Page 43 of The Overdue Kiss

“It’s too dangerous for you to ride in this.”

“Ah. Switching things up, are you? Now you’re trying to save me.”

“I’m serious, Des.”

“I’ve ridden in wet conditions before. It’s not fun, but I can handle it.”

“I don’t like it. Not one bit. You’re in all black while riding a black motorcycle in the pouring rain. It’s an accident waiting to happen. I’d worry about you the entire time.”

“Yeah?” His easy smile stretches across his face. “I kinda like having you worry about me.”

His cavalier attitude only bristles me more. I step toward him, our helmets nearly touching. “And I like keeping you in one piece. Stop smiling at me.”

“I can’t help that I’m enjoying this. Normally nobody cares if I come or go. It’s nice to matter.”

Some of my anger fizzles out, and the need to protect him returns.

“I care about you.” My eyes widen at my confession. It’s true. A poorly timed one that I don’t want to discuss dripping wet on Julia’s porch. It’s then that I realize I’m still holding his hand. I drop it, leaping away from him in what I hope is a subtle manner.

His inquisitive gaze tells me it was not.

“Before we go inside, we should leave our wet things here so we don’t make a mess.”

Des nods, but a glint of something flashes in his hooded eyes. Something that makes my heartbeat stutter and knees weak.

“So you know, I care about you too.” Leaning forward, he reaches for the strap of my helmet, unlatching it with ease.

“I can do it myself,” I whisper.

“But where’s the fun in that?”

He’s flirting.I know for a fact that I’m not imagining it.

I take a step back and turn around, removing my gear and resting it on one of the rocking chairs. I take the opportunity to catch my breath and right my thoughts. Five seconds on the bike with this man and I’m a bumbling mess. When I turn back, Des has removed his gear too and observes me quietly as he waits.

We enter the cabin to the sound of pots and pans clanking in the kitchen. I flinch, as the noise reminds me of my teenage cousin’s new garage band.

“Welcome to Julia’s,” I announce and take the Tupperware from him. “This is where all the cookie-making magic happens. I might have a few cookies left from the last batch. You can warm up while you wait here for the rain to stop.”

“Maya? Is that you?” Julia calls out.

Des follows me around the boxes to the kitchen, and we both stumble to a stop at the green monster before us.

“Holy guacamole. Desmond. Hi. You’re in my house,” Julia rambles from behind the counter, her chestnut hair piled in a messy bun and her face covered in some green goop of a facial mask. She shoots me a look that screams she will murder me when there are no witnesses around. “Sorry for my appearance and the state of my home. I, uh, haven’t gotten around to unpacking yet.”

“I’m sorry to intrude. It started to rain on the way over, and since I took the bike, Maya invited me in to wait it out.” He clears his throat, shifting from one foot to the other. “It’s probably already stopped by now. I’ll just be on?—‍”

“Oooh, I thought you were here to discuss taking Maya to her mom’s birthday party this weekend.” The corner of her mouth lifts in satisfaction at my narrow stare. She certainly knew I didn’t tell him about it.

Touché, Julia. Touché.

“Party?” He raises a brow and turns to me in question. “You need a ride?”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I’m going to take an Uber into town.”

“A rideshare?” he sputters. “Absolutely not. I’ll take you. There are too many weirdos who drive those things.”

“You’ve already done too much for me . . .”

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