Standing, I make my way to the hook beside my door and grab my purse and jean jacket, slipping it on as I walk. Nate’s got the door open, holding it for me.
The man is a conundrum. He’s a rough-and-tumble biker dude who brings flowers that he grew himself and holds doors for me. See? Conundrum.
When we approach the motorcycle, my stomach flips. “I brought you Zoe’s helmet. If you enjoy the ride, I’ll get you one of your own.”
He doesn’t want a relationship, but he’s going to buy me a helmet so I can ride with him? Now, see… that’s confusing.
Not that I want a relationship. I don’t. That’s the last thing I want or need after Travis.
Ignoring his comments, I take the helmet and place it on my head. Nate steps up and snaps the strap into place, adjusting it so it fits properly. “This one is fine, but it’s safest to have your own so it can be adjusted to you.”
“I see.”
“I’ll get on first, then you hop on. Put your feet on these pegs. Keep ‘em there.” He points to the metal bars that jut out from the motorcycle.
Once I’m settled in behind me, he touches my leg. “Scoot as close to my back as possible.”
I do as he instructs.
“Now, wrap your arms around me.”
I slide my arms around him and feel his abs. They’re as firm as his chest. He takes hold of one of my hands and tugs me closer. “You want to be flat up against me.”
Oh. Boy.
“And one last thing. When I lean the bike, you lean with me. Yeah?”
“Okay.”
Nate kicks the bike to life, and the rumble beneath my butt is startling. Not in a bad way.
“Here we go.” Nate turns on his signal and moves the bike out slowly from the curb in front of my house. The speed limit on my street is only twenty-five, so I know he’s not going very fast, but he speeds up progressively. I can feel the difference, and that sense of foreboding is subsiding somewhat.
At a stop sign, Nate gives my hand a squeeze. “Okay so far, Prudence?”
“Yes.”
We turn left, and as we do, he leans. I remember the rules and lean with him. “Good, honey.”
Why did that praise make me warm inside? I shouldn’t care what this guy says. Right? Nate takes a scenic drive outside of town. On the highway, he speeds the bike up, and do you want to know something? It’s exhilarating. More than that, it feels amazing. I giggle with every acceleration, and I’m not sure why.
Nate turns his head and yells, “Great, right?”
“It is.” Crud. I giggle some more.
He touches my hand again and gives it another squeeze. We ride for a while longer, turning off onto two-lane highway until we approach a roadside diner about ten or fifteen miles east of Oakbrook. I’ve never even seen this restaurant before. The sign that announces it’s Stella’s Place above the door is barely hanging on by a thread. The paint is chipped, and if it weren’t for someone going back over the words hastily in black paint, we wouldn’t be able to read it. “What are we doing?”
“This place has the best food on the planet.” He pats my knee. “Hang onto my shoulders, stand, and swing that gorgeous leg over and hop off.”
Why is the only thing I heard “gorgeous leg”? No matter, I do what he instructs. Standing next to the bike, I try to unsnap the helmet, but it’s giving me trouble. Nate reaches up and does it for me. At the same moment he’s lifting it off, he leans down and gives me a sweet kiss. “See?” He smiles. “Fun, right?”
“It was.” It really was.
I watch as he stows the helmet in a compartment on the back of the bike, retrieving my purse in the process. I start the walk to the front door in front of him. When he pats my bottom and says, “Like your ass in those jeans, honey.” I smile.
Oh boy. Two weeks ago, I would have thought that was crass and sexist, but that thinking has been replaced by the other part of me who doesn’t mind the compliment, especially since I’ve been riding my butt off on my bike nearly every day. It’s nice he noticed. I haven’t lost a bunch of weight or anything, but my clothes fit differently. Better since I’ve been riding. My eating habits have improved; I try to make healthier choices––mostof the time. “My ass is all thanks tomybike.”
He takes my hand. “You enjoy that? Bicyclin’?”
