I rub the sleep from my eyes and pad across the room to the kitchen, the scent of food and coffee luring me to where she stands with a spatula in hand, looking too damn good in my shirt.
“Thought I’d make you breakfast. Hope you don’t mind. I helped myself to some coffee.”
“You can help yourself to anything in this kitchen,” I tell her, a low rumble in my chest that sounds rougher than I intend.
I can’t help but picture her like this every morning, making herself useful, bringingA sweet smile, awake and a little sly, curls across her face. “It’s mostly yogurt and beer.”
I open the fridge and snap up a container, wagging it at her. “That’s what a real man eats for breakfast.”She plunks a few eggs in the pan, and damn if it doesn’t do something primal in me, watching her so at home. Like she’s always been here. Like she belongs here. “I see you’re a fan of the bodybuilder diet.”
“Every day is leg day. Gotta keep up.”
Her laughter floats through the air, soft and bright, and it makes me want to do something reckless. Like pin her against the counter and slide my hands up the backs of her thighs. I clear my throat. “So, what should we do today?”
“You tell me. Do you have to work?”
“They can manage without me.”
“You sure? I don’t want to interrupt your life.”
“Yeah. How about I take you for a ride on my bike?”
Her face pales.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle. At least I don’t think I have.”
“It’s easy, sweetness. I’ll take good care of you. All you have to do is hold on tight. Wrap your arms around me and lean into the turns. You don’t have to do anything else.”
She’s gripping the spatula a little too hard, and I see how my suggestion rattled her.“What if I fall off? Or what if I cause you to wreck?”
“Not gonna let you fall. There’s nothing to worry about. Promise.”
She finishes the eggs, puts everything on two plates, and joins me at the kitchen counter. I eat most of the bacon before she’s even sat down. She pushes some eggs around with her fork, then finally asks, “Was it scary for you the first time?”
“Damn skippy, it was. My old man got me on a dirt bike before I could even ride a bicycle without the training wheels. Launched myself into a ditch. Busted my teeth and split my chin open. My mother screamed and cried. You’d think I’d died.”
“I’m not sure that’s helping plead your case.”
“Babe.” I take a sip of coffee and watch her dip her toast in the egg yolk. “Going to get dressed.”
I leave her to finish eating and change clothes. I grab a spare helmet out of my closet and a jacket for her that is probably way too big. Lacey looks to be about the same size as my sisterCandyce. She’s probably got plenty of shit she doesn’t wear. We can swing by her place.
Chapter Six
Lacey
I do as Kevlar told me and wrap my arms around his waist. I’m terrified yet excited. When he kicks the bike to life, adrenaline pops like champagne bubbles in my veins. He glances back once, making sure I’m secure, and I nod, even as my pulse hammers everywhere.
We speed away from his apartment. It’s early, the sky bruised with purple, gold, and the flat blue of nowhere. The air is warm and salty as we roar past hotels, condos, tiki bars, and battered surf shops that look like they’ve survived more hurricanes than is statistically possible.
There are moments when riding with him feels like flying—like freedom, but there are also seconds where a turn or a jolt makes an unwanted memory flicker at the edge of my vision, a flash of faces and noise I almost recognize.
But there’s a fuzzy haze, and a fear connected to it.
Kevlar rides with the confidence of an experienced rider. Sometimes he reaches back and pats my thigh.
Part of me never wants this to end, but eventually we slow and turn down a neighborhood, coming to a stop at a house with an SUV in the driveway and a motorcycle parked out front.
