Page 51 of The Run Option

“I’ve never ridden on a four-wheeler,” I confess as I follow him down the porch steps. My granddaddy always called these kinds of vehiclestoysand never saw a need for them.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of you,” he says with a soft smile that heats me from the inside out. I’m reminded of hiswords from our wedding day:I’ll take care of you, Lo, if you’ll let me.

I answer with a reluctant nod, then watch as he swings one long leg over the vehicle. He puts the key in, then pulls something on the handle before looking at me. I bite my lip as I cross the remaining distance. He holds out his hand. I grab it and use it for leverage as I swing my leg over the same way he did. I try to keep some space between us, but there isn’t much.

“You’re going to want to hold on to me,” he says as he grabs the handlebars.

“Is that real advice or do you just want me wrapped around you?”

I can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “Both.”

I shake my head, but a smile already tugs at my lips. I wish his ridiculous flirting didn’t work so well on me.

Though I know it’s a mistake, I wrap my arms around his torso. I can feel the hard planes of his ab muscles through his henley. They tense at my touch. I keep my grip loose, but quickly tighten it when we take off more quickly than expected.

We drive to the side of the pasture, the horses’ heads following us as we go. I squeal when we take a hill like it’s a ramp. My stomach rises then falls. It’s like being on a rollercoaster.

Jason’s laughter floats on the breeze as he purposefully takes another hill faster.

“You’re going to throw me off!” I yell over the whipping wind and rumbling engine.

“Not if you hold on,” he calls back. Even over all the noise I can hear he’s being cheeky. All the same, I do hold on tight, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. The cold air bites at my face and burns my lungs, but I’m smiling the whole time.

We skid to a stop and I laugh as my heart pounds. I haven’t had this much fun in a while. He gestures toward the fenced-in field we’re now at the back of.

“That’s where we keep the horses, as I’m sure you noticed. Though I do try to take them on the trails often, too. I’ll show you the stables on the way back.”

He starts driving again, but slower this time. I’m able to relax my arms and unclench my fists. I don’t let my hands fall to my sides though. He could take off at a moment’s notice. It has nothing to do with how nice it feels to lean against him.

“And this is our garden,” he says as we pull up to a smaller fenced-in area.

My stomach swoops.Ourgarden? He can’t mean what I think he means.

“Do you have people who work the farm?” I ask, trying to confirm thatourmeans him and someone else that isn’t me.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m capable of planting a garden myself.” His voice is light, but I worry I’ve offended him.

“No, it’s just–” I hesitate. “You saidourgarden.”

My face heats. I’m so glad he’s facing away from me right now.

Jason places a hand on my interlocked arms. “As in, yours and mine.”Is that trepidation weaved within his tone?“If you want it to be.”

His words sound like more than offering for me to tend a garden with him; they resemble the offer to tend the metaphorical one Augustus spoke about on our wedding day. But that can’t be right, can it? It’s much too soon for him to feel that way. He must be trying to make me feel at home in an odd situation, that’s all.

“That could be nice,” I say, cringing at how awkward I must sound.

“I think so,” he says in a low voice. Then he squeezes my wrist once before returning his hand to the throttle. “You ready to head down some trails?”

I tighten my grip. “I’m ready.”

Jason takes off again, this time toward a small gap in the trees. I squeeze my eyes shut as we get close, not entirely confident we’ll fit. But we do, and the air chills even more as we disappear into the shade of the forest.

We wind through the trees at a fast pace. I try to take everything in with wide eyes, but it’s mostly a blur of browns, oranges, and reds. That is, until we come upon a clearing.

Jason slows to a stop, more gently this time. I hadn’t realized that we were climbing higher the whole drive. I was too busy hanging on to notice. He cuts the engine, and I take that as my cue to hop off. I wobble a little, my legs feeling strange after the ride. Jason grabs my arm while I find my bearings.

“Thank you,” I murmur, meeting his deep emerald gaze. He merely nods, his hat dipping with the movement. My stomach dips too.

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