Chapter Seven
Caitlin
I’m exhausted. My eyes feel dry and scratchy and they’re kind of draining at the corners. But the need to keep going drives me like all the demons I’ve built up over a lifetime are hot on my tail.
I’m aware of Axl as he slows and noses up on my right side. I move over and he pulls out in front of me in a motion I totally understand. He’s taking the lead. And I’m fine with that. Glancing at him, I lift a little, trying to ease up some of the pressure between my legs. My whole pelvic region is sore from all the sitting straddling the seat.
He jerks his head toward the sign for the next exit and I give a tiny nod. We’re taking the next exit. Got it. And when we get where we’re going, I’m taking some ibuprofen. It’s been hours since we’d gotten out on the open road. My stomach rumbles in protest as I realize it’s been a long dang time since we ate.
In unison, we take the exit.
I watch his motions, watch his body language and the way he leans into the curves, marveling in this unspoken language I never knew existed before. Being on the road with another bike has taught me a lot about my companion. Like the fact that he does not like being second. He craves the lead, but he’s let me have it. He’s got self-control and tells. Tiny ones, but tells none the less.
We make another turn and I hope he knows where we are. I’ve never been outside my town before, so a whole new city is scary. And exhilarating. But we’re not quite far enough away that I feel like I can breathe easy.
After a few minutes, we pull off into the parking lot of a Japanese botanical garden. Cherry trees shed white petals like snowflakes and their sweet scent fills the air. We park side by side in a single spot and he takes off his helmet. I follow suit, giving him a curious look. He drops his kickstand, his eyes on the gates as I put my helmet away.
Together, we get off our bikes and head up to the gates. I stare up at him as he opens them and steps inside, motioning me to follow. And I get it. He’s trying to get me to relax. That’s what this place is for. And I melt a little.
Inside, water flows around little man made islands and giant Koi fish swim just below the surface. Their scales reflect the sunshine and I glance up at my companion.
“Thank you,” I whisper, emotion closing my throat. He’s only ever done kind things for me. And I’d judged him that first day. I’d thought he was rude and coarse and likely a jerk. He just has that air. That awful aura of someone you know will hurt you, you just don’t know when. But he’s never done a single awful thing to me.
Staring at a temple that’s surrounded by water and trees weeping cherry blossom petals, I speak in a quiet, ashamed voice. “I thought you were a bad man,” I whisper, my cheeks stinging red. “Like a gang member or something.”
He plants his elbows on the railing and leans into it as the scent of water tickles my nose. “You’re correct,” he says in a gravelly voice and I jerk my head up and stare at him. He’s watching the Koi fish swim.
I try to wrap my head around his words. Which was he agreeing with? That he’s a bad man? Or a gang member? Or both? When I speak, the words are as hesitant as I feel. “But you’ve only ever been kind to me,” I whisper.
He says nothing.
“People are never kind without ulterior motives,” I say finally, feeling an ache in my throat. Why am I doing this? Nothing good can come from this conversation. Why am I hell bent on alienating the one person who’s been good to me?
He nods. “Yep.”
“So what’s yours?” I ask.
He draws in a deep breath and expels it slowly through his nose. He gives me a quick glance, then focuses on the fish again. I hold my breath, wondering if he’s finally going to open up just a tiny bit.
“Not being an asshole for once in my life.” His words are short, clipped, and cruel.
I freeze up and icy pinpricks race over my flesh. “I don’t understand,” I say softly. I want him to give me more. Help me understand what he’s saying. I want to understand him. Not because I don’t trust him – I do – but because I genuinely wonder how someone like this wound up here with me right now. It’s too many odds. There’s just too much stacked against this particular scenario.
“You’re right,” he says finally, his knuckles going white as he grips the railing. “I’m not a good guy. I’m not a fucking knight in shining armor.” His jaw ripples like he’s grinding his teeth. Like he’s trying to stop the words. I don’t want him to regret talking to me.
“You don’t owe me answers,” I whisper. He doesn’t. All he’s done for me are good things. His past is his business and while I’m incredibly curious, I also respect his need for privacy. I get the need for privacy all too well.
He glances over at me, his eyes locked on my face. “I know,” he says.
I can’t help the small smile creeping across my lips. “Besides, shining armor means you’ve never seen battle.”
Something ignites in his eyes.
“And I don’t think a knight who’s never seen battle is a hero at all,” I say softly, reaching out to flip the collar of his black tee shirt where it had folded under. His skin is warm under my fingers and I feel my pulse jump and begin galloping in my chest as our eyes meet. And I realize I’m touching him.
Jerking my hand back, I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear and stare at the water. “So, um, how much farther are we going tonight?”
“How far do you want to go tonight?”
I glance back up at him, shocked at the heat that roars through me at the suggestive words. Is that what I’d asked? Wracking my brain, I feel like everything up there is short circuiting as I struggle for an answer.
How far do I want to go tonight?
He’s studying me closely and I see his pupils dilate a little bit. As if our bodies are talking on a level we can’t control, I feel something in me respond. My nipples tighten and I suck in a shocked little breath.
How far do I want to go tonight?