Page 87 of The Gift
He glanced over his shoulder, amused. “I don’t take passengers I’m not planning to keep.”
She blinked, her heart giving an involuntary jump.
He handed her a helmet. She took it—skeptical. When she fumbled with it, he took it from her. His practiced hands adjusted the fit, fingers brushing her skin as he secured the chin strap. When satisfied, he patted her shoulder. “You’re all set.”
She looked up at him. “I’m not sure about this.”
The corners of his mouth turned up.
“What’s funny?”
“You look cute.”
She snorted. Seriously? “Women my age are not cute.”
“Wrong.” His quiet laugh said he enjoyed her reaction too much. “Ready?”
She hesitated, imagining herself flying off the back.
He took her hand, squeezing it gently. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“I do,” she said without hesitation. “The other drivers on the road? Not a chance.”
His thumb brushed over her knuckles. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She held his gaze a moment then nodded. “Okay.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, grinning, and her heart went from flutter to full-on flurry.
His girl…
She smiled, knowing it was goofy and giddy and not caring in the slightest. Here they were in the middle of a Mafia murder/kidnapping/arms-trafficking investigation, plus whatever else the universe planned to throw at them, and she was ecstatically happy. If she could’ve managed it without killing them both, she might’ve popped a few celebratory wheelies.
Vince grabbed his helmet and swung one long leg over the bike. “Climb on.”
Thank goodness he was busy with his strap and didn’t see her awkward scramble. She was short; the bike was not, and it took a firm grip on his shoulders to keep from tipping sideways.
The engine roared to life before she was entirely ready. But they rolled forward anyway, his boots skimming the concrete as they exited the garage.
“Wrap around me,” he instructed through the helmet comms.
She didn’t wait for him to finish before doing exactly that.
Vince eased down the drive. She clutched tighter when the bike tilted into the turn at the end of the road. Every burst of acceleration pulled a squeal from her throat; every lean into a curve increased her death grip.
“Relax your hips,” he coached. “Move with me.”
Gradually, she did. The panic eased enough for her to absorb the experience. Blue skies, sunshine, wind streaming past, the open Texas road stretching ahead of them.
She rested her cheek between his shoulders. This was freedom. More daring than she was used to, but not reckless, not with Vince firmly in control.
A smile spread across her face. “Okay,” she admitted through the headset. “This is incredible.”
“Do you love it?”
“Yes.”
“Told you.”
