I really should have chosen a different town to hunker down in for a few months. This place brings back too many unwanted memories.
I step forward, feigning confidence I don’t have. “We get on my bike and ride to my car.”
Her eyes search for my Diamondback, propped against the tree. “Both of us?”
I glare down to snap a retort about our options, because I’m in a piss-poor mood, but I lock on her beautiful face and lose focus. She’s injured, and I’m mad for reasons I can’t explain and worried about her at the same time, when I should feel nothing but eager to get her back to her friends.
I give my head a mental shake. “Why don’t you stop talking, conserve your energy?”
Her mouth pinches as if she sees through to the insult. “Set me down, Tyler. I don’t want you holding me.” Her pale cheeks, which are normally a golden brown, darken even in this light.
“Nope.” I hike her higher.
My demeanor is cool, as though I have everything under control, but I’m concerned about how this will work. Riding two-man goes more smoothly when one of the individuals isn’t incapacitated.
I reach for the bike while balancing her in my arms. “Can you hold on to the back of my neck?”
She peers at me skeptically.
“Mira, I’m trying to help you. Throw me a bone so I can dump your ass—I mean—deposit you with Lewis.”
She rolls her eyes, but her arms go up past my shoulders, gripping me surprisingly tightly given her condition. She rests her head below my chin and her mouth brushes the skin of my neck in what feels like a light nuzzle…
I nearly lose my grip on the bike.
“Mouth off.” I’m not sure if the lip graze was intentional or not, but I don’t goddamn care. I can’t do this if she puts her lips on me. My head is messed up enough without Mira screwing with it.
A heavy sigh warms the flesh her lips taunt. She lifts her head and tilts it back, her caramel eyes melting my rage a degree. “You can stop hating me, Tyler.”
I don’t answer. I have nothing to say.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says. “And you?—”
“If this is about things that happened back in high school, I barely remember it. Spare me your apology and remain still so I can get us out of here.”
She huffs out an annoyed sigh.
Still sassy. Nothing’s changed. That’s the problem. Too many things are the same.
I shift her in my arms and sit on my bike, supporting her weight with one arm and holding on to the handlebar with the other.
Progress is slow, but we make it to my Land Cruiser without me dropping her or crashing into a tree. Mira is slender, but my arms burn after navigating the bike through a mile and a half of bumpy terrain.
I ease her off my lap and steady her on her feet. She wobbles, and I’m concerned about the head wound. I help her to the car and open the passenger door.
The interior light reveals a red and purple smudge on her cheek—featuring a distinct handprint.
I grip the doorframe, a rush of heat rising from my chest, flaming my face. Mira definitely didn’t fall in the woods. And for some reason, the thought of someone hurting her makes me extremely angry. “You wanna tell me about it?” I gesture to her face and the cut on her head.
She scoots onto the cracked seat cushions I’ve never paid attention to until now. The jagged edges of the upholstery scrape the exposed flesh where her jacket is torn. She tilts her head against the headrest, her gaze flickering to me, then out the window. She doesn’t say anything.
I was a dick earlier. Of course she’s not going to tell me what happened. I lean in and click the belt across her lap. I shut the passenger door and round the front of the Cruiser. I shoot a text to Lewis that I’ve found her, then climb in the driver’s side.
“Sorry about back there,” I say, squeezing the steering wheel. “And what I said. It was a long time ago. I’m just—I’m in a bad mood. Don’t mind me.” I insert the key and start the engine. “I’ll get you someplace safe. You can tell Lewis what happened. He’s really worried.”
“But not you,” she says to the window in a voice I can’t read. Her stoic expression gives nothing away. No more high emotion from Mira. That moment has passed.
I stare at the side of her smooth cheekbone, the curve of her full lips. Mira is both classically beautiful and exotic-looking. Add long, dark-brown hair, beautiful eyes, and creamy skin, and the girl makes an entrance. But that’s not what drew me years ago.
