5
Morgan
Morgan smoothed her hands down the front of her black dress for the seventh time in as many minutes, studying her reflection with a critical eye. Too dressy? Not dressy enough? Impossible to say when she didn’t know where they were going.
A laugh bubbled up in her throat. She was getting ready for dinner with a man whose face she’d never seen, whose real name she didn’t know, and whose voice she’d only heard modulated through a helmet. This was either the beginning of a romantic adventure or a cautionary tale Tessa would tell at her funeral.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she told her reflection, reaching for her lipstick. “It’s a thank-you dinner, not a date.”
Her phone chimed with a text, and her stomach flipped with anticipation.
Corner of Hadley and 8th. 7:30.
No restaurant name. Just an intersection.
Before she could respond, another text arrived.
Weird request. Would you be comfortable maintaining anonymity? It’s... complicated.
Morgan stared at the message, a smile slowly spreading across her face. As much as she wanted to know who her masked hero was, the idea was appealing.
He wanted to keep the mystery going. She found herself oddly charmed by the idea—and maybe a little relieved. After all, she’d just ended things with Jason. This wasn’t the time to start something new. Perhaps an anonymous dinner was exactly what she needed—all the intrigue without the complications of a real connection.
I’m actually ok with that. I like not knowing. Makes this less... whatever this is. I’m in.
His response was immediate:Perfect.
She bit her lip, then added:How exactly does one eat with a helmet on?
The three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared.I have a plan. Trust me?
Those two words sent a shiver down her spine. Trust him? She barely knew him. Yet some instinct told her she could.
I trust you. See you at 7:30.
Her dad had managed a sales team while he was alive, and one of the things he had drilled into her was ‘trust but verify’ and meeting a strange man on the corner of a street without letting anyone know where she was headed was potential suicide.
She shot off a text to Tessa:I’m meeting Motorcycle Man for dinner tonight at the corner of Hadley and 8th.
Tessa’s response was quick:If you need me to fake an emergency, just let me know. And if I don’t hear back from you by midnight, I’ll send the cavalry.
Satisfied, Morgan set her phone down and returned to her makeup, applying a deep red lipstick with more care than usual. If they were going to play this game of mutual anonymity, she might as well embrace the intrigue, but she wasn’t an idiot.
As she left her apartment, the new locks clicked satisfyingly behind her. The security bar Kane had installed added an extra layer of protection that made her shoulders relax. One less thing to worry about.
Morgan drove to the intersection, arriving at the corner of Hadley and 8th a few minutes early. She parked her car in a small lot nearby and scanned the area, looking for a man in black leather and a helmet. Instead, she spotted a sleek black motorcycle parked alone, outside what appeared to be a closed boutique. On the seat was a single white rose, and as she got closer, she noticed a note attached.
Follow the alley beside the boutique. - B
Morgan’s eyes darted around the empty evening street as she brought the bloom up to deeply inhale it’s aroma, half-expecting to find herself on a hidden camera show.
The thoughtful and unexpected gift made her smile. She tucked the note into her purse and headed down the alley, carefully twisting the rose stem between her fingers, careful to avoid the thorns.
Fairy lights strung overhead illuminated a path to a small courtyard hidden between buildings. In the center stood a small square table, beautifully set with a gold tablecloth and candles. A privacy screen had been erected around the space, transforming what should have been an ordinary alley into something magical.
And there he was—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted black button-down rather than his riding gear from the evening before, but still wearing theblack helmet that concealed his identity. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and even without seeing his face, she could feel his eyes on her, even behind the dark visor.
“I was starting to think this might be an elaborate scheme to steal my kidney,” she said, stepping into the enchanting space.
