“And possibly eaten the candy bar,” Theo adds. We share a quiet, genuine chuckle that seems to vibrate in the small space between us.
He studies the floor, then looks back at me. “I truly appreciate the chocolate. I’ve had a remarkable string of good mornings lately. Now I know who to thank.”
My pulse hitches. The idea thatIwas the reason for his improved mood—that my secret coffee runs were the highlight of his day—makes my face feel dangerously hot.
“You’re welcome. And while we’re at it...” I break the chocolate bar in half and hand him a piece. “Here. I can’t have you fainting on me either.”
He takes it, fingers brushing mine. “For the record,” he says, snapping off a square, “I don’t faint.”
“Everyone faints if they forget to eat,” I reply, tucking the wrapper into my bag. “It’s biology, not a personal failing.”
“That sounds like an answer I’d give.”
I shrug as we step outside. It’s nearly six, but the air is still thick and sticky. “So, um... how do you want to do this? Are we taking a company car? Or should I meet you wherever we’re going?”
Theo veers toward the far corner of the lot and stops beside his gleaming black motorcycle, the chromeflashing in the fading light. He pats the seat. “No Honda tonight. We’re taking the bike.”
Is he joking?
I watch as he lifts a spare helmet from the saddlebag and holds it out. His eyes aren’t just calm. They’re dancing with a rare, boyish challenge.
So no. He isn’t joking. He actually expects me to climb onto the back of that thing.
I don’t have anythingagainstmotorcycles, in theory. If you enjoy the wind whipping through your hair and flirting with adrenaline, more power to you. But I’ve seen one too many near-misses like cars cutting riders off and people weaving through traffic like they’re invincible to ever feel comfortable on one myself.
“No thanks,” I say quickly. “I’ll drive myself. I’ll meet you wherever we’re going.”
Theo rests the helmet against his hip. “You could. But it’s Saturday night. The I-4 is probably already a parking lot, and finding parking near the restaurant will be a nightmare.”
Nope. That argument still isn’t convincing enough. “That’s what my maps app is for,” I counter.
“Your app won’t magic away traffic,” he says calmly. “Dinner’s twenty minutes on the bike. In a car? Closer to an hour, given the construction on the bypass.”
My stomach chooses that exact moment to betray me with a low, audible growl.
You traitor,I think, mentally scolding my own midsection.
I grimace, looking everywhere but at Theo. “I don’t do motorcycles. I’ll just grab something nearby from Original Jorge’s or Mamma Lina’s.”
I glance across the street. Both places have lines snakingout the door. Jorge’s is shorter, but I’m not in the mood for bar food. Mamma Lina’s is easily an hour or more wait.
“Or I’ll just hit the supermarket,” I mutter, the image of a sad, plastic-wrapped grocery-store sandwich becoming a depressing reality.
“Minami,” Theo says, gentler now. “What’s really putting you off?”
I hesitate, then admit, “Motorcycles aren’t like cars. They’re harder to see. One distracted driver and?—”
He exhales once. “I wouldn’t suggest it—especially to you—if I didn’t think it was safe. I ride defensively. I don’t lane-split or pull stunts.” His gaze holds mine. “You know me. I don’t cut corners on safety.” He holds the helmet out again. “Do you trust me?”
Her Imperial Highness, Kaori, the Princess Sorahino of Japan, doesn’t do anything ostentatious like climb onto the back of motorcycles. She dresses in muted, conservative suits and rides around in chauffeured cars with tinted windows, or on a train with her protection officers.
But I’m not in Japan. I’m in America. I’m not wearing my Princess Sorahino persona right now. I’m Kaori Minami, the junior engineer who is beyond starving.
“Okay,” I say before I can process what a terrible idea this is.
Theo nods once. “Good. Hold on tight and keep your feet in when we pull away. I’ll handle the rest.”
Before I can respond, he drapes his heavy leather jacket over my shoulders. The weight of it is immediate, smelling of sea salt and old wood.
