Page 200 of Romeo

“Through the mountains. We’ve still got enough daylight.”

“I’ve never been on a bike before.”

His eyebrows rose. “Frank never took you for a ride?”

I shook my head and looked toward the machine again. Up close, it seemed even larger than I remembered, all chrome, black paint, and an engine powerful enough that I’d felt its vibration through the porch when he arrived.

“What if I fall off?”

Jasper smiled and stepped closer. “You’ll have your arms wrapped around me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He said it so easily that my nerves settled before I had a chance to argue with them. Maybe that was the dangerous part of Jasper. He could make almost anything sound manageable simply because he seemed so certain it would be.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He held out his hand, and I took it.

At the bike, he crouched beside one of the saddlebags and unzipped it. When he stood again, a black helmet with silver detailing rested between his hands.

I stared at it.

He hadn’t stopped at the clubhouse and grabbed whatever spare helmet happened to be available. He’d arrived at Granny’s house with one packed on his bike.

For me.

“Here.” He checked the inside before looking at me. “Can’t have you flying off into the mountains without protection.”

I reached for it, but my fingers fumbled against his. Jasper caught the helmet easily and steadied my hand with his other one.

“You okay?”

“You brought this for me?”

“Always planning ahead, Cher.”

His smile made the answer sound casual, but the helmet didn’t. He’d thought about putting me on the back of his bike before he ever sent the message telling me to be ready.

He lifted it slightly. “May I?”

I nodded.

Jasper eased the helmet over my head and worked the strap beneath my chin, his fingers surprisingly gentle against my skin. When his knuckles brushed my throat, my attention shifted completely away from the bike.

“Too tight?”

“No. It’s good.”

He tested the strap once, then stood there for a second longer as if inspecting his work. “There. Now you’re ready.”

Before I could decide what to make of the satisfaction in his expression, he turned toward the motorcycle and showed me where to put my feet.

“Keep them on the pegs. Don’t let your leg get near the exhaust because it’ll burn the hell out of you. When I lean into the curves, lean with me. Your instinct might be to straighten up, but don’t fight the bike.”

“I’m starting to think you left some important details out when you invited me.”