Page 100 of Craving Francesca

“What’s she singin’?” he asked in amusement.

“Does it matter?”

“She’s singin’ Fleetwood Mac, you’ve got a problem. Anythin’ else, and you’re good.”

“The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“She only sings Fleetwood Mac if she’s upset. Never fuckin’ fails, man. She’d stay over with Myla, and everyone could hear her in the bathroom. Used to drive the boys crazy when they were teenagers because it’d get stuck in their heads for days.”

“Doesn’t sound like Fleetwood Mac,” I replied, grinning.

“Good news. I’ll keep you updated, yeah?”

“You got the email I sent you?”

“Yup. Impressed by the scope of what you had on him.”

“I had some time.”

“Clearly.”

“She stopped singin’.”

“Then I’ll let you go. Have fun.”

Mick hung up just as Frankie strode out of the bathroom in the jeans she’d worn the night before and a black tank top.

“I’m ready,” she announced, dropping the bag on the bed.

“Come grab a doughnut,” I said as she stepped into her boots.

“Fuck, I forgot they were there!” She hurried toward me and threw open the box. “How many people were you planning on feeding?”

“Wasn’t sure what you’d want.”

“Jesus,” she mumbled, stuffing a bite into her face. “Are you real?”

“Doughnuts are cheap.”

“I like the maple bars,” she said, wiggling the doughnut from side to side before taking another bite.

“Same.”

“Okay, next time just buy those.” She grinned at me with her mouth closed as she chewed.

It took four hours to get there, but when we finally pulled onto the 101 headed south, her arms tightened around my waist in excitement. It was damn near impossible to hear each other, I should’ve thought to grab us some headsets—but every time she saw something that she liked, she’d point it out. I was pretty sure I’d heard aholy shitat one point as we rode beside the ocean.

We stopped for some lunch and fuel in the Redwoods, but we didn’t linger long. Frankie wanted to be on the bike, and I couldn’t say I disagreed with her. It was fucking gorgeous outside. The wind off the ocean kept us cool, but the sky was an endless blue. Perfect weather.

By the time we pulled into a motel that night, I was beat, but Frankie was practically fucking glowing. She’d pulled off her helmet before I was even off the bike.

“That was the best day ever,” she said, lacing her fingers through mine as I led her toward the lobby. “Sex in the morning and then riding all day? Let’s do this every day. Who cares about work? We’ll just keep going until we run out of money.”

I grinned and leaned down to kiss her as we reached the front desk.

“One bed,” Frankie announced to the receptionist.

I looked over at her, and she smiled widely.

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