What is wrong with me?
I grab my jean jacket and purse, and we make our way downstairs and outside. My eyes widen when I spot the Harley parked in front of the building. Dex steps up beside it, picks up a helmet, and offers it to me.
“Oh no.” I shake my head and start toward my car.
Suddenly, his arm wraps around my middle, stopping me, and his mouth brushes close to my ear as he leans in from behind. “You scared to ride a bike, Tinker?”
I turn, slipping out of his hold. “No. I’m wearing a dress, and I refuse to ruin my makeup on that thing.” I nod toward the Harley.
“If I promise I’ll go slow and that your makeup will still be perfect when we get there, will you give it a try?” His voice softens just slightly. “Please. I haven’t ridden in months, and I’m starting to lose my mind.”
I glance up at the cloudless sky, then back at him, and sigh. “Oh, okay,” I grumble, taking the helmet from his hands.
The smirk he gives me in return makes something flutter low in my stomach, and I hate how much I don’t mind it.
Dex swings his leg over the bike, puts his helmet on, and starts it. The engine rumbles to life, deep and powerful, vibrating through the ground beneath my feet. He turns toward me and reaches out his hand.
“I don’t know how…” I admit.
His voice comes through the helmet, clear now. “You’re good. Just swing your left leg over and sit, then hold on to me.”
He winks.
I roll my eyes. “If I fall, you’re buying me a new dress.”
His laugh crackles through the headset. “I’ll buy you ten if they all look like that.”
Heat rises to my cheeks as I climb on behind him, the reality of how close I’ll have to be hitting me all at once.
The fabric of my dress shifts against my legs as I settle onto the seat, brushing against the bike, and for a second I freeze, my hands hovering in the air, unsure where to go.
“Tinker,” he says, amusement threading through his voice, “you’ll want to hold on.”
I close my eyes for half a second before wrapping my arms around him.
Everything in me tightens.
He’s warm. Solid. Real in a way that makes my body go completely still for a second before my heartbeat kicks up, fast and uneven. The scent of cedarwood and sage wraps around me, and instead of pulling away, I find myself settling into it, my grip tightening just slightly.
“Hold on,” he murmurs.
And something about the way he says it sends a shiver down my spine.
He glances back over his shoulder. “You trust me?”
My fingers tighten against him, a flicker of hesitation catching in my chest before I answer.
“Yeah.”
I don’t know when that became true.
The bike surges forward, and the world shifts.
The wind hits first, cool and sharp, tugging at my dress, threading through my hair as we leave town behind us. The road stretches ahead, wide and open, and I find myself leaning into him just a little more as we pick up speed.
Not because I’m scared.
Because I don’t want to let go.
