Page 103 of Rags's Awakening
Then he glanced at her.
“How come you haven’t told me you were a biker chick?”
Casey blinked. “I’m not.”
“Bullshit, baby,” he said, pointing the spatula at her. “The way you rode last night? There was no fuckin’ way you’d only been on a bike a few times. You didn’t resist once. No death grip. You were leaning with me through every curve like you’d done it a million times.”
Pink crept into her cheeks. “I just followed you… like you told me.”
“Nah.” His voice dropped, rougher now. “You knew what you were doing. You stayed loose and looked through the turns. Fuck, half the ol’ ladies can’t even do that.”
She took a long sip of coffee, trying way too hard to look unflustered.
“So… whose bike was it?”
“The omelet’s going to burn,” she said, setting her mug down with athud.
“Shit,” he muttered, pulling the pan off the burner.
“I’ll slice the bread.”
They sat at the breakfast counter, a basket of bread between them, two glasses of orange juice beside their plates.
“This is delicious,” she said, setting her fork down. “Where did you learn to make an omelet like this?”
“It needs some cream, parsley, or chives.” He placed a large bite into his mouth.
“I think it’s perfect. I never could master these. I always end up scrambling the eggs.” She giggled and took another bite.
“My mom’s a great cook, and my dad’s the grill master of all time, or at least that’s what he thinks.” Rags chuckled, lifting his orange juice.
“So your mom taught you to cook?”
“Not really. Just watched her a lot in the kitchen. But like I said, I can only do justice to a few dishes.”
After they finished eating, Casey loaded everything into the dishwasher. Rags snagged her hand and drew her to him. “So… whose bike were you on the back of for so long?”
“Damn. You’re like a dog with a bone,” she said, poking a finger into his side.
“Why don’t you wanna tell me?” His eyes narrowed. “Is it because you’re still on the back of his bike?”
“No. Not all.” She pulled away and walked toward the couch. “I just knew a guy who had a Harley, that’s all. It’s no big deal.” She sank onto the sofa.
“A biker?”
“Duh… he had a bike.”
“You still seeing him?”
“No. That was a long time ago.” She picked at a loose thread on the cushion. “I love the feel of the wind around me, the open space, feeling one with nature.” Her fingertips trailed up his arm. “I loved riding on the back of your Harley last night.”
“I loved having you pressed against me, your arms around me. And I liked that you knew how to ride.”
“Don’t the women you’ve taken know how?”
“I don’t take chicks on my bike unless they’re special.” He clasped her hand and brought it to his lips.
“How many’ve had the privilege?”
