Page 30 of My Secret to Protect

Coming to a stop, I take a breath as Bree releases me and hops off like she can’t wait to get away from me.

‘Where are we?’ she asks, taking off the helmet and handing it to me, and I shrug.

‘Open your damn eyes, sugar. Where in the hell’s it look like we are?’ Goddam, that was southern. A week in a small town has me putting the south in South Carolina.

‘Quit it with that,’ she snaps, and I hold her gaze, waiting for more. ‘Calling me names: sugar, short stuff.’

‘Okay, I hand it to you, you’re not as sweet as you once were, but you are still short, pix.’

Shaking her head, she turns away, and I hear her take in a deep inhale. I watch as her shoulders raise up and lower down, and I pull out a blanket, lay it down on the grass at the base of an old oak tree, and sit, leaning back against the trunk while Bree stares out at the gentle river passing by in front of her.

Closing my eyes, I listen to the sounds of the water, the forest around us, and the bugs and birds as the sun starts to shove the clouds out of the way so she can make herself known, and then I hear the sob. It has my eyes flying open and watching her with concern. I don’t move, but I tense as her shoulders curve, and her arms wrap around her middle, giving herself a hug as she cries, and it hits me in the gut. Bree Campbell is not a crier. She’s the strong one, the ballsy one, so the sound of her soft sobs affects me in a way it shouldn’t, not anymore.

‘Bree,’ I call out as softly as I can, but it’s still enough to see her shoulders rise up. Fuck.

Pushing myself up to stand, I walk over to where she stands and pull her into my embrace. Immediately, she turns and presses herself into my chest, her arms tightening around my back and the sweet scent of her shampoo filling my nose.

‘You okay?’

‘I’m so tired, Arlo. I just can’t sleep right now. God, this is embarrassing.’

‘Nah, it’s not. We need sleep. Without it, everything goes to shit. You want to talk about anything?’

Stroking my hand over her hair, running my fingers down her braid, I work to steady my pulse as she seems to come to her senses and pushes away from me.

‘No, I don’t want to talk about anything.’

She turns back to the water, and I walk away and return to my spot on the blanket, the feel of her hair seared into the skin of my palm as I tense and relax my fingers to try and force away the stupid as fuck imaginary sensation. Her hair didn’t burn your skin, you dick. Get it together!

‘Come sit down, Bree,’ I say as I pull out the breakfast I packed in the saddlebags. ‘You need to eat.’

Bree’s gaze comes around to see the waffles in Tupperware and the bottle of chocolate sauce slung onto the blanket.

‘You brought waffles?’

‘I knew I wasn’t giving you time to eat this morning.’

Slowly, as though I’m a snake in the grass and she’s nervous to get too close, Bree makes her way to the opposite edge of the blanket and kneels, and I pull out the thermos of coffee.

‘Okay, boy scout,’ she raises one eyebrow, ‘what’s with the picnic and the bike?’

‘What do you mean the bike?’ I look at my girl, and Bree follows my gaze.

‘It’s massive, Arlo.’

‘You ain’t the first to say it, sugar.’ I wink as I turn back to her, smirking, then laugh at the expression on her face, the roll of her eyes.

‘Yourold bikewas a lot smaller.’

‘And I was a lot younger when I rode it,’ I admit, letting my head drop back against the tree as she eyes me seriously.

‘You don’t wear your cut anymore.’

Shaking my head, I respond. ‘I’m not a part of the club anymore. Hence the bike. I don’t need fast these days. I need comfort and convenience.’

‘You could just get a minivan.’

That makes me laugh loudly. ‘I’m a forty-year-old biker, Breanne, not a soccer mom.’

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