’s good.”As Warner keeps the light turned on his ID, I take out my phone, snap a picture, and text it to my dad.
“And you did that because …”
I return his license and accept my flashlight.“Preemptive murder protection.”
Warner stares at me, the neon lights from the bar’s beer signs giving his skin a colorful cast.“That’s … really smart.”He hands me back the flashlight.“Damn, Zoey Gunner.You’re kinda intimidating.”
“Only kinda?”I smile, then approach the line of bikes, admiring the variety of beautifully crafted machines.“Which one is yours?”
“You’ll let me drive you?”Warner’s eagerness bleeds into his voice and his grin.Happy Biker Guy is almost too handsome for me to deal with.
“I don’t know why you want to, but sure.”I follow my new acquaintance to a pitch-black Harley, whose seat he pats with affection.
Just then my phone buzzes with a text from Dad.
Got it.Have fun.Don’t get murdered.Text me by tomorrow morning if you don’t want me to call the cops.Or your brothers.
There’s no better threat he could’ve issued.
4
WARNER
“Helmet, please.”Zoey holds her hand out.
“You’re not worried about messing up your hair?”I unsnap a saddlebag and pull out the half helmet I barely ever bother with.
Her lips twist to the side in a grimace.“I’m betting a skull fracture would do a hell of a lot more to mess with my side part.”
Before she can take the head protection from me, I’m already settling it in place, enjoying the silky brush of her hair against my fingertips as I go to snap the buckle.After tightening the chinstrap, I slide a finger in between the strap and her chin, noticing the flutter of her pulse.
I can’t pass up any opportunity to touch her.Still, I don’t linger.If I come on as strong as my instincts clamor to, I might scare her away.
Slow and steady.Let her come to me.
