“Not killing me is the test.” Before he could argue, I swung a leg over the side of the seat, balling his shirt between my fists and sliding on. I settled myself, staring at Casey and trying very hard not to think about the smooth hardness of abs underneath my fingertips.
“Ready?” Casey called out.
“Let’s do it,” Ford yelled back.
Frank gave us a military-style salute and Casey twisted his throttle, kicking up a cloud of dust in our faces. Using one hand, I returned Frank’s salute begrudgingly. With the other, I held on as Ford gunned the engine, kicked it into first gear, and took off. When the momentum caught, I was thrown forward, my chest hitting firmly against Ford’s back. I wrapped both hands around his firm middle and held on, catching myself before our helmets could crack together. Dammit, I was riding like a complete newbie.
And where was I supposed to put my hands again? I looked for handles beside me but there was nothing. These little bikes didn’t have the big bars like street motorcycles did. And Casey liked these better. They were lighter, easier to whip around and make airborne. I normally agreed. But no handles meant I had no choice but to grip Ford around the ribs and pretend it didn’t send a tingle of nerves from my fingertips all the way to the tip of my scalp.
Ford could ride. I’d give him that.
Not once during our dip-and-turn through the woods did I worry he would dump me or lose it. He was competent and careful but not so cautious I didn’t get an adrenaline rush when he down-shifted to take a left curve sharp and fast.
“Wooo!” I yelled when the bike righted itself underneath me and we sped up.
I felt rather than heard Ford’s laughter as his torso shook beneath my arms. I smiled along with him. It’d been too long since I did this. The rush of a motorcycle was the best. No time or space to think about your problems, much less dwell on them. Nothing could eat at you out here. It was only you and the machine and the trail in front of you. Get too distracted and you’d miss something important like a mud hole or tree stump and go flying.
Before we even reached the creek, my anger had melted off. I’d known it would, but instead of fading from the love of a bike ride, it was being slowly replaced with the heat of straddling the small space of seat while pressed against Ford.
I’d given up on not reacting to the closeness. Now all I could do was pray my reaction wasn’t showing on my face when we stopped. His abs and pecs were solid underneath the pressure of my palms. I could feel the ripple of muscle, the planes and angles where chest became abdomen. We hit a bump and my hands slid quickly up and then down again. My breath caught. Holy hell, his nipples were hard. Heat built between my thighs, sending a delicious burn straight into the lower reaches of my stomach. It took everything I had not to lift my legs and wrap them around him instead of the machine I straddled. I held very still, holding my breath until I was sure I could exhale without moaning.
Before I’d fully recovered, we slowed and stopped. “What’s going on?” I asked, dazed.
“Casey just waved and turned off the trail,” Ford said.
I sat up straight, the haze of desire completely evaporated. “What?”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone where?” I looked around and realized for the first time, the sound of us idling was the only motor I heard.
“That way.” Ford pointed, but all I saw was overgrown brush and a downed tree.
“But … what’s he doing? We can’t follow that way, not with both of us on this thing.”
“I think that was his point,” Ford said wryly. And I knew. This had been Casey’s plan all along. He knew I wouldn’t want to talk about Mom. To him or Frank or anyone. In Casey’s mind, the only way to cheer me up was a complete and total distraction. Hence, Ford.
“Stupid freaking liar,” I muttered, thinking of the bogus line he’d fed me about his dirt bike not holding two people.
“What?” Ford said.
“Ugh. Nothing.”
“You want to take a break? Stretch your legs?”
Without waiting for an answer, Ford killed the engine. Around us, the woods were quiet save for the cicadas. Far off, a single bird called once and then fell silent again. It wasn’t quite cool enough for them to make an appearance. Later. For now, it was humidity, cicadas, and the heat that could only be caused by riding a dirt bike with Ford O’Neal.
Oh, yeah. Casey was good. I’d get him for this.
I slid off and removed my helmet, hanging it on one of the handlebars before wandering down toward the water. Leaves crunched underneath my boots. I didn’t bother finding the trail or waiting for Ford. I found a spot on a rock and sat. Some of my earlier irritation had returned now that I was on two legs again.
“You want to talk about it?” Ford asked, sitting beside me. He was close enough to reach out and touch but far enough away that it didn’t make me squirm. I could think clearly as long as he stayed over there.
I stared at the water, watching the gentle ripple where it trickled around a rock that stuck out above the surface. It was peaceful here. Farther up, where I’d have to race with Casey, it was deeper, the rapids much faster. I liked it better here, where the sound was soothing and more of a background noise instead of in your face and roaring. “Not especially,” I said finally.
“Wanna make out?”
“What?” I whipped my head up, sure I’d misheard him.
He laughed. “Casey said you needed a distraction. Just trying to help.”
“Casey’s an ass.” My cheeks burned at the thought of accepting Ford’s invitation, even if it had been a joke.
“Agreed. Doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”
“Depends on who you ask.”
There was something so easy about the way he bantered. Like nothing ruffled him. Nothing shook his center. I wished I could be like that. Then again, maybe he’d never had something happen that was big enough to shake him. And somehow, the thought lessened my irritation. I couldn’t snap at him. He didn’t know my baggage. I didn’t know his.
“Ford.” I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders rise as the oxygen filled me completely and gave me the patience and courage to continue. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I don’t know you. I’m not going to just spill all my problems. And you don’t have to bring me out here and do … all this.” I used my hands to gesture around us. “It’s not your problem, it’s mine.”
“I’m not arguing the first part. You don’t know me. But I’d like the chance to let you. And sometimes talking to someone who doesn’t know all about it helps you see it clearer.” He spoke slowly, as if he’d considered his answer carefully rather than just throwing out what I might want to hear. Another layer of defenses crumbled.
“You might be right,” I admitted. “I just … I don’t do that.”
“Didn’t you come home in order to start doing things differently? Make a new way for yourself?”
“You can’t use my words against me.”
He smiled. “Fine. I’ll give you until we get to my greenhouse. By then, when you tell me, it’ll seem like your idea.” He stood and offered his hand. I took it, letting him pull me up.
“Why are we going to your greenhouse?”
I dropped his hand the moment I was on my feet. How did simple hand-holding reduce me to a sixth-grade prude? You would’ve thought it was Danny-what’s-his-slobber all over again. No, that wasn’t right. Even without any solid proof, I was absolutely positive Ford could kiss better than that.
I eyed his mouth and watched as it slowly curved up at the corners. Oh, yeah. That mouth definitely didn’t slobber. As hot as its owner was, I almost wouldn’t mind if it did. I licked my own lips and jumped when Ford suddenly closed the distance between us so that we stood toe to toe. Our only contact was his chest pressed lightly against my breasts. It was enough to make my nipples tighten and my breath quicken.
He bent over me, his breath warm on my face. “I was going to respect your wishes. Give you som
e space. But the more I think about it, the more I agree that you just need to be good and distracted. And since you can’t seem to take your eyes off my mouth, I think we should start there.”
Before I could protest, he lowered his lips to mine. I told myself to pull away, to walk straight back to the dirt bike parked up the hill and demand he drive me home. Or drive myself home. Or run. Kissing would only lead to … more kissing—and I didn’t want to think about what else. Or I did. And that was the problem.
But the second Ford’s mouth touched mine, every reason and excuse and rational thought disappeared. His lips moved slowly at first, prodding my own apart slowly. When the kiss deepened, he laid a hand on my hip. I leaned in, wanting more of his hands on my body. I was rewarded with his arm sliding around as he pressed a hand against the small of my back. When his tongue darted out and licked the inside of my upper lip, my knees went liquidy. I slid my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I didn’t want him to try anything crazy like pull away.
Heat burned its way through my veins, settling between my thighs and leaving an ache. My hands began to move on their own, running down the length of his back and up the planes of his chest. My heartbeat roared in my ears. I couldn’t breathe. And I didn’t particularly care if I never did again. So long as he never stopped touching me.
When Ford broke the kiss, it felt like waking from a heavy dream. It was almost painful coming back to reality. His hand stroked my hair and trailed down my arm before dropping at his side again.
I tried to think of something to say, but my brain was a gray haze. “Well. That was …” I didn’t know how to finish.
“A new direction?” he offered.
I smiled, some of the tension melting off. “Definitely.”
“Good. Because it’s a direction I like. And I’m probably going to do it again.” I opened my mouth, but he cut me off. “I’ll give you until we get back to form a valid argument. For now, let’s ride.” I closed my mouth, unable to resist a smile.
I let him lead me back up the hill and to the dirt bike waiting. We strapped our helmets into place and I slid in behind Ford, locking my thighs and hands a little tighter than before.
When we got back, I’d have to do exactly what he’d just said and explain to him why I shouldn’t let that happen again. But for now, I was going to enjoy the best kiss of my life and mentally congratulate myself for beating Casey in checking off one more thing on our list.
Chapter Nine
Ford
“People need to pursue passion and happiness more instead of settling for whatever life picture they’re taught to want.” –Ford O’Neal
Now I understood why grown men wrote poetry and serenaded outside windows. Summer Stafford’s mouth was fucking inspiring. No matter what she said next, there was no way I wasn’t doing that again. Whatever argument or “this is the sensible thing to do” speech she tried to give me, I would change her mind. I had just over four months left to do it. I planned on kissing her for the majority of that time.
And a dirt bike ride? Genius. Casey definitely had his moments. I thought steam was going to shoot out of Summer’s ears when he told her to ride with me. And then again when he disappeared into the woods. But she’d rolled with it. She seemed genuinely torn between wanting to be friends—or whatever this led to—and wanting to run home and hide. Now that Casey had filled me in, I understood why. That didn’t make it any less of a challenge or a thrill when she gave in, put reason aside, and did what she felt. People needed to pursue passion and happiness more instead of settling for whatever life picture they’re taught to want. If nothing else, maybe I could teach her to let go a little.
Four months wasn’t much time for anything else. Not that anything else was on the menu. Friendship, affection, passion, those were all things I enjoyed pursuing. Love? That wasn’t in the cards. Not for me, not yet. Love clouded a future, blocked you from fulfilling your dreams in order to be there for the other person. That wasn’t what I wanted. Didn’t mean I intended to miss out on the first three. No matter how short lived.
I made sure to take the turns at extra speeds the entire way home. I knew the trail well enough now to punch it a little, and I loved the way her thighs squeezed me when she got nervous. I caught the sound of her laughter a few times before the wind carried it off and knew she was having just as much fun as I was. That alone let me know there was an inner, wilder version of Summer just waiting to be loosed. It made me rev a little faster, turn a little sharper, just to see it for a few fleeting moments.
Summer Stafford, without barriers, was a beautiful sight to behold.
When I pulled up next to the greenhouse, Summer hooted and dismounted. I stole a look at her ass when she turned to remove her helmet. It was a damn fine ass, high and tight in her jeans. I’d wanted a handful of it earlier but stopped myself. A first kiss with Summer was like camping out for admission to your favorite concert. You didn’t charge the arena. You waited your turn or risked getting thrown out.
I slid to my feet, unclipped my helmet, and found her grinning at me. “That was great,” she said, obviously still floating on the adrenaline of our ride. “Reserved Summer” would never have let that much feeling slip into her voice. I loved hearing her talk like this. “I had no idea you were such a speed addict,” she teased.
“When the time calls for it,” I said. “But I don’t mind going slow, either.” Judging by the flush that filled her cheeks, I knew she’d caught my meaning. Damn, this girl was fun to rile. I grinned and hung my helmet before heading inside, leaving her to follow.
Thankfully, Casey had come by yesterday and fixed the vents so the place stayed a little cooler than outside. It was stuffy but lacked the punch of the humidity that hung like a damp curtain over the entire county. That was one thing I wouldn’t miss in South Dakota. Humidity.
I went to the mini-fridge I’d brought with me from New Mexico and took out two lemonades. It was the first non-alcoholic drink I’d stocked since … ever. Then again, Summer was the first girl I’d entertained in my work space. Look at me planning ahead.
“Something cold?” I offered.
“Thanks.”
She cracked the top and tipped her head back for a long swig. I stared at the way her neck exposed itself while she drank. Had I found necks attractive before? I didn’t think so, but on her, it was sexy as hell with her hair pulled back and her eyes closed as the cold liquid slid down her throat. I wanted to run my tongue all the way down her neck and chest, right along the line of cleavage that disappeared inside her tiny T-shirt. I bet she’d taste salty from the heat of the afternoon. My jeans tightened as I tried to imagine exactly how her skin tasted.
“What is that one?” she asked, pulling me out of my daydreams that had grown to include a shirtless Summer and my wandering hands. I blinked and sought out the object of her attention.
“Actacaea Racemosa.”
“In English?”
“Black cohosh,” I said, walking over slowly, praying she didn’t look below the button of my jeans and see the very obvious proof my mind had been elsewhere.
“What does it do?” she asked.
“Most commonly, it’s used to treat symptoms of menopause.”
She smirked at me. “And that’s your passion, to cure the world’s menopause epidemic?”
“Funny. Yeah, menopause is my thing.”
“Don’t tell me Casey’s your guinea pig for this one too.”
“He hasn’t had a single cramp since I moved in.”
She laughed. “So why is it over here in the corner? Did it get moody and need some alone time?”
“No, it’s actually toxic if over-exposed. This version of the plant is rare and more potent. I’m hoping to use it for treating the symptoms of osteoporosis.”
“Wow, does it work?”
“Not sure yet. The germination time is a lot longer on this one. Takes about a year of growth before you can harvest it for use.”
“That’s
a long time to wait for a result,” she said.
“Not when it’s worth it.”
I caught the frown before she masked it. “Four years ago, I would’ve said that same thing about my future, but here I am, back where I started.”
“I don’t know about that. Just because you’re home doesn’t mean you haven’t made progress. I’ll bet you’ve learned a lot about yourself in those four years.”
“True. But I’m not exactly where I thought I’d be.”
“Doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Just means your direction has changed.”
“I think you need to have direction to know whether it’s changed.”
“Your direction earlier felt good to me.”
Something passed over her features, a shadow of regret or indecision, maybe. She didn’t respond to my innuendo about the kiss. Instead, she continued on like I hadn’t even mentioned it. “What about you? Where do you see yourself in four years?”
I took a swig of my lemonade before answering that one. I knew what she was after. This was a “when I grow up, I want to be something grand” conversation. I hated those. Because no one else ever answered like I did. First, I never wanted to grow up. And second, who cares what I did as long as I was happy. My parents had instilled that in me and it stuck. The world was full of “I do whatever makes the most money,” but I was much more comfortable with “I do what makes me happy.”
I was positive Summer wouldn’t go for that answer. “Four years is a long time to speculate on,” I said finally.
“Isn’t that the point? To speculate long enough to pick a direction?”
“I think the point is that we don’t limit ourselves to one future, one singular path.”
“I agree but it’s still good to have direction, goals,” she said. I looked up at the hardness in her voice and saw she had a dark smudge of dirt trailing down her cheek. This prim and proper lady looking dirty had to be the cutest thing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t even take her temper seriously right now, although I knew I was irritating her. Or maybe that was her own baggage showing itself. Either way, it softened me, and without thinking, I lifted a hand and used my thumb to wipe the smudge away.
A Risk Worth Taking Page 7
