Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“It’s a T-shirt.” I explain looking at the clothing as if an answer may just come out of thin air.
“It’s two T-shirts,” Looney corrects.
Moving back to my closet, I make a decision. I grab a shirt off a hanger and pull it over my head just to end the conversation. Dark charcoal henley this time, not black. Clean jeans. Boots. Sliding my cut on, I relax instantly under the weight of the leather.
Looney watches me button the collar once at the throat and shakes his head slowly. “You are going down hard, Brother.”
“Shut up.”
He lifts both hands. “I’m just saying, if you start talking about your feelings, I’m moving out of state.”
“I don’t have feelings.”
He snorts. “Sure, you don’t. And I’m a walking poster child for sanity.”
I grab my keys off the dresser and brush past him.
In the hall, he calls after me, “Don’t get arrested!”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Then it’s true love!”
I flip him off without looking back.
The bike’s already out front, cleaned this afternoon because that is a great test for the dipshits, aka prospects to do especially in the Alabama heat. I roll it down the drive and out toward Lucy’s place with the kind of tension under my ribs I haven’t felt in years.
Not before a run. Not before a fight. Something worse. Excitement for something new.
Lindsey’s SUV is already in Lucy’s driveway when I pull up. Good. Means Quinn’s covered like I arranged.
I kill the engine and sit there one second too long, hands on the bars, staring at the porch light washing warm gold across the steps. Her curtains are half-open. A shadow moves inside.
Then the front door opens. Lucy steps out. And every thought in my head clears clean out.
She’s wearing a pair of dark denim jeans with a deep green fitted shirt that makes her hair look even lighter, her skin soft and warm under the porch light. Ankle boots with a slight heel. Small earrings I probably shouldn’t notice but do. Her hair is braided, falling over one shoulder, and for half a second I forget how breathing works.
She catches me looking and stops at the top of the steps. I wanted to do the traditional walk to the door and shit, but she beat me to it coming out already.
“What?”
The question comes out almost shy, which doesn’t fit the smile touching her mouth.
I get off the bike and approach her. “You look beautiful.” No reason to bullshit it. She’s fucking show stopping.
Heat rises in her cheeks.
“Thank you.”
Lindsey appears in the doorway behind her, grinning like she’s just been handed front row seats.
“Quinn’s making slime,” she explains. “I’ve got everything handled. You two have fun.”
Lucy gives her a look. Lindsey ignores it entirely and looks at me instead. “Hurt her and I’ll tell the whole town your middle name.”
I blink. “Bostic.”
She laughs. “Good answer.”
Then she disappears back inside. Lucy exhales, embarrassed and amused all at once. “Sorry. She’s my only friend here and can be a bit overprotective.”
“Don’t be. Lindsey is Lindsey. She may be Nitro’s baby sister by blood, but she’s obnoxious in the best possible way to every brother in the club.”
I hand her the spare helmet I brought. Her eyes widen. “We’re taking the bike?”
“That was the plan.”
A beat. Then she looks at the bike. Then at me. Then back at the bike. “Okay, I’ve never done this before,” she admits. The answer comes a little too fast, a little too brave.
I step closer, not crowding her. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can go get my SUV.”
“No, I want to,” she replies quickly. “I just haven’t done this before and I don’t want to mess up.”
I glance from her to the bike and back. “You trust me?”
Her eyes hold mine. In this moment, the question meant to be innocent and simple suddenly feels heavy, complicated, but also necessary. “Yes.”
The word lands hard. I keep my voice even. “Then, I’ll take it easy.” I tease to lighten the tension.
She nods once. I help her with the helmet, fingers brushing the soft skin near her jaw as I fasten it. She goes very still for a second, and if I had any brains at all I wouldn’t notice.
I definitely notice.
Then I swing a leg over the bike and hold it steady while she climbs on behind me. The first touch of her hands at my waist is tentative. Light.
“Hold tighter,” I tell her over my shoulder.
Her fingers flex. “Like this?”
“More.” She leans in embracing me.
The feel of her pressed against my back nearly has me rethinking every decision I’ve ever made. I start the bike. She jumps a little at the rumble.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” she replies, which means maybe.
So I ease us onto the road slow and smooth, taking the long way toward the coast. No sudden acceleration. No sharp turns. Just warm wind, fading evening light, and the very careful awareness of Lucy wrapped around me.