With a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out into the fall air just as Jack reached the porch.
“Hey,” I said. I could hear the tremble in my voice and hoped he didn’t notice.
“Hey.” He smiled. “You ready?”
“Yep. Yes. I’m ready.”
His grin widened. “Okay, then.”
I followed Jack to the bike, where he unstrapped a second helmet and passed it over to me. “I thought we could ride northto Thompson Ridge and stop for lunch at the Rhododendron Inn up that way. Sound good?”
My gaze drifted from the motorcycle back to Jack. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
His hazel eyes searched my face before he said, “You okay? You seem more nervous now than when you rode with me the first time.”
I let out a small, slightly hysterical laugh. Yeah, well, I happened to be in the middle of a public meltdown that first go-around, and now, well, I’d had plenty of time to freak out in advance. “I was a little distracted that night.”
Jack raised a brow and took a step closer, bringing with him the scent of leather and a spike of awareness. “Oh, do you need me to distract you?”
The sound of my swallow was loud. I had no idea what to say or how to flirt with this man. I was so far off my game here that I didn’t know how?—
Jack laughed a little and plucked the helmet out of my hands before smoothing my hair back and wiggling it into place on my head. He raised the visor and met my gaze, his amusement settling into something fond and reassuring. “It’s okay to be a little scared.”
Then he held out his hand.
I took it just as easily as I had the first time, a sense of safety and comfort soothing the nervous energy inside me.
A moment later, I was settled behind him, wrapping my arms around his firm middle as he started the motorcycle and backed us carefully out of the driveway.
Then we were off, the sound of the rushing wind drowning out my busy mind. I took a deep breath of fresh mountain air, feeling my lungs expand and my heart pound out a steady rhythm against Jack’s solid back.
There was more to see in the light of day. And it was gorgeous to behold. Mild weather, blue skies, and the sun shining brilliantly overhead. The leaves were just starting to change, golds and reds tipping the higher elevations as the mountains formed layer after endless layer in the distance.
I loved my home and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. There were times in the last few months when it had felt like a prison, too small and too confining for what I’d been going through. But out here, where I could catch my breath and see for miles, it was easier to remember why I loved it so much.
We rode for a time, and just when my body was getting a little sore from holding one position for so long, Jack signaled and turned onto a long paved drive that wound back up the mountainside. We passed beneath a canopy of trees and into a gravel parking lot.
We left the helmets with the bike and climbed the stairs to a small overlook on the front of the building. I’d always wanted to visit the Rhododendron Inn. It seemed silly now. Only forty-five minutes from my house, and I’d never made the time for it.
The inn boasted two levels of quaint, themed mountain-view rooms on the hillside just above the parkway. In May and June, the rhododendrons covering the valley below bloomed bright and bold, drawing tourists from all over. The inn also housed a restaurant that was open to the public.
It looked like we were early enough today to have our pick of seating on the covered porch. Jack and I got settled at a table near the railing as a server dropped off menus and glasses of water.
“It’s so gorgeous here,” I breathed, gaze focused on the view before us.
“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s a nice spot.”
“I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else,” I admitted, turning to face him. “I know some people probably think that’s weird, but I just can’t imagine moving away.”
“Where did you go to college?” Jack wondered. “Did you stay local?”
“Not far. East Tennessee State.”
“That’s a pretty drive, too,” he offered.
I smiled. “Yeah, it is. Did you always live in Kirby Falls?” Then I felt my stomach drop. I couldn’t believe I’d asked that. It was intrusive and horribly nosy. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? You don’t have to answer that.”
Jack chuckled. “You can ask me questions, Clyde. I don’t bite.” But his eyes sparkled with a hint of challenge, and I thought he might give me a little nibble if I asked nicely. “I’ve lived here most of my life. Took a few years and traveled, went to school.”
