Page 22 of Darlin'

"Means that when we turn a corner," he explains, accelerating down the driveway, "you lean when I lean. If you don't, we could crash. Okay?"

"Crash?! Oh my God, we're going to die," I whimper, my palms sweating against his leather vest as he turns onto the dirt road, the uneven ground vibrating the entire bike. "Oh, I don't wanna die."

"Relax, princess," he shouts back at me. "You've got a helmet on. If anything, you'll just be partially paralyzed."

"Oh my God," I cry out, closing my eyes as the cool wind nips at my cheeks. I forgot to put the visor down! Jesse revs the engine again, this time nearly doubling the speed. My heart drops to my stomach as my grip tightens around his waist, my head spinning from fear and nausea.Am I holding on too tight? I'm gonna suffocate him, aren't I?! "Holy freaking shit balls!"

"Lean, princess," Jesse yells, and my eyes spring open. Oh, crap. A corner. Whimpering, I slowly lean toward the left, attempting to mimic Jesse's body movements. "Good girl. See? We didn't die."

"I hate this," I whine, my ass sweating as I count down the seconds in my head. It's only like a ten-minute drive. I can do this. I won't cry. I won't bethatgirl. "Are we there yet?"

"Just enjoy the ride," Jesse shouts, and I close my eyes again, unable to dissect how this mode of transportation could possibly bring joy to millions of people.

All is well. I'm okay. All is well. I'm okay. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. All is well. I am safe. All is well. I am freaking safe. Inhale. Exhale?—

"Savannah." Jesse clears his throat. "We're here."

"We are?" I open my eyes to find that we're no longer in motion. No longer on the brink of death. Oh God, we're parked. Parked! "I'm alive!" With wobbly legs, I struggle to dismount the bike. "Oh, great heavens." I hold my chest, looking up at the clear blue skies. "We made it! Thank you, sweet baby Jesus."

"Seriously?" Jesse asks, raising a brow as he holds out his hand and nods to the helmet. "We barely went over fifty. Tone it down, princess."

"Feltlike ahundred," I grumble, removing the helmet and handing it to Jesse. I rake my fingers through my tangled hair, cringing as I tug on the newly formed knots. "It's like a nest up here."

"You look fine." Jesse sighs, clipping the helmet to the handlebars. He sucks in a sharp breath, scratching his chin as he watches me attempt to untangle my hair. "You ready?"

"What?" I ask, blinking. Reality catches up with me as two inebriated middle-aged bikers stumble out of the swinging bar doors, slurring their speech as they discuss one of the supposedly fuckable waitresses inside.Oh boy.Swallowing, I read the vinyl sign hanging above the entrance. "The Flying Hog?" I look over at Jesse, fiddling anxiously with my fingers. "You name it?"

"No, my gramps did," Jesse explains, nodding at the drunken men as we pass them on our way to the front doors. "Passed it down to my mom and me after he croaked."

"Oh," I hum, waddling behind him as pebbles of gravel slip in between my toes. "So it's a family establishment?"

"Wouldn't say that." Jesse chuckles, swinging open the doors and revealing what I can only describe as a devil's refuge.

My shoes stick to the checkered tiled floors as crackling classic rock blares from the outdated sound system. Neon Miller, Pabst, and Budweiser beer signs light up the dim and shoddy interior. The kitschy decor is accompanied by three chalkboard panel menus and a seventies jukebox tucked in the corner of the room.

Jesse opens his arms, scanning my distraught features. "Welcome to The Hog, princess."

"It's..." I grimace at the fraying leather booths and cracking table tops as Jesse waves over a red-headed girlwearing a tight, white t-shirt with SOS printed across the chest in old English font. "It's nice. Real nice."

"Mar!" Jesse barks as the server rolls her eyes and weaves through the bustling dive bar toward us. "Marlow! Get over here."

It's only 10 a.m.! Why is it so busy in here?

"Morning, JP," Marlow chirps, tossing Jesse a wink as she stops in front of us. Her forehead creases and she crosses her arms, her notepad dangling in the air as she scowls at me. If looks could kill, I'd be chilling with Nana right now. "Who's the Barbie?"

"This is?—"

"I'm Savannah.” I hold out my hand as an invitation to bypass this silent girl competition. "I'll be helping out behind the bar for the next few days."

"Uh-huh." Marlow eyes my hand warily before turning to Jesse. "She come with plastic packaging?"

"Be nice," Jesse says, giving her a knowing smile. Dickhead. "She'sRad'ssister."

"You're shitting me, right?" Marlow asks, gaze flitting down the length of my body as if she's searching for a hint of resemblance. Three years ago, she wouldn't question that statement, but given how Beau looked in his mugshot, her apprehension is justifiable. "Rad has a sister? No fucking way. He would've told me about her." She flashes me a tight-lipped smile. "He tells me everything."

"Might wanna watch your tone, Mar," Jesse teases, giving me a cheeky side-eye. "That's your future sister-in-law you're talking to."

I nearly collapse on the ground.

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