Page 11 of Rampage

"You have a normal life now," he says. "Or you're building one, anyway."

"Is that what this is?" I gesture between us. "Normal?"

A smile tugs at his lips. "There's nothing normal about me, Lily. But this—two people getting coffee, talking—that part's pretty standard."

I laugh softly, surprising myself. "I guess it is."

"When do you need to be back at the diner?" he asks, glancing at his watch.

"I don't. It's my day off."

His eyebrows rise slightly. "The whole day? What were you planning to do with it?"

"This," I hold up the mystery novel I purchased. "And probably takeout later."

He seems to consider something, then says, "There's a place about twenty miles from here. By the lake. Good food, better view. If you wanted something different."

My pulse quickens. "On your motorcycle?"

"It's how I get around," he confirms. "But we could take Deb's truck if you'd prefer. I'm sure she'd lend it to you."

The memory of last night's ride flashes through my mind—the freedom, the wind, the unexpected thrill of it. "The bike is fine," I hear myself say.

Reid tries to hide his smile, but I catch it anyway. "Finish your coffee. I'll wait outside."

When I join him a few minutes later, he's leaning against his motorcycle, helmet in hand. The afternoon sun catches in his dark hair, and for a moment, I let myself acknowledge how attractive he is, not just physically, but in the quiet confidence he carries.

"Last chance to back out," he says, offering me the helmet.

I take it, my decision made. "I'm not backing out."

The ride is longer this time, and I find myself relaxing against Reid's back as we leave town behind. The highway stretches before us, bordered by pine trees and rolling hills. I watch the shadows dance across the pavement as we speed past, my arms wrapped securely around Reid's waist.

By the time we reach the lake, the sun is beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the water in shades of gold and copper. The restaurant sits on a small hill overlooking the shore, its wooden deck extending out over the water.

"It's beautiful," I say as Reid helps me off the bike.

"Thought you might like it." He leads the way up the gravel path to the entrance.

He takes off my helmet gently, running his hand down the side of my face and tucking my hair behind my ear.

The touch sends a shiver through me that I can't blame on the evening breeze. I should step back, maintain the careful distance I've kept from everyone for the past year. Instead, I find myself leaning slightly into his hand.

"Thanks," I murmur, suddenly shy under his intense gaze.

Inside, the restaurant is warm and inviting, with wooden beams crossing the ceiling and large windows overlooking the water. The hostess leads us to a table on the deck, where the sound of small waves lapping against the shore creates a peaceful backdrop.

"I've never been out this far," I admit, looking around at the unfamiliar landscape. "It's like a different world."

"That's why I like it," Reid says, settling into his chair across from me. "Sometimes you need perspective. Distance."

I understand what he means. The farther we drove from town, the lighter I feel.

"Do you come here often?" I ask.

"When I need to think." He picks up the menu, but his eyes remain on me. "Or when I want to show someone something special."

The implication hangs between us, and I busy myself with my own menu to hide the blush creeping up my neck. We order drinks—just soda for me, and I notice Reid does the same—and food.

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