“Well, what do you think?”

I chew on my lower lip and stare at the machine in front of me, trying to decide exactly what I feel about it.

“It’s pretty.” I’m telling the truth. “Is it old?” It looks heavier, more stable, than the motorcycles bikers currently ride while weaving in and out of traffic.

“Not old,” Garret says. “It’s a classic. A 1947 Harley Davidson Knucklebuster. One of the best machines the company ever made. I found her in some guy’s garage—he couldn’t even remember where he’d gotten her—and spent all last winter rebuilding her.”

He did a good job. The bike looks like it just came off the showroom floor.

“When you asked if I wanted to go for a ride with you, I thought you meant in your car. I didn’t realize this was what you had in mind.”

Garret gently massages the small of my back and beams at the motorcycle that’s parked in the slot beside my car. “I just finished getting her all put together last week. Then it did nothing but rain and it was too wet for me to get excited about taking her out. This is an inaugural ride. I thought you might like to be a part of it.”

He’s right. I do. I’d never been on the back of a motorcycle, but I always envy people when I see them riding around on one. They always look so free and so much happier than the rest of us who’ve opted for boring old cars for our transportation needs.

On the other hand, the idea of getting on that thing scares me to death. If we are in an accident, there is absolutely nothing between me and certain death.

“Please,” Garret pleads. “Just a short ride. It’ll be fun.”

I shoot him my best side eye. “Only a short ride, like around the block. And you have to go slow.”

Garret’s solemn expression is ruined by the delighted smile that keeps sneaking out. He uses to fingers to draw an X over his heart. “Cross my heart.”

I suck in a deep breath and hope I’m not making a really stupid decision. “Okay.”

Garret whoops with delight as he unstraps one of the black helmets from the back of the bike. He hands it to me. “Here. I hope it fits.”

“Great,” I mutter to myself as I settle it on my head. “Now if we get in an accident, not only will someone have to deal with my bleeding, mangled body, but they’ll also see that I have helmet hair. Wonderful.”

The helmet feels strange once I have it strapped in place. Something about the way it cups my head makes me feel almost weightless, like I’m actually wearing a space suit and taking my first steps on the moon.

“Here.” Garret, wearing a helmet of his own, walks over to me. He cups a hand on the back of my shoulder and guides me to the built-in second seat. I swing my leg over the bike and straddle.

Garret settles into his seat before me. Leaning forward, I wrap my arms around his waist, linking my fingers together to hide the way they’re shaking.

Garret turns the key. The engine springs to life with a roar that sweeps right through me.

Garret taps the back of my hand and then the bike starts forward.

The parking lot isn’t bad. Garret drives nice and slowly, just like he promised and no one else is driving around in the lot, so I don’t have to worry about anyone hitting me.

I hold on tight to Garret, staring over his shoulder at the road we’re going to turn onto. Has the traffic always gone so fast? Have there always been so many cars?

My heart lodges in my throat and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as Garret makes the turn off the driveway and onto the road.

The strangest thing happens. With my eyes closed, I become less aware of the traffic and potential accidents, and more aware of the little things around me. The smell of Garret’s aftershave, the powerful purr of the engine, the way the bike vibrates between my legs, how good having my arms around Garret feels.

Even though he’s driving well below the speed limit, it hardly takes any time at all for him to make a loop around the block and return to our starting point. He stops the bike, but doesn’t kill the engine. He removes his helmet and looks over his shoulder at me.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I like it,” I confess, surprising myself.

“Want to go for a longer, faster ride?”

“Oh gosh, yes.”

Garret doesn’t have to be told twice.