Page 157 of Fly's Path

Couch Cuddling

Sheridan

Okay, I get now why women ride motorcycles with a guy. It’s the closest you can get to peace on earth while feeling completely free and alive.

The only thing a little irritating is the helmet. I so very badly want to lay my head on his back and close my eyes.

That probably wouldn’t be a good idea on a moving vehicle with no sides or seatbelts. “Do they make seatbelts for these things?”

“Why do you ask?”

What I do love about these helmets—other than the fact that they protect my brain—is that I can hear Fly crystal clear in them. We can talk and ride. “Well, if for some reason, a personwere to think about, say, taking a nap on the back, would that be possible? Asking for a friend.”

“No falling asleep back there, Sheri. We aren’t experienced enough for that. Nor is it the right bike.”

“Wait, what? There are bikes that can do that? Do you have one?”

“I can get us one, but not for a while. We have to be so in sync. You need to develop muscle memory.”

“Fine. Whatever. I was just hoping you could strap me in and call it good enough.”

His chuckles warm my heart. “Glad to hear you like it.”

“What’s not to like? The weather is lovely, I’m practically wrapped around a hot guy, the views are amazing, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this alive in my life.”

“Let’s go back to wrapped around the hot guy.”

“I could, but I’m too busy holding on and watching the views. You picked the perfect road to drive down.”

“The ride home is always the best.”

What? “Why are we stopping?”

“Because it’s going to get dark soon. I haven’t fed you in hours, and I don’t want to find out how you get when hangry. Also, I have plans to continue this cuddling thing on the couch. Only then I’ll have my arms wrapped around you.”

“All of that sounds wonderful. Perfect even. How do you do this? Plan dates that are better than the last. You know, by date five or six you're going to need to take me to Paris in order to beat it.”

“Paris, you say? And what could possibly beat Paris? Don’t worry, I’m taking notes here.”

“Don’t take notes. You’re driving this thing. And Paris was just a silly dream.”

“I’d like to hear all your dreams.”

“Saying things like that will get you kissed.”

The smirk in his voice speaks loudly when he says, “That’s the idea. I want to kiss you until you never want to stop kissing me. Then I want to kiss you some more.”

That’s what I want too, more than anything, but the reality of our future makes even thinking about it too hard. “So what are you making me for dinner?”

“I was thinking we could start with a ceviche, then move on to a poached pear salad, and end with some grilled lobster and scalloped potatoes.”

“That sounds amazing. Did you order out? You didn’t need to. I could whip us up something quick.” The idea that he would spend that much money on a meal for us…it just reinforces how different our lives are.

“No restaurant. I want you all to myself. Everything is prepped in the fridge so that all I have to do is cook the lobster and the potatoes, and dinner is done.”

“You prepped…like with your own two hands?” Why does that shock me and not shock me at the same time?

“What can I say, I’m good with my hands. There’s a curve coming up. You ready to lean with me?”