Page 65 of Forest Proximity
I throw my truck into park in front of the diner and run a hand down my face. “I don’t know, Ruth. Things are getting away from me.”
“I don’t think so.” She sighs. “I think things are finally coming together.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “There’s a sweaty ghillie suit in the back of my truck that suggests otherwise.”
She laughs. “But look at the big picture. You’re seeing a girl you like—on the down-low, but still. That’s major progress. You’re out of your routine—”
Something with red hair and a familiar laugh streaks past the hood of my truck.
“Stevie?” I mutter to myself, fighting a smile. “What is she doing?”
“Adam?” Ruth sounds worried. “Everything okay?”
“I gotta go, Sis.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Stevie just rolled past my truck on a Segway.”
Chapter 25
Stevie
About an hour earlier
Idon’t want to admit it, but Diana did a decent job setting me up. Jake is okay. In fact, if I hadn’t spent so much of the last week with Adam, I might even be interested. Marlow has been gloating behind the counter since I got here.
Jake is an objectively handsome man. I can acknowledge that. He’s all sun-bronzed skin, golden hair, picture-perfect stubble, and broad shoulders. He also has a job. It’s something techy at a startup that manufactures e-scooters. I zoned out halfway through his explanation, but he’s passionate, and he’s smart. On top of that, Jake doesn’t seem to mind talking about sasquatch, and his mom didn’t drive him here. Yep. The bar is on the floor.
When he sauntered back to my booth, he had a black motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. Three weeks ago, Jake might have turned my head. Tonight, it’s like I’m having a fun night with one of my brothers, and dinner is almost over.
“Well ...” I loop my purse over my shoulder, the universal sign that the date is winding down. “I should get going.”
“What about that ride?” Jake slides out of the booth ahead of me, tucking his helmet under his arm. “You still haven’t been on an X-Eighty. That’s a crime, Stevie.”
“Wellll ...” I hitch my purse higher, the universal sign that I’m in a secret relationship and shouldn’t go on motorcycle rides with objectively handsome men.
“C’mon,” Jake prods with a crooked smile as we stop at the cash register. “No strings. Just a quick zip around the neighborhood.”
Marlow clears her throat.
Jake passes her his credit card. “You’re going to love it. Trust me.”
“Wellllll ...” I stall, scrambling for a reasonable excuse to skip out early.
Marlow clears her throat again.
“Do you need a glass of water, miss?” I mutter pointedly while Jake signs a receipt.
She rolls her eyes, gesturing with her head toward the motorcycle helmet.
“Okay. I’ll go,” I say with forced lightness. Apparently, I have to. I refuse to be accused of half-arsing my end of this bet.
I follow my date through the glass door and a few feet down the sidewalk. I scan the parking spaces for a motorcycle, but Jake doesn’t walk toward the parking spaces. Tucked against the brick diner is ... something I didn’t envision when he offered me a ride on his X-Eighty. I didn’t know what an X-Eighty was. I do now.
“It’s a Segway?” I bite my lip.
“That’s a similar brand, but this is better. First of all, this has enough under the hood to carry two passengers.”
What hood?
But Jake’s not done. “It feels goofy at first, but trust me. You’re going to have a blast.” He holds out his helmet, all chivalry. “Are you in or what, Sullivan?”
