Smiling broadly, Mercedes looks like she could burst with excitement when I hand her a black helmet. “Okay, you’re going to throw your leg over but don’t let your ankles touch this area here.” I gesture down at the exhaust pipes on the side of my motorcycle. “These will burn you and hurt like hell.”
She nods, looking very serious as she frees the top knot on her head and shakes her hair out, sending a riot of red waves cascading over her shoulders. She pushes the helmet onto her head and shoves the strands over her shoulder so they run down her back.
I swallow slowly as I glance down at her skimpy attire. She’s wearing a pair of loose, colorful shorts with a white, flowing tank top. She looks girlie and super vulnerable, and it bothers me. I considered making her go home and put on some jeans but figured I was being overprotective as usual, and I’m really trying to work on that. Especially since we’re just friends and nothing more.
After a second’s hesitation, I do the only thing that doesn’t make me look like a total control freak and shake off my leather jacket. “This won’t save your legs from road rash if we crash, but I’ll feel better if you wear it.”
She nods and grasps the heavy coat out of my hand and slips into it. It covers her shorts and hangs so far down her arms that you can’t even see the tips of her fingers. She pushes the sleeves up so she can buckle the chin strap of the helmet.
“Let’s maybe not crash, though,” she chirps, her voice muffled inside the helmet.
I chuckle and reach out to grab the front of my jacket, pulling her close so I can zip it all the way. Her blue eyes are staring at me intently when I look at her and reply, “I’m not planning on it.”
She gives me a small smile, and I swear I see her nose tuck into the jacket and inhale deeply as the zipper reaches the top. She suddenly shakes her head and steps back for inspection.
“You’re swimming in that, but it’s better than nothing.” I slide the eye shield down over her baby blues and tell her to climb aboard.
Mercedes widens her legs before even putting a foot on the peg next to my boot. I try not to laugh because I guess I’m just glad she’s being careful. Resting her hands on my shoulders, she throws her leg over and sinks down on the seat behind me. Her warm center is snug against my backside, and I have to fight the urge to reach back and touch her bare legs.
I don’t fight hard enough. My hand reaches back and strokes her bare thigh as I turn my head toward her and ask, “Do you have anywhere you need to be later?”
She shakes her head, and her voice is muffled when she says, “Nope, I’m totally free.”
“Cool,” I reply, pulling my aviators out of the storage pouch on the center console of my bike. “There’s a really great mountain that I love to ride out to, and we should be able to get there just in time for sunset.”
Mercedes gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up as I slide my glasses on and turn on the power switch. Standing up on one foot, I press my foot down on the kick start. My bike roars to life, and I rev the throttle a few times to warm it up.
Her hands move from my shoulders to snake around my waist, her fingers digging into my abs in a tight squeeze as she squeals her excitement.
“You ready?” I yell over the motor, the vibrations warming my thighs as we idle.
“Ready!” she shouts back and gives me an excited hoot. Then we’re on our way out of the Tire Depot parking lot and off to chase the sunset.
We cruise southwest of Boulder for about thirty minutes out to Twin Sisters Peak, a place Sam and I frequently go hiking when we’re in the mood for something quick and not too challenging. We call it our hangover hike because we can do it no matter how shitty we feel.
No roads allow access to cruise all the way up on a motorcycle, but at the top of a hill is one lookout point where hikers pull in to park, and it boasts stunning views of the Colorado sunset.
I love Colorado in general. After Jocelyn and I broke up, my mom urged me to consider moving back to Utah, but I just didn’t feel it. Boulder had become my home. I had recently purchased a house, I liked my job and the new friends I’d made.
I had already lost the woman I thought was the love of my life, so I didn’t want to stack another big change on top of that. Jocelyn slowly migrated her way out of my life for good, and I was okay with that. I just threw myself into fixing up my house and doing a good job for Sam’s uncle at Tire Depot.
Mercedes’s grip tightens around my waist as I pull off onto the small lookout point. Behind us you can see the Gross Reservoir, to the left are the Aspen Meadows, and to the right is the beginning of the Twin Sisters Peak. This entire area is chock full of enormous pine trees, animals, and unblemished nature.
As I cut the engine and drop the kickstand down, Mercedes presses down on the top of my shoulders and lifts her leg up over the seat. I instantly miss her warmth and realize that was not one of the many descriptions Mercedes gave me when she described the warmth of a woman at the Walrus Saloon.
“God, that was incredible!” Her voice is muffled as she yanks her helmet off and shakes out her red hair. The sun slices through her strands as it sets behind the far-off hilltops. The few clouds lingering in the distance shift the sky to a stunning blend of pinks and purples. It’s the perfect weather to watch the sun set.
“Good. Were you scared?” I ask, recalling the fact that Joce never let me take her out on my bike because she never wore anything but dresses and she said my driving made her nervous.
“No, was I supposed to be?” Mercedes asks, her eyes wide.
I laugh at that, pulling off my glasses and tucking them into my shirt. “No, not at all. My ex hated the bike, though. She never wanted to go out on it.”
“Your ex is a fool. I mean, I get that motorcycles are dangerous, but it’s the danger that makes it all the more satisfying. Do you know what I mean?”
I swallow slowly. “I think so.”
“Ugh, why do we crave danger?” she asks, tucking the helmet under her arm and pacing back and forth in front of me. I have a feeling she’s doing that writer thing I’ve seen her do when she’s working through how to describe something. Only this time, she wants to articulate an emotion instead of describe a physical act. “I mean, what is it about the danger that draws in the human mind? Is it a sexual thing? A sexual attraction? I mean, what is it about the danger that keeps bringing us back over and over and over again?”
Mercedes pauses and looks at me, giving me the approval to have an opinion. I shrug. “Maybe it’s the thrill of not knowing what’s to come,” I reply and throw my leg over and stand to stretch. “We get bored if things stay the same for too long.”
I look down and see her eyes staring at the bit of skin peeking out on my abdomen. Good God, I really wish I could just fuck her. Just once. Just to know what she feels like. Her softness to my hard. I’m certain it would be incredible.
“Do you think men feel that way about women?” she asks, her lids fluttering with nervous blinks as she looks up at me. She’s so small wearing my jacket as a dress with her flip-flops.
“I couldn’t say for sure,” I reply, awkwardly stuffing my hands in my pockets while moving over to a big log that lines the edge of the gravel pit. I sit down on it and look back at her. “But I do think women get blamed for loving drama when men are equally as guilty. We get away with calling it macho.”
Her flip-flops slap noisily as Mercedes makes her way over and sits beside me so we’re both facing the sunset now. I glance over at her. Her cheeks are flush, and some freckles have sprouted across her nose, probably from sun exposure.
She tucks her knees up inside my jacket and rests her chin on top of them. “Do you want to tell me what you mean by that, or do you want to say ‘word’ again?”
I half-smile, marveling a bit over how easily she can read between the lines. I suppose that’s writer’s intuition, to see the signs.
Exhaling heavily, I reply, “Eventually, I hope that every cryptic thing I say in my life won’t all circle back to my ex.”
Mercedes smiles, her dimple peeking out from the collar of my jacket. “Probably, but life lessons come from hardship, so spill it, Miles.”
I growl and run my hands through my hair, feeling the strands sticking up every which way. “I think I stayed with my ex so long because I liked the drama on some sick level. It was stupid.”
She nods thoughtfully, processing what I’ve said before asking, “What kind of drama did you guys have?”
I lift my eyebrows and shake my head up to the sky. “You name it, she probably did it. But the thing I hated the most was when she’d try to make me jealous.”
I glance over just in time to see Mercedes wince in sympathy. “Yeah, jealousy is no fun. Although, I will tell you, from a purely romance writing profession point of view…my readers love a possessive man.”
I chuckle at that. “Well, there’s being possessive, and there’s being made a fool of. Unfortunately, I think I was the latter more often.”
She shakes her head from side to side and wrinkles her nose. “Your ex sounds horrible.”
“So does yours.”
“Why did we ever date them?”
“I ask myself that all the time.”
She pulls her legs out of my jacket and stretches them out in front of her to cross them at the ankles. She gazes out into the sky for a moment before saying, “Well, a fun way to look at our exes is that if we hadn’t dated them, then we wouldn’t be right here, sitting on this tree, and enjoying this incredible sunset.”
Mercedes waggles her brows at me and turns to watch the last few inches of sun dip down behind a faraway hill.
But I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. Her hair is kind of like a sunset.
She feels me watching. “You’re missing something really beautiful,” she sings teasingly.
My voice is serious when I reply. “No, I’m not.”
Her smile fades, and she looks over at me with wide, wondering eyes. The soft pink sky lights up her face, giving her this angelic glow. She’s enchanting.
Her voice is a whisper when she croaks, “I can’t figure you out, Miles.”
I swallow slowly and reach out to cup her cheek, running my thumb from her cheekbone to her lip, lazily tracing the lines of her mouth. “I can’t figure me out either.”
She inhales deeply when I lean in to taste the lips that I’ve been reliving the taste of all week, but suddenly a motorcycle engine growls loudly up behind us. I freeze mere inches away from her mouth, my hand still on her face, my eyes still trained on her lips.
Swallowing hard, I turn around to see another couple dismounting from their bike, probably up here for the same reason we are.
Clearing my throat, I pull back and offer a sheepish smile to Mercedes. “Should we head back before we lose all the light?”
She looks forlorn and replies, “I’m at your mercy.”
I help her up and get her kitted up and back on the bike behind me.
Away we go, back to Boulder and back to the life I’m currently living…with no drama.