I raise a brow. “What’s so great about the city, anyway? The overpriced coffee or the human traffic jams?”
“All sorts of things. You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. I have a doorman who knows all about my good days and even the bad ones. And when I get lonely?” She leans against the seat of my bike like it’s hers. “I look down at all the people and I remember I’m not actually alone.”
Damn, she's beautiful. Even when she’s being impossible. Not just in the way she looks, but in the way she talks, the passion in her eyes. There’s something about her independence and the way she clings to this life she’s built.
“You really think you’d miss all that?”
She shrugs, and the look in her eyes says she’s not so sure. Her fingers trail along the handlebar, and the look in her eyes says she’d rather be here—she just doesn’t want to admit it yet. Then a slight wobble in her stance catches my eye.
“Did you drink any of Mama’s Porch Punch?” I ask, wanting to taste her lips to find out for myself.
“Maybe,” she says, lips curving like she’s daring me to call her on it. “It was delicious.”
I tip my head, watching her too close. “You do realize it has moonshine in it?”
Her eyes widen, then she shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Well Idid notknow that, but relax, cowboy.I’m fine.”
“You are outta your damn mind if you think I'm lettin’ you drive back after drinkin’ that.”
“You act like you can stop me,” she says playfully.
I step in closer, my voice dropping. “Here’s how it is. Long as the storm don’t get worse, I’ll stay out here in the rain with you all night if that’s what you want. We can stay here talkin’… or you can hop on the back of my bike. Those are your options.”
Her chin tips up, defiant. “And what if I don’t wanna hop on the back?”
“Then we go with option one. Maybe I like listenin’ to you talk more than I should, anyway.”
She snorts, like she doesn’t believe me. “You don’t seem like the type who likes to listen to anyone talk.”
A grin breaks free. “Maybe I’m not the type I seem.”
“Well then,” she says, eyes glinting, “tell me something real. I've heard all the ‘Trouble’ rumors. But tell me something about Tristan.”
There are few things in this world that I can say I love—whiskey with a good burn, the freedom of the open road on my bike, riding a strong bull. But the way she says my name almost knocks the wind outta me. It's like a favorite song on an old guitar, familiar but somehow makes my chest ache in the best damn way.
“There’s nothing you need to know,” I say, stepping closer. “I’m not a good guy. I’m not the safe choice. And I’m definitely not the one you bring home to Daddy.”
But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.
“Well, it just so happens I’m not looking for someone safe, not looking for someone to bring home either.”
I know that’s gotta be a lie. She made her ex wait six months. Safe is exactly what she wants, but I know shewon’t admit that. Right now with her cheeks flushed, I know the punch is hittin’ its peak.
“Darlin’, that's the porch punch talkin’. I know folks ‘round here already warned you about men like me. Best thing you can do is keep your distance.”
She takes a step closer, hips swaying just enough to make me forget what the fuck I’m saying. She’s too close now, looking too good, and I’m one wrong breath away from losing every bit of sense I’ve got left.
“Funny, you telling me to keep my distance,” she whispers, sky-lit eyes sparkling. “But you’re looking at me like you wanna be the reason I don’t.”
Andfuck me—because I do.
"All I know is that I can't give you what you're looking for," I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her lips. My fingers linger a second too long.
She tilts her head, mouth parting just slightly. “And what exactly am I looking for?”
I drag my gaze down to her lips, then back up. "For more than I could give you."
The rain starts to fall harder, soaking through fabric and reason. My chest tightens, caught between the desire to pull her close and ending this before it goes any further.
