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“Maybe,” I say, allowing the hint of a promise to linger between us.
“Jane,” Texas says, breaking the comfortable silence, “you don’t have to be on guard with me. I’m not one of those guys from inside.”
I let out a slow breath, feeling the shield around me falter just a bit. “I know,” I whisper, a smile finding its way to my lips despite my best efforts. “It’s just... hard to shake off, you know?”
“Understandable.” He nods. “But you’re safe with me.”
The space between Texas and me could be crossed in a half-step, but it feels like miles of uncharted territory. As we walk, I’m acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his side. It’s this invisible force, pulling me closer, daring me to bridge the gap. My heart thumps—a wild drumbeat against my ribs—echoing the silent yearning that strains through the inches separating us.
“Ever ridden before by yourself?” His voice tumbles into the space between us, wrapped in that low, rumbling tone that sets my nerves on edge—in the best possible way.
“Once,” I reply, watching the gravel crunch under my boots. “It was... exhilarating.”
“Ah.” He nods, the corner of his mouth ticking up. “There’s nothing quite like it.”
The anticipation coils inside me, a spring wound tight, ready to snap. With each step, I steel myself against the urge to lean into him.
We reach the spot where his motorcycle waits—a sleek beast bathed in moonlight.
“Here she is,” Texas says, pride lacing his words.
“Beautiful,” I breathe out, drawn to the machine as much as to the man beside it. There’s a freedom here, a whisper of flight captured in chrome and leather.
“Ready to take her for a spin?” His eyebrow arches, challenging, inviting.
“Let’s do it.”
He swings a leg over the bike, settling in with an ease born from years of practice. I follow suit, gripping the edges of the seat before looking up at him. Our eyes meet, and in that glance, there’s an understanding—an agreement that despite the tragedies etched into our lives, we’re willing to chase this fleeting joy together.
“Clutch onto me, Jane,” he instructs, a playful note dancing beneath the command.
I slide my arms around his waist, feeling the solid wall of his back against my chest. The engine purrs beneath us.
The world blurs past us, buildings becoming streaks of color and light. The wind whips through my hair, untethering the last of my reservations. I lean into Texas, our bodies moving as one with the rhythm of the road, every beat driving us further from what was and closer to what could be.
The engine’s rhythm syncs with my heartbeat, each pulse a drumbeat to our escape. Streetlights flicker past, their glow dimming against the vast expanse of open road. My fingers tighten around Texas, a lifeline anchoring me to the present, even as my mind races ahead to the unknown possibilities stretching out before us.
“Where are we heading?”
“Wherever the road takes us,” he shouts back.
My smile is a private affair, shared only with the night as the town recedes into memory. And with every mile we conquer, the space between us diminishes, until the magnetic pull of our growing attraction is as palpable as the leather beneath my fingertips.
As the town disappears behind us, so do the chains of yesterday, and beneath the vast dome of the night sky, there’s nothing but the open road and the whisper of what might be.
CHAPTER 9
JANE
The morning light spills over the streets like warm honey, and I can’t help but feel its gentle touch. My fingers are interlocked with Texas’, his grip firm yet tender. His leather jacket creaks softly with each step we take our stroll through my sleepy town.
“Smell that?” he asks, tilting his head towards the wafts of freshly baked bread teasing the air.
“Hard not to.” My stomach answers with a playful growl. “Lead the way, cowboy.”
He chuckles, a low rumble from deep within his chest, and guides me toward the source—a quaint bakery nestled between a florist and an antique shop. The storefront is painted a faded pastel blue.
“Get ready to have your taste buds charmed off,” he teases as we step inside.
