“I know. I would’ve cut it, ya know?”
“Yeah, but I kind of wanted something to keep me busy. A little exercise never hurt.”
“Well, let me put fuel in it at least.” He walks in the garage and comes back out with the gas can. After he fills the lawn mower, he stands and smiles at me. “There you go.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“So, I know we said dinner tonight. I was thinking, wanna head into town for a bite?”
I had planned on making meatloaf, but the day is hot and heading out for a cold beer sounds amazing. “Um, yes, but it’s my treat,” I remind him. “I owe you for the childcare this past weekend.”
“You don’t owe me, but fine,” he folds. “Any chance you’d ride on the bike with me?”
My brows rise. “I’ve never been on one.”
This time, his brows rise and another beautiful grin spreads across his face. “Really?”
“Really,” I confirm.
“Well, I understand if you don’t want to. We can drive.”
I look over at his bike in the driveway and feeling shame deep inside, I realize I want to ride the bike. But the only reason I want to, maybe, is because I want to feel what it’s like to sit that close to him and wrap my arms around his body. Damn, I’m a head case. “No, I’d like to ride the bike,” I finally say.
“Okay, then.” He nods. “Leave around 6:00?
“It’s a date,” I slip out, then shake my head. What did I just say? “I mean . . . not a date. It’s a . . . dinner or whatever.” Shut up, Demi. Stop the madness.
Connor chuckles and walks past me. “See you at 6:00.”
We meet in the driveway at 6:00 pm on the dot. I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a black tank top. Connor is wearing jeans and a black T-shirt.
“Well aren’t we adorable, matching and shit,” he jokes as he puts on his helmet.
I laugh. “Should I change clothes?”
“Hell no. You look hot.” Rounding the bike he approaches me with another helmet and I pray my arms, neck and cheeks haven’t taken on the shade of a beet after his compliment. He slips the helmet on my head and begins tightening it around my chin. “You’re adorable when you blush, you know?” he murmurs. There went that.
“It’s hot out here,” I reply lamely.
“It’s not that hot,” he replies with a grin.
“You know Colorado has no helmet laws,” I point out, hoping to change the subject.
“And anyone who rides without one is a fucking idiot,” he mumbles.
“True,” I agree.
After he finishes with the strap, he taps my nose with his index finger. He turns and climbs on his bike, hitting the kickstand. The muscles in his arms flex as he mans the bike and I decide I really like motorcycles. After a moment, the Harley roars to life, and he steadies it to one side, looking at me. “Use this little step and climb on.”
With a deep breath, I follow his instructions and climb on, scooting myself forward so that my body is flush with his. His hands reach around, grabbing mine and pulling them around his firm mid-section. “Hold on tightly to me, okay?”
“Okay,” I shout over the engine. He walks the bike back, turning it around and then slowly takes it down the driveway letting the weight create a momentum that makes us roll.