He never flinched at thescar there. He kissed me like I was anyone else. Any normal man.
How could Inotfallin love with him?
“I would.” Quinn wiggled histoes. “You’ve got a horse and everything.”
“It’s a motorbike.”
He shrugged. “Same difference.I’ve decided to name to name it Blaze.”
“Her,” I corrected.
“Her,” Quinn repeated,grinning. “Her name’s Blaze.”
I snorted, moving again tokneel beside him, pressing a kiss just beneath his ear.
He could name my bike. I’d have to gethim his own helmet.
Definitely with flames onit, now that he’d picked outthatname.
“Blaze it is, then,” Iagreed.
I would have agreed toanything to see him smile like that.
NINETEEN
QUINN
The horizon was alreadystained violet by the time Fox led me out to his bike. The rumbling of theengine put pressure on still-tender places as we roared along open roads,ducking and weaving through traffic with such practiced ease that I couldn’t imagine everfeeling anything but safe.
Fox made me feel safe.
He made me feel a lot ofthings. A lot of things I’d never felt before.
I didn’t notice wherewe were headed until Fox stopped the bike and helped me take my helmet off. Thefirst thing I saw were the glittering lights of LA below and the Hollywood signacross the valley, set in the hills like a jewel in a crown.
The magic had worn off forme about three weeks into living here, and I never even noticed it looming overthe city anymore. But this was like seeing it for the first time again.
“First time in LA?” Foxteased.
I rolled my eyes, shoving myhands in my pockets. I’d noticed a picnic rug strapped to the luggage boxon the bike, so I had half an idea what we were doing here.
“First time being taken upto a lookout point to make out with a boy,” I responded. Fox and I had agreedto turn our phones off—more for my benefit than his, I suspected. Nointerruptions. I couldn’t worry about things if I didn’t know about them, andhe didn’t want me worrying.
He was the sweetest person I’d ever met.
“Bit presumptuous.” Foxbeamed at me. “I might just be taking you up here for the view. It’smyfirst time inLA, you know. Well, first time stopping.”
“Really?”
Fox seemed like such a manof the world. I knew he had less than handful of years on me, but he gave theimpression of being much older and wiser.
He’d seen awful things.
He’d probablydoneawful things.Things he wasn’tproud of, and things he was.
I knew that. I’d turned it overand looked at it from every angle, and the conclusion I kept coming back to wasthat it didn’t matter. He was the person he wasnow, and he’d been nothingbut good and kind to me.
“Really,” Fox said, grabbingthe picnic blanket and setting it up in what would have been the shade of atree if not for the fact that the sun was a half-circle on the horizon. Thefirst stars were starting to peek out of the inky-blue middle of the sky.
