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“Coco!” Damon Redstone’s twin daughters barrel down the row. Damon slowly struts behind them. Each girl grabs one of Coco’s hands.
“We are going to eat before the magic show,” says the girl wearing a pink kitten costume.
“And eat dessert,” adds the girl wearing a ragged, stitched, and bloody dead doll costume. “They have graveyard pudding.”
“We don’t want to miss the graveyard pudding.” Damon wraps one arm around Coco, and his other hand squeezes his daughter's shoulder.
“Come on!” the little kitten pleads, pulling Coco’s hand.
“See you tomorrow, Bexley.” Coco waves. “And good luck with the trio. I hear you’re on their radar.”
I groan as I bend down and drive the peg into the ground. I haven’t seen Hattie, Birdie, or Trixie all day. Not that it means they haven’t been watching Johnny and me.
In the parking lot, Johnny pulls his bike up beside me. “Want to go for a ride?”
“I want to go for a shower.”
“It just so happens I know a special place for a dip in the water.”
“On this old thing?” I eye his Harley.
“She didn’t mean it, baby.” He runs his hand over the handlebars. He glances at me. “Don’t hurt her feelings. Emerald’s been with me everywhere.”
I laugh. “I’m not apologizing to a hunk of metal.”
He straightens. “I’m seriously reconsidering my invite.” A touch of insult drips off his words, but he holds out a helmet. “Get on before I change my mind.”
I chuckle and fasten the helmet on my head.
“And this.” He tosses me his leather jacket. I take a second to gaze over the worn leather and thick stitching. The last time I touched this jacket, he’d draped it over my naked body after our lovemaking.
“Everything okay?”
I nod and shrug into it. The oversized jacket swallows me. And I love every second.
I lift my left foot to the passenger mount peg, establish my balance, and then gently swing my right leg over the seat. I settle in. Wiggle around. Check my chin strap. I know the routine. But I’m not prepared for the rush of excitement that pulsates through my body. M
Our closeness.
His scent.
My legs split by the seat, pressing against him.
The whole thing has my insides liquefying.
His hands reach behind and grip my wrists. He guides them around his waist. He pats my hands. “Ready?”
“Yes.” I struggle past the lump in my throat to push out the single word.
The bike roars to life, and we hit the open road. Riding with Billie is always exhilarating, but riding with Johnny is something entirely different. My emotions are magnified.
Our bodies move fluidly together on the twists and turns of the country road. He drives differently now. Less aggressive and more relaxed. I wonder if it’s age or if he’s more at peace with this stage of his life. He’d been so angry back in the day. Angry at his dad. Angry at his mom for dying. Angry at the world. He lacks that anger now.
I don’t know how long we drive for. Or where. Or which direction. It’s not until he slows and turns into a hidden path that I pay attention to my surroundings. We’re in the country somewhere. Tall trees hide us from the road. Dusk is stealing the evening.
He cuts the engine and glances at me over his shoulder. “Ready for a little hike?”
“I guess.”
