This is exactly what I asked for. Exactly what he promised. Something that would make my family clutch their pearls, documented thoroughly for posterity. The truth is, I don’t care about proof anymore. I’m having way too much fun.
Slade took his time with showing me the basics. Throttle, brake, weight distribution on turns. He positioned my hands on the handlebar himself, adjusting my grip, making sure it was right before he let go. Showed me the brake twice.
“If you’re unsure about anything—” he starts.
“I’ll stop,” I say.
“You’ll stop,” he agrees. He looks at me for a moment, helmet in hand. “We don’t have to go fast.”
“I want to go fast.”
“Now who’s the speed demon?” he teases. But his gaze turns sober right after. “These are serious machines, baby. I want you to be safe.”
He’s got his hand resting on one denim-clad thigh of mine, those green eyes dark and tender. I pull him in by his jacket lapel for a kiss, savoring the taste of mint on his breath. “I’m not gonna make you a widower, either. I promise.”
His hands cup my cheeks and he pulls me in for a longer kiss. There’s something different about this one, not just hunger in it but something deeper, something searching and vulnerable.
When we pull back, his eyes roam over me, dark and serious. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”
I run my fingertips along his stubbled jaw. He’s looking at me with those green eyes and I can see it there, the thing he doesn’t say. The thing he’s been carrying since his mother died, the part of him that knows exactly how much it hurts to lose someone you love and has been trying not to love anything too much ever since.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” I reassure him. “You’ve shown me how to do everything. How to be safe.” Knowing he could use a little mood-lightening at this moment, I drop my voice into a sultry register and bat my eyelashes at him. “Stern Daddy Slade is a very good instructor and I promise, I’ll be a very good girl.”
Something shifts in his expression. The tension breaks.
“Is that right,” he murmurs.
“Mm.” I trail one finger down his jaw to his throat, feel his pulse jump under my fingertip. “I’ll be so good for you.”
I’m straddling the ATV and he steps in close between my knees and cups the back of my head in his hand as he kisses me again. His mouth is warm and certain and tastes like mint and coffee.
I grab his jacket with both fists and kiss him back. His free hand finds my thigh, warm and heavy through the denim, and his teeth catch my lower lip and I gasp against his mouth and grip his jacket tighter.
I pull back.
“Let’s ride, cowboy.” I smooth his jacket lapels with both palms, mostly to give my hands something to do. “Or we’re never making it past the front yard.”
He shakes his head slowly, that almost-smile still there, and picks up my helmet from the seat beside me. He puts it on me himself, intent and careful as he adjusts the chin strap, his fingers brushing my jaw when he’s done.
“Too tight?” he asks.
“Perfect,” I say.
Then he swings his leg over his machine with the easy grace of a man who has been doing this for decades.
“Stay close,” he says.
“Always,” I say.
And I mean it more than he knows.
“Try to keep up,” I add, with a saucy smile.
In return, I get a smile from him. Brief and bright and mine. Or at least that’s how I’ve started thinking of them. Slade doesn’t really smile for anyone else, and those smiles are still rare, but I’m pretty sure they’re becoming more frequent. And I’m the only one who pulls them out of him.
We ride side by side, which means I get to watch him in my peripheral vision the whole time. He’s easy and relaxed on the throttle, completely at home. Occasionally he catches my eye and points at something worth seeing:two foals cantering around each other playfully, a bald eagle soaring on a thermal above us, an elk with majestic antlers drinking water from the the creek in the far distance.
I look where he points and try to absorb all of it. There’s beauty in every season at Wild Rose, including in the way one shifts to another. We’re at the moment where autumn is frosting slowly into winter, and the stark beauty of the landscape is breathtaking. The gold leaves are still clinging to the cottonwoods, the mountains now heavy with snow in the background.
