Page 171 of Delicious

The second he wheels out the old bike, my stomach is in knots. I have no clue how to ride a motorbike and this thing looks like it’s been pieced together from several different ones and has a sidecar that’s more like a wooden crate attached to one side.

“I won’t fit in that,” I say, and he laughs and tosses me a small round helmet.

“That’s for the supplies. You’ll be riding with me. Jump on.”

“On the bike?”

“That is usually how it works.”

“Behind you?”

“Oui, yes, behind me.”

I strap on the helmet, my heart racing, as my whole body vibrates with anticipation. I swing one leg over the back of the bike, and while I was aiming to keep some distance between us, the shape of the seat forces my body to slide forward until my crotch is pressed right up against his ass. Shit. Okay, control your thoughts, you have to control your thoughts or the ride is going to be awkward as fuck.

He kicks the bike to start and then tilts his head over one shoulder.

“Hold on tight,” he says, grabbing one of my hands and positioning it around his waist. His body is so warm. Or is it that all my blood has moved to the areas we touch like a magnet drawn to him? I swing the other arm around him, trying not to be weird about it, but then he takes off, and I can’t help but squeeze him tight, turning my face into his neck as the world zooms past us.

I breathe in his scent, sweet vanilla sugar.

“You okay?” he asks over the noise of the wind and rumbling engine of the bike.

“First time on a bike,” I reply, lifting my head. The wind stings my eyes, and I want to bury my face into his neck again but force myself not to.

I should be cold, but being this close to him, it’s impossible to feel anything but the growing fire in my gut and my groin. Shit. Keep it together.

On the left, we pass fields of long grass with fences and horses and cows just mulling about. A large black cow lies under a tree in the shade up by the next curve of the road, and as the engine revs and we zoom past, it doesn’t even flinch. Must be nice to be that cool and collected. Wonder what that’s like?

Amongst the old farmhouses, barns, and grain silos, it’s impossible to miss one of the newer estates. A smooth tarred road leads up to a giant modern hotel. It’s a stark contrast to the rich natural surroundings. Is that what would happen if I sold Buxton Estate? Something stirs inside me, but then Rémy zigzags the bike around a pothole, and I clench tighter to his shirt.

“Holy shit, careful, man,” I call.

“That was me being careful,” he laughs, and I spot a sign for Beaker Brothers up ahead with an arrow pointing right down a red dirt road. Animal Control has an Alan Beaker, and I’m pretty sure his family has a ranch he and his mates went up to last break. It’s probably just a coincidence. Rémy slows only slightly as we near the sign. He can’t possibly be going to turn at this speed. But he does, and as the bike leans so low to the ground that the crate lifts on the other side a little, I squeeze him tighter.

“Fuuuck,” I cry out as he straightens us up and the crate side reconnects with a skid of its wheels.

“You get used to it, promise,” he tells me.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

I might not be ready to agree with him just yet, but he’s kind of right. It’s weird. The fear has been overtaken by an almost childish excitement, but my heart continues to thump in my ears, nonetheless. The ranch is growing larger, the nearer we get, with the world around us flying past, the wind whipping his curls from under his helmet and brushing against my cheek.

Finally, we slow, and he pulls us up to a stop out the front of a big barn set beside the main house, and I climb off.

The ground feels like water under my feet.

“Wow.”

“Fun, yes?” he asks, and I nod.

“Eventually, yeah, it was.”

He smiles, pulls his helmet off, and shakes out his curls, fingering through them with one hand. I wonder what they feel like. Nope. Stop.

“So what are we picking up from here again?” I ask, trying to stay on task and not let my mind wander to all the places it wants to.

“Many things. Cheese, milk, cream, honey and eggs to start.”

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