“I’m guessing this is the first time you’ve slept on the ground.”
“A lunch date on a picnic rug is as close as I’ve come to lying on the ground,” I reply. “And that’s usually on the grounds of the Ashworth Estate. Speaking of which, I should probably get back home.”
“Ready for the wrath of Daddy Dearest?” Dax jokes.
I suck in a breath and can’t help grinning. “He’ll think I was being reckless. I have no idea what he’ll do about it.”
Dax’s eyes narrow. “And you’re happy about this?”
I bite into my lip, knowing I shouldn’t be. “I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.”
Dax pats my knee and gets up. He holds out a hand, saying, “Okay, let’s get you home for the showdown of a lifetime.”
I stand with him, smooth down my dress, and wipe off excess dirt. Oh my gosh, if my parents saw me like this they’d be appalled.
Dax bundles up the gray blanket, and I remember it was mostly on me last night. “Did you wake up cold?”
Dax wipes his brow. “Actually, I was sweating.”
It takes me by surprise. “Oh.”
Dax places the blanket in the bike’s locker trunk and leaves it open for my purse. He then picks up the helmet and hands it to me with a devilishly gorgeous smile.
“So, when can I see you again?”
Before I take the helmet, I dig out my phone. “What’s your number?”
With a smile, he places the helmet on the motorcycle seat and pulls out his phone from his leather jacket’s pocket.
We swap phones to input our numbers, and I grimace. His phone screen is cracked, and the edges are smashed like it’s been dropped from a considerable height.
“Does this thing even work?” I ask.
Dax laughs. “Yeah, it does the job.”
“You know, I can replace this for you.”
Dax shakes his head. “Don’t bother. It’ll only get smashed like the others.”
I suck in a hesitant breath, and type my number into his phone. “Okay, here,” I say, returning the phone. I take mine from him and drop it back into my bag.
With my purse dumped back inside the bike’s locker, I climb on behind Dax with the helmet strapped on. Dax asks for directions to Ashworth Estate, and it’s hard work calling out turns over the motorcycle’s engine. My throat already feels rough and inflamed due to a night out in the cool air.
On the approach to my home, my stomach flips. My back stiffens, and an ache burrows between my eyebrows.
This is really happening. I spent all night out with a stranger, didn’t call home, and now I’m facing the consequences. Oh my gosh, how did I think this was a good idea?
The motorcycle slows down at the wrought-iron gates, and I lean across to the speaker monitor and press a button.
After a few moments, Murphy’s voice answers. “Ashworth Residence.”
“Hi, Murphy. It’s me, Vanessa. Can you let me in?”
“Certainly, miss,” he responds, and the gates open.
Dax whistles. “Sheesh. That was easy.”
“No, he works for me,” I reply, trying to hide my dread. “I’m sure he’s now alerting my father.”
