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I don’t know if I’m going to survive following them around, and I’m almost positive it’s a terrible idea as I climb astride and try to figure out how in the hell you turn this freaking thing on.
I can hear them introducing themselves and making small talk, but I do my best to block them out and concentrate on trying to figure out how to operate the machinery.
There are buttons and switches everywhere, and the key itself doesn’t seem to be achieving a full launch.
Let’s see. Maybe if I just… No, that’s not it. Hmm. Okay, this bobby thing looks like it, well, bobs. Hmm. Oh! I know. Maybe the throttle, like, wakes it up and—
“Having trouble?” Jake asks from my side, making me damn near jump out of my skin.
I put a hand to my chest and practice bringing my breathing back down to a normal level.
“Jesus. You’re like a ninja sometimes.”
“Quiet feet. Something else they teach you in the SEALs,” he explains. “Do you want me to help you get it started?”
“I was just about to get it,” I deflect, and he smirks down at me, his eyes calling me out on my bullshit.
“Uh-huh, I could tell.”
“But…I guess, since you’re here…” I pause and shrug one nonchalant shoulder. “You might as well go ahead and do it.”
“Yeah, of course,” he agrees, humoring me.
I watch as he squeezes the brake handle thingy and turns the key, and the four-wheeler fires right up.
“I really was close!” I say, even though I know there’s no way I ever would have figured out I had to hold the brake thing.
“I know you were,” he patronizes me.
I stick out my tongue, and he just laughs.
“Ready, then?”
“Not even close,” I say honestly, and his smile makes the lines at the sides of his eyes crinkle.
“I’ll go slow. Promise.”
“No,” I say with a wave. “Don’t hold back on my account. You guys have fun, and I’ll just…you know, report from wherever I can.”
“Holley, I’ll go slow.”
“I have a map,” I challenge. “It’s fine.”
“I’ll still go slow.”
I sigh as he turns and walks back to his own four-wheeler. Rachel is looking back at me with curious eyes, so I smile for her benefit.
Her attention finally leaves me as Jake returns and climbs in front of her. She leans forward and wraps her arms around him tight, resting her cheek on his back.
A wave of olfactory memory hits me at the sight. Man oh man, I bet he smells amazing from that close.
Shaking away the thought, I put my thumb to the throttle thingie on my four-wheeler and shoot forward to follow them. It’s tricky at first, and to say my ride is rough would be an understatement. Eventually, though, I start to get the hang of it, and with Jake going slow like he said he would, I’m able to keep up with them, no problem.
He points to things on the trail, and Rachel looks at each and every one of them with a smile, nodding into his back to affirm she heard him. She doesn’t loosen her grip at all, and I make a mental note to reference her obvious physical attraction for him in my article.
A sharp twist of my stomach makes me let off the throttle briefly.
Ugh. I probably shouldn’t have eaten those two donuts this morning.
They don’t usually bother me, but I’m also not normally vibrating the innards of my body atop a huge engine either, so who knows.
Jake and Rachel get a little farther down the trail after my brief stop, so I decide to take the opportunity to test out my ability to go a little faster while I catch up.
I mash down on the throttle, and I take off like a rocket. The wind feels invigorating in my hair as trees whip past me, and a thrill I’ve never felt before runs down my spine.
I laugh maniacally and push the throttle down even farther. Hell’s bells, this feels good! I can’t believe I’ve never done it before.
Rolling and raging, I don’t quite notice that the trail turns sharply ahead until I’m right on top of it.
I panic, trying to find the brake and missing completely as I shoot over the side of the trail and up into the woods without much finesse. It’s bumpy and thick, and I’m thrown up toward the handlebars violently. I shriek as the front of the four-wheeler comes to a bone-jarring stop against a small tree, and my whole body whiplashes back.
My thumb is still plastered to the throttle, and only then, sitting there spinning my tires in the mud, do I think to release it.
Holy shit!
Unexpectedly, gentle hands lift me up off the four-wheeler and spin me around. Jake is there, and his eyes look wild in a way I’ve never seen them before—like stormy Caribbean seas.
