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Glancing around, she asked no one in particular, “Where’s our instructor?”
As if conjured by her question, a man stepped down the ramp sloping from the end of the trailer. He wore a black leather jacket and carried a stack of clipboards.
Cash.
CASH ENJOYED PENTA’S gob-smacked expression rather more than he suspected he should. It was a small payback for keeping him on tenterhooks for days. The longer he waited for her decision, the more he regretted his proposal. The delay obviously meant she was going to say no. He wished she’d get it over with.
While he was a certified motorcycle instructor, he didn’t offer classes through his own business. To keep his hand in, he occasionally helped out a buddy who did. Jesse had called him a few weeks ago.
"I got an odd request,” he had explained. “This woman asked if I could do a customized introductory course for her book club. Nothing official, just a casual demonstration-type thing. No one’s ever wanted anything like that before but I figured what the hell.”
Cash was sure he’d misheard. “Book club?”
“Yeah. She said something about not really being a book club anymore. I didn’t get into it. Who cares what they call themselves as long as they pay in advance. I’ll email you the list of students and waivers and other shit you need a couple days before.”
Which was when Cash had discovered Penta was one of the participants.
He jerked his chin in her direction but gave no indication they’d met. He had no idea how she’d choose to play this and would let her take the lead. Not everyone wanted to admit they knew a motorcycle-riding ex-con. If she pretended he was a stranger, that was fine.
Which was total bullshit. It would rip him up if she ignored him.
He scanned the group. “Helen?”
The grey-haired woman beamed at him, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “That’s me. You must be Cash.”
He checked the signup sheet. “I have seven students listed. We waiting for the rest?”
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”
He nodded. “Even though this is a modified class, Jesse wants all the usual paperwork filled out. Might as well get that started.” He handed out the clipboards he’d prepared, leaving Penta to the last.
She took hers with a wide-eyed gaze. “Why didn’t you mention you’d be our instructor?”
The fussily dressed man next to her slid them an interested glance. Cash ignored him. “I didn’t know. Only got the names yesterday morning.” If he’d told her, would she have come? Or would she have made an excuse to drop out.
“I see.” She unclipped the pen he’d hooked onto each clipboard and immediately dropped it.
He retrieved it and held it out to her. She took it gingerly, avoiding any contact.
“Excuse me. Can you explain something?” With relief, he turned to answer the dark-haired woman’s question.
The other two students—a tall, wide-shouldered woman with a confident stride and another woman with silvery-blond hair in a long pony tail—arrived. In the flurry of introductions, equipment explanations, and safety briefings, he had no further chance to talk with Penta privately.
He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.
PENTA’S SHOULDERS SLUMPED as Cash turned to Natalie, the twanging tension tightening her tendons releasing now his focus had shifted.
“Tell all to Uncle Terrance.” Her friend’s brows peaked inquisitively, eyes flashing with curiosity. “How do you know our hot instructor? And how come you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s a long story.” She stared at the form clipped to the board without taking in the printed words.
“He’s rather luscious, isn’t he?” Terrance kept his voice low. “I don’t usually go for the burly, bearded types. But there’s something about a dangerous man that...gets my motor revving, you might say.”
“What would Bennett say if he heard you?” Penta had intended the question to be a joke and was surprised at how sharp it sounded in her own ears.
All the fun fled his expression. “He wouldn’t care.”
The dullness in his tone erased the exasperation his comment had sparked. “What do you mean? Is everything okay with you two?”
