She shifts her gaze to Callie at the front desk. “Oh, that’s … interesting. Well, let’s get you fitted for a bike and helmet.”
I adjust my shorts. They hide nothing in the front and make me look like I’m wearing a soggy diaper in the back because they’re too big.
“Thanks, Tim,” June says to the guy helping the family of four. “I’ll take it from here. Sorry I’m a little late. My roommate lost her car keys and was crashing out.”
I tear my gaze from her as Callie hands me a tablet to sign away my life for the bike tour. After I give it back to her, June nods for me to step closer, giving me a helmet. I put it on, and her fingers graze my neck as she adjusts the strap. My dick had better not get any ideas about an erection in these goddamn bike shorts. Just in case, I rest my folded hands over my junk and think of Rupert’s naked backside covered in hair and a ridiculous number of moles. Anything to discourage my boner.
“How’s the muse job going today?” she asks. Her brown eyes flit from the strap to my face. Her voice is soft, like she’s intentionally trying to keep everyone else from hearing her.
“Look at me. Who wouldn’t be inspired by this?” I mumble.
She giggles. “How does that feel?”
I know she’s talking about the helmet and the strap, but all I feel is warmth and a shit-eating-grin level of happiness just being close to her. “Fine,” I say in a raspy voice before clearing my throat.
“Have you been on an e-bike before?”
“No.”
“Okay. Then go stand over there by those two kids, and I’ll walk you through it after I get your boss fitted with her helmet.”
“You really take bike tours seriously, huh?” the adolescent boy says to me.
I bite back thefuck youand opt for a screw-you smile instead. His older sister elbows him, as she should.
“Nice to see you again. We didn’t get to formally meet at the gallery. I’m June.” She shakes Callie’s hand.
“It’s my pleasure. I’m Callie.”
As my shitty luck would have it, Callie has been on an e-bike, so it’s just me and the two kids getting trained. After we pass the quick test, June leads the group across the street to the bike lane. The family stays in front with June, followed by Callie and me bringing up the rear. What’s the point of this?
We stop at various buildings, parks, and monuments for June to rattle off her prepared speeches on things like the history of mining and logging, a mill explosion, and the story of a bridge collapsing. At some point she mentions Paul Bunyan and an ox. She teaches me more history than I learned in school. Everything she says fascinates me because she’s the one saying it.
“This is my favorite stop for spotting wildlife,” she says when we take a break along the trail in the middle of a park. “Last week, I saw an American woodcock doing its mating dance over there and a beaver by the water.”
I snort.
Everyone shifts their attention to me, so I clear my throat. “Sorry. I think a bug flew into my mouth.”
Callie nods as if I’m telling the truth, and the family just as quickly returns their attention to our trusted tour guide. But June keeps looking at me through narrowed eyes. Come on, woodcock is funny. And the fact that it does a mating dance is even funnier. Right?
“Let’s take a fifteen-minute break. Now’s a great time to use the restrooms over there if anyone needs to,” June announces, wiping the sweat from her brow.
It was only supposed to get into the 80s today, but it feels much hotter.
Callie and the family of four remove their helmets and head to the restrooms. June takes a drink, then plucks a protein bar from her crossbody bag.
“You and Callie look cute today in your matching outfits,” she says before biting into her bar.
I rarely calculate my responses to things. That’s probably one reason I’ve spent time in prison. But I like this girl so much, it's hard not to carefully weigh my words, hoping they’re the right ones to impress her.
“It was my idea,” I say with a shrug.
June covers her mouth while she laughs mid-chew. Is sarcasm her love language? God, I hope so.
“But this tour was her idea?” she asks.
I nod, removing my helmet and running my fingers through my sweaty hair. “Sure was.”
