I hesitate for half a second, acutely aware of my fingerless gloves, then take it. His palm is warm. Rough in a way that sends an unexpected spark up my arm.
“Mindy.”
“Nice to meet you, Mindy.” He releases my hand slowly, like he’s not in any rush to let go. “So. First date in a while?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Believe it or not, I won him at a bachelor auction.”
His eyebrows lift. “Right.”
“It was for charity,” I rush to add, immediately regretting how defensive that sounds. “And I was very tired. And there was champagne.”
“Ah.” His smile deepens. “The trifecta of impulsive decisions.”
“Exactly.” I exhale, relieved he isn’t judging me. “What about you? Were you also under the influence of tiredness and champagne when you set up your date?”
“Sort of.” He scratches at his jaw. “My sister claimed she thought it would be good for me.”
“That sounds… nice.”
He snorts. “It’s more like she was desperate and I was there.”
We share a look. A moment of instant camaraderie over meddling loved ones and questionable choices.
“So,” I say, gesturing vaguely toward the path. “Are you riding tonight?”
He follows my gaze. Then looks back at me. Something unreadable flickers across his expression.
“Not exactly.”
“Oh.” I glance down at my bike shoes. “I mean, I’m not very fast. Or coordinated. Or good with hills.”
He lets out a quiet chuckle. “You’ll do just fine.”
“I hope so.” I tug at the hem of my jacket. “I’m new in town. I just moved here last week.”
“Did you?”
“Mm-hmm. I’m doing event planning for one of the casinos. My friend got me the job.”
“Nice friend.”
“She is.” I smile. “She’s also the reason I went to the auction in the first place.”
“That tracks.”
I laugh again, then hesitate. “What about you? Have you lived here long?”
“Long enough.” His gaze lingers on me, thoughtful. “Long enough to know this city’s good at pretending to be something it’s not.”
I feel that in my chest. “Yeah. That’s kind of what I’m hoping to avoid.”
“Well.” He straightens, rolling his shoulders. “Looks like we’re both in luck tonight.”
Before I can ask what he means, a low, unmistakable rumble cuts through the air.
It’s deep. Vibrating. Alive.
I turn toward the sound just in time to see a motorcycle pull into the lot. Sleek. Black. Chrome catching the light. The rider cuts the engine, and the sudden silence rings in my ears.
