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The burst of wind dies down, now only a ruffle through the trees. I scan the rolling green hills. We seem to be the only people here.
Suddenly, Emily tips to the side, arms flailing in the air. I hurry to steady her with a hand at her waist.
“Careful,” I warn.
Gingerly, she wiggles her foot and tugs the heel of her shoe out of the soft earth.
Against me, she’s warm and soft. Her head barely reaches my shoulder. She turns to peer up at me, the ends of her hair sliding over my leather cut. A hint of sugary vanilla tickles my nose.
“Stupid heels,” she murmurs, taking slower steps. “Dumb choice, I know.”
“You look nice.” The urge to slide my hand over hers strikes me and I release her as fast as I’d toss a lit match. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t the time or place for a hand-in-hand stroll. Even if it was, she’s not the woman I should be walking with.
“Thank you.”
My bike’s parked at the end of the row and she quickens her steps as it comes into view.
“How far away is your car?” I ask.
“Over there.” She points, and in the distance I make out a dark red sedan parked half on the grass, half on the gravel. The only other vehicle in the area. “Do you want to meet me?” She nods to my bike.
Thatwouldmake more sense, but she almost fell once. I scuff my boot against the hard-packed dirt and gravel path. Hate to see her twist an ankle on the uneven ground. And I’d ask Rock to strip my road captain patch if I let her ride on the back of my bike the way she’s dressed—even a short distance.
“No, I’ll come back and get it.”
“I really am sorry I interrupted you.” She ducks her head and powers forward.
“It’s fine. Cell service sucks out here.”
She lets out a nervous chuckle. “It does.”
As we approach the car, I catalog its details. It’s an older model but probably still not something I can easily repair. I carry a bare minimum of tools with me. Enough for a quick fix of my bike and that’s about it.
“Can you pop the hood?” I ask.
“Sure.” She dips inside the car and pulls the lever.
I prop the hood up and study the engine. Nothing obvious sticks out.
Something brushes against my side, and I glance down. Emily’s standing next to me, hands on her hips, staring at the car like she’s ready to roll up her sleeves and assist.
Cute.The corners of my mouth turn up.
“Is it terminal?” She peers up at me with wide, serious eyes. Are they green? Brown? Some sort of in-between?
Doesn’t matter.
“I’m not sure yet,” I reply. “Why don’t you try to turn it over for me, so I can see what it does.”
Her anxious gaze darts to the open driver’s-side door.
“You in a hurry?”
“I’m late for work,” she admits.
“I’d give you a ride”—I nod to her dress and heels— “but you can’t get on a motorcycle like that.”
She stares down at her dress and fists her hands in the material, swinging the long skirt around. “Why not? In the movies it would just flutter in the wind behind me.” She flaps her hands in the air to punctuate her sentence.
