Page 59 of Cruz

“Are you sure? I don’t have to let guilt eat me up about it?”

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t lie about it.”

“I know. You don’t lie often. That’s part of what makes you so unique. You don’t find the need to be all shut down and cagey. It’s not what I expected from someone with a combat background. Weren’t there… things you saw that stuck with you?”

“Sure. They’re still there.” He demolishes a taco, letting that linger, but it doesn’t hit the same way that it would have if he hadn’t dealt with it. The atmosphere is somber, but he finds the words to say what he needs to get out.

“I’ve tried to let them go, but it’s a long road. There’s stuff all the way from my childhood that I’m still hanging onto, good and bad. It’s human nature, I think. Sometimes I find just doing something physical helps. Whether it’s riding or working in the shop. Anything where you kind of switch off the thinking part of your brain, and instinct, muscle memory, and learning takes over, and you let go. You’re focusing on the open road and riding safe. Everything else takes a back seat. That way all the worries and shit just flow out.”

“I love how you described that.” I finish the rest of the first taco, but sit back and wait for the second. “I have a let it flow, let it go method as well.”

“I might need to go on a word hiatus. I could have just said that there’s no point in creating a monster to protect yourself when you have to end up protecting yourself from that monster.”

“That’s also very true.”

Cruz takes a mouthful of his drink and I can’t help but watch as he swallows. There’s something about the action that sends heat straight between my legs. He’s not dressed any differently than he normally is, in a t-shirt, worn in jeans, and his leather vest, but every time I see him, he’s even more delicious. I notice all the details again… how his t-shirt stretches just right over his pecs and massive biceps, the veins running down his arms, and when he walked in, of course I noticed how his jeans fit his muscular legs to perfection. The way he looks straddling his bike.

Bikes.

My mind goes back to what he just said earlier. “About riding. Liam told me he’s planning on getting a bike.”

Cruz looks up, his gray eyes meeting mine. There’s no surprise there, though I guess it’s something he knew already. “It kind of goes with the territory,” he says softly. He must see something in my expression because he quickly adds, “I’m not being facetious. Just… Yeah… I know that probably worries you.”

“How can I not be worried? You hear about accidents… What do medics call them? Donorcycles? He’d literally be on a piece of metal unprotected and at the mercy of all the cars.” I stop myself before I start sounding hysterical.

“There’s always risks in life. We don’t all ride because we have a death wish. Some of us love life. Maybe when the weather improves you might want to take a ride with me and experience it for yourself?” he pauses, then says, “Only if you want. If you hate the idea of being on a bike I totally understand. But trust me on this, Liam is a good kid. He’s sensible. He’s not gonna take chances, and he’s gonna be as safe as he can be.”

“I guess,” I say, sounding more convinced than I feel.

Part of me is likely always going to freak out a little bit when it comes to thinking about getting on a bike, or Liam getting on one, but this is one of those things that I need to make my peace with. Will I always worry about the people I love no matter what they’re doing? Yes. Will I choose to remind myself that Liam won’t get on a bike until he knows what he’s doing, and he’ll be careful? Also yes. I know that he won’t risk his life being reckless, and that the guys at the club will take care of him and train him well. At least, I hope so. I’m more than willing to believe that based on how Liam and I have been treated so far, regarded as part of their big biker extended family, worried over and protected at every turn.

“Do you think that Liam will give me some say in what he gets when he eventually gets a bike?” Eventually, hopefully being some years away.

Cruz inclines his head. “Absolutely.”

“I hope that you’ll be able to educate me. I don’t know a good bike from a hole in the ground.”

“I think you’d do just fine picking that out. A hole in the ground is fairly obvious.”

I grin around a bite of the second taco. This one is chicken and the seasoning on it is divine. “The best bike is one that’s safe. Is there such a thing?”

“Most guys will tell you that the loud ones are safest because they let everyone on the road know that you’re around.”

“Is that wrong?”

“It’s not entirely incorrect, but safety features should count for something. Riding with a buddy or in a pack until you’re comfortable on the road isn’t the worst thing.”

“Will the guys help Liam pick a bike?”

Cruz is certain about that, I can tell. “They will.” He starts on another taco too. He’s downed three already. We might not have leftovers after all.

“If you could be anything, what would you be?” I want to put a silly question out there, to lighten the mood a little, and alleviate some of my potential worries. It’s easy to put them away and dig them out when the time comes.

“A cat.” Cruz turns and looks at Prissy in her little nest she’s made from the blanket. His whole face softens. Yeah. This man is a great one.

“What about you?”

“I like what I am, but if we’re talking anything, I could be swayed into becoming a blue whale for a day. I think that would be incredible.”