“I can’t say that I have ever had the pleasure,” I say. Trying to sound confident. In reality, I’m far from it. I have always admired the look of a motorcycle. I just never thought I would be riding on the back of one.
“You will love it. Now put on the helmet,” he demands. I pull the helmet over my head. He gets on the bike. I look at the small space behind him. It isn’t as small as I thought, but still.Is this going to work?
“Hop on, we need to get back to the loft before dark,” he urges me. Rolling my eyes again, I swing my leg over and sit down tentatively. Reaching behind him he pulls my arms around his torso.
“Hold on tight and copy what I do,” he says. With those simple and less than detailed instructions, the bike roars to life. He pulls away gently and I squeal and squeeze him tighter. I don’t care how I look right now, I’m just worried about not falling off.
In just a few minutes we arrive at the loft. I can’t believe how much fun that was.I hope I get to do it again.The wayward thought floats through my mind. I pull off the helmet and shake my head. Handing it back to Sterling, I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
“You liked that, did you,” he asks me smugly. I wish I could lie, but I don’t. I can barely stop myself from jumping up and down.
“It was so fun,” I try to sound cool. I don’t succeed, but he smiles back at me widely. In an instant his hand is pulling my face towards his for a kiss.He certainly does a lot of this. I think to myself.
We make our way upstairs, and Sterling starts pulling out the leftover Chinese food containers from last night. He turns to me and pulls me to him.
“Look, I don’t do a lot of talking. And I’m sure I will fuck this up, but I need you to just listen to me,” his tone is almost pleading. He lifts me up on the counter again so that we are eye level. I nod. My mouth is dry. The fact that he makes me feel feminine and dainty is just amazing to me.
“You may not believe me just yet, and that is okay. Because I am going to continue to prove this to you over and over again. Until it is ingrained in you— like muscle memory. You are MINE. I am not going anywhere and I don’t want you to go anywhere either,” he says this so matter of factly that I’m dumbfounded. He isn’t finished.
“I don’t think you see yourself clearly, and you certainly don’t see yourself how I see you. Hopefully we can work on it. Finally, I’m sorry about not telling you about the background check. It was necessary, and sometimes I’ll do things that aren’t popular to keep you safe,” it’s like he had a bulleted list of things to say in his mind.
I’m not exactly sure what to say. Even though I try to bury it, insecurity is a wicked thing. His words echo in my brain over and over.You are MINE. You are MINE.The feminist inside me should be screaming. However, she is oddly silent. Where is she when you need her?
My mouth must be hanging open, because all of a sudden Sterling’s lips are on mine. His tongue is memorizing every inch of my mouth again. For the second night in a row, the Chinese food lays forgotten on the counter. My hands come up and fist the back of his shirt. We are interrupted by his phone ringing again.
He tears his mouth away from mine and starts to swear. Taking his phone out of his back pocket, he looks at it.
“Yeah, Holt,” he says for my benefit. Knowing that I was curious. I appreciate the small gesture.
“Is that right, son of a bitch. Carter would have gotten there if we had just given him another day,” Sterling says.
“I’ll let her know, see you in the morning,” he ends the call and looks at me. For a second, I think he is going to pick up where we left off, but he sighs.
“Lets eat something, okay. I’ll let you know what we know. Besides, I know you haven’t had much but coffee,” he raises his eyebrow and points to the stool.
“Sit,” he demands. Rolling my eyes, I do as I’m told. Sitting on the chair I watch him put some lo mein and sweet and sour chicken on my plate and popping it in the microwave. He looks at me for a moment.
“Does the name Quentin Ashfield mean anything to you,” he poses the question carefully. Almost as if he is afraid I’m going to lose my mind.
Quentin Ashfield…Quentin Ashfield…My mind is searching all over. The name is familiar. Suddenly, I felt like I was hit with a truck.
“Quentin Ashfield is a landowner in High Ridge. He planned to sell his property to a developer and change the landscape of our area forever. I was hired to put together a campaign outlining how much it would change this area,” I state mechanically.
“Obviously, I haven’t been paying attention. I do remember a couple of brochures around town about the dangers of overdevelopment. That was you,” Sterling states almost in admiration. I nod my head and go on.
“After about 2 months the city council members voted no to rezone the property. The developer backed out of the deal and Ashfield kept the property,” I feel hollow. I finally understand why this was happening.
“Hey, hey. You did your job. You didn’t physically hurt anyone. You saved hundreds of small businesses and probably alot of wildlife too. Don’t beat yourself up about it. They guy was off his rocker obviously,” Sterling states. He hands me my plate.
“Eat, and here have some water,” more demands from him. He is lucky he is pretty and also lucky because I know his demands come from a place of caring.
“Would it hurt you to phrase these demands as questions,” I ask him sarcastically. He shrugs and digs into his own plate.
“Haven’t you ever heard the saying, you get more flies with honey,” I continue to tease him. He glares at me and points to the plate. Dutifully I put a piece of chicken in my mouth.
Chapter 28
Sterling
