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I grin and accelerate.

This road trip is a terrible fucking idea.

By the time we hit the highway toward Phantom Ridge, Clara has stopped fighting the bike.

And me.

She leans when I lean. Tightens her arms on the curves. Every time I accelerate, her body presses harder against mine.

I’m painfully aware of every inch of her.

The woman made me sign rules yesterday.

No inappropriate touching.

Now her thighs are wrapped around me.

Life is funny.

We ride for nearly two hours before I pull into a roadside diner outside Millstone.

Clara climbs off and immediately wobbles.

I catch her waist.

“My legs feel weird.”

I look down at them.

“Don’t.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I was appreciating them.”

“That’s worse.”

I unfasten her helmet.

Her hair falls around her shoulders when I lift it away.

Her cheeks are pink from the cold.

“You okay?”

She smiles. A real one. “Can we do that again?”

Fuck me.

“Careful, librarian.”

“What?”

“You’re starting to sound like you had fun.”

“I did.”