***
By sunset I’m jamming my boot down on the kickstand of my new black and silver BMW K 1300S. Sweetest ride I’ve ever bought. Its dynamic performance sold me within the first few feet of the tires hitting the pavement—she can move. As twilight teases the horizon, I toss my leg over the side and step back to admire the beauty of the incredible machine that’s now mine—on credit, but I own it nonetheless. When I glance up, I see someone’s red hair blowing in the wind. There’s no mistaking her—S’belle. I stay frozen in place and observe her standing on the sidewalk. She pulls her phone away from her ear and kicks the flat tire of her car with her high heel.
Next she goes to the passenger door and bends down, peeking into the window of the white Cabriolet. She looks like she could use some assistance.
With my helmet in my hand I approach her. “Need some help?”
Her eyes dart to mine and her mouth forms a frown. “No, I’m good.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t look that way.”
Her phone rings and her eyes cut to the pocket she tucked it into and so do mine. I can’t help but notice the way her tight jeans hug her hips and thighs. She doesn’t even pull it out.
I raise a brow. “Not going to answer that? What if that’s your automotive assistance?”
“It’s my boss. I’m supposed to be at the wedding venue in thirty minutes.”
“So did you call Triple A?”
“No, I don’t have Triple A,” she hisses. “I’ve always called my brothers but neither is in town and my mother and stepfather are gone as well.”
I tap her trunk. “So pop this baby and I’ll change the tire for you.”
“I’m not completely helpless. I would have done that already but I locked my keys in the car. I’ve spent the last thirty minutes trying to figure out where I left them and there they are.” She points in the window.
I peer inside. The keys are dangling from the ignition. “Can’t help you there. Left my lock-pick kit at home.” She rolls her eyes. “Do you have a second set of keys?”
“Not on me,” she barks, and I try not to laugh. I could be offended that she seems to hate me so much but, honestly, something about her fiery attitude makes me yearn to see more of it. I try to control my grin by swiping my hand across my mouth. “I mean at home.”
Her brows scrunch together. “Of course I do, but that doesn’t help me now, does it?”
What I’m feeling is an overwhelming urge to spank her for being such a smart-ass but instead I hand her my helmet. “Here put this on.”
Her hands fly to her hips and she bites her bottom lip as if contemplating her fate. When her phone rings again, she glances at her wrist but she’s not wearing a watch. “Just get on,” I order. “I don’t bite. I’ll just run you to get your keys and bring you back here.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I’m supposed to be at work in thirty minutes. I don’t have time for that.”
I should have just walked away and left her and her bitchy attitude on the sidewalk. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “I’ll run you home to grab a change a clothes and then drop you off at work.”
She steps forward and my vision blurs red from her closeness.
“Well . . . ,” she says.
I blink at her in confusion.
“The helmet. Are you going to hand it to me?”
Relief rises as I stretch out my hand and grin. “Here you go,” I say, bowing before her. “Where to?” What the hell is wrong with me?
“Sunset Place. Do you know where it is?”
Before I answer, she turns on her heels to head over to my bike. I watch her approach it with caution. She surveys it for a minute and then puts on the helmet. It’s a little big but she looks cute as f**k. Without fastening the strap she tries to clamber on the bike.
“Whoa, wait let me help you.” I rush to her side.
She plants both feet on the ground. “I can do it.”
Over her protests, I grasp the edge of the helmet’s open face and readjust it directly over her forehead. Then I tighten the strap. Already my heart is pounding from our close contact. So I walk around to the left side of the bike and a quirk a finger. “Come over here.”
With a scowl she does. “I can get on myself.”
“I’m sure you can but humor me.”
Again, an eye roll.
I shake my head in her direction. “Extend your right leg over the seat and then slide gently up onto it.”
She does with a slight huff.
“Put your feet on the pegs.” I point down.
“I’m not a child. I can figure it out.”
I try not to laugh because she is acting like a child. But surprisingly she does as she’s told.
“Good.” I’m trying to encourage her.
She gives me a closed mouth smile; I ignore her obnoxious gesture. “Have you ever ridden on one of these?”
“No. But how hard could it be?”
“For you, not very. It’s all a question of balance. Just stay upright and hold on.”
“Where’s your helmet?” she asks as I hop on.
“I gave it to you,” I say over my shoulder.
“You don’t have two?”
“I just bought the bike a few hours ago. I didn’t think I’d have a passenger so soon.” At that she says nothing. I can’t see her expression to tell whether she’s making a face. I put both my feet on the ground and turn my head. “Ready?”
By sunset I’m jamming my boot down on the kickstand of my new black and silver BMW K 1300S. Sweetest ride I’ve ever bought. Its dynamic performance sold me within the first few feet of the tires hitting the pavement—she can move. As twilight teases the horizon, I toss my leg over the side and step back to admire the beauty of the incredible machine that’s now mine—on credit, but I own it nonetheless. When I glance up, I see someone’s red hair blowing in the wind. There’s no mistaking her—S’belle. I stay frozen in place and observe her standing on the sidewalk. She pulls her phone away from her ear and kicks the flat tire of her car with her high heel.
Next she goes to the passenger door and bends down, peeking into the window of the white Cabriolet. She looks like she could use some assistance.
With my helmet in my hand I approach her. “Need some help?”
Her eyes dart to mine and her mouth forms a frown. “No, I’m good.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t look that way.”
Her phone rings and her eyes cut to the pocket she tucked it into and so do mine. I can’t help but notice the way her tight jeans hug her hips and thighs. She doesn’t even pull it out.
I raise a brow. “Not going to answer that? What if that’s your automotive assistance?”
“It’s my boss. I’m supposed to be at the wedding venue in thirty minutes.”
“So did you call Triple A?”
“No, I don’t have Triple A,” she hisses. “I’ve always called my brothers but neither is in town and my mother and stepfather are gone as well.”
I tap her trunk. “So pop this baby and I’ll change the tire for you.”
“I’m not completely helpless. I would have done that already but I locked my keys in the car. I’ve spent the last thirty minutes trying to figure out where I left them and there they are.” She points in the window.
I peer inside. The keys are dangling from the ignition. “Can’t help you there. Left my lock-pick kit at home.” She rolls her eyes. “Do you have a second set of keys?”
“Not on me,” she barks, and I try not to laugh. I could be offended that she seems to hate me so much but, honestly, something about her fiery attitude makes me yearn to see more of it. I try to control my grin by swiping my hand across my mouth. “I mean at home.”
Her brows scrunch together. “Of course I do, but that doesn’t help me now, does it?”
What I’m feeling is an overwhelming urge to spank her for being such a smart-ass but instead I hand her my helmet. “Here put this on.”
Her hands fly to her hips and she bites her bottom lip as if contemplating her fate. When her phone rings again, she glances at her wrist but she’s not wearing a watch. “Just get on,” I order. “I don’t bite. I’ll just run you to get your keys and bring you back here.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I’m supposed to be at work in thirty minutes. I don’t have time for that.”
I should have just walked away and left her and her bitchy attitude on the sidewalk. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “I’ll run you home to grab a change a clothes and then drop you off at work.”
She steps forward and my vision blurs red from her closeness.
“Well . . . ,” she says.
I blink at her in confusion.
“The helmet. Are you going to hand it to me?”
Relief rises as I stretch out my hand and grin. “Here you go,” I say, bowing before her. “Where to?” What the hell is wrong with me?
“Sunset Place. Do you know where it is?”
Before I answer, she turns on her heels to head over to my bike. I watch her approach it with caution. She surveys it for a minute and then puts on the helmet. It’s a little big but she looks cute as f**k. Without fastening the strap she tries to clamber on the bike.
“Whoa, wait let me help you.” I rush to her side.
She plants both feet on the ground. “I can do it.”
Over her protests, I grasp the edge of the helmet’s open face and readjust it directly over her forehead. Then I tighten the strap. Already my heart is pounding from our close contact. So I walk around to the left side of the bike and a quirk a finger. “Come over here.”
With a scowl she does. “I can get on myself.”
“I’m sure you can but humor me.”
Again, an eye roll.
I shake my head in her direction. “Extend your right leg over the seat and then slide gently up onto it.”
She does with a slight huff.
“Put your feet on the pegs.” I point down.
“I’m not a child. I can figure it out.”
I try not to laugh because she is acting like a child. But surprisingly she does as she’s told.
“Good.” I’m trying to encourage her.
She gives me a closed mouth smile; I ignore her obnoxious gesture. “Have you ever ridden on one of these?”
“No. But how hard could it be?”
“For you, not very. It’s all a question of balance. Just stay upright and hold on.”
“Where’s your helmet?” she asks as I hop on.
“I gave it to you,” I say over my shoulder.
“You don’t have two?”
“I just bought the bike a few hours ago. I didn’t think I’d have a passenger so soon.” At that she says nothing. I can’t see her expression to tell whether she’s making a face. I put both my feet on the ground and turn my head. “Ready?”
