I can’t help but appreciate the way his jaw works as he chews, the way his throat moves when he swallows.
God, he’s a sexy bastard.
I’m still not sure what’s happening between us. One amazing night together, and suddenly I can’t stop thinking about him, which is totally freaking stupid. He’s leaving in a couple of days, heading back to St. Louis.
And I’ll be... well, I don’t know where I’ll be. Away from Jacksonville, that’s all I know for sure.
“How’s your shake?” Rambler lifts his glass and sucks the yummy goodness through his straw.
I pick up my own glass and take a long pull. “Mmm… Orgasmic.”
Rambler almost chokes on the bite of french fry he just took.
“Jesus, woman.” He coughs some more.
Klutch pats hard on his back. “Quit being dramatic.”
Rambler’s brows hit his hairline. “Dude. I saw my life flash behind my eyes.”
I can feel my cheeks getting warm.
“But did you die?” Klutch counters.
“Fuck off.”
This is so embarrassing. Everyone is staring at us. “I’m so sorry.”
Cleo reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.“Ignore them, babe. They’re like children.”
Rambler pulls out his wallet when Martha returns with our ticket. “Gimme’ hers.”
“Uhh, no, sir!” I grab for my bill, but he lifts it out of my reach. “I can pay for my own food, Rambler.”
“I know you can, baby. But you’re with me, and I take care of what’s mine.” His eyes hold mine, determined to have his way.“Don’t fight me on this, butterfly.”
I bite my lip, then nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
After paying the bill, we all slide out of the booth and head back to the bikes across the street. Rambler climbs on first while I put on my helmet. Once the strap is fastened under my chin, he offers me his hand, and I climb on behind him.
“Hold on tight, butterfly.” I nod and wrap my arms around his waist, loving the feel of his solid body against mine.
Rambler starts up his bike, and one by one we fall in line behind Chief and Morpheus.
The next hour passes in a blur of winding roads and ocean views. By the time we reach the outskirts of Daytona Beach for our fifth card, I’m feeling completely relaxed and happier than I’ve been in a long time.
Rambler follows the line of bikes down the strip to the Sippin’ Sissy Roadhouse, a famous biker bar where the next checkpoint is set up.
“Almost there, babe.” Rambler’s voice crackles through the Bluetooth in my helmet.
“I’m okay.” I give his middle a little squeeze.
He pulls into the parking lot and takes the spot next to Morpheus.
Killing the engine, he pulls off his helmet and climbs off first. “Here, butterfly.” He holds out his hand.
I take it gratefully, my legs a little wobbly after being on the bike for so long. Then, pulling off my helmet, I shake out my pink hair. “Ugh, I bet I look like a hot mess express.”
Rambler’s eyes soften as they trail over my face. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”
