Page 55 of Trip

I kicked the engine to life, the deep rumble echoing through the cool air.

As we rode the winding roads, the sun glinted off the snow-covered trees, creating a magical atmosphere. C.C. wrapped her arms tighter around my waist, her breath warm against my back. I smiled, feeling her excitement as we approached the town of Rosewood. The quiet streets and quaint shops came into view, the mountain range providing a breathtaking backdrop.

I pulled over by the town square, eager to show her my favorite spot. We dismounted, and I watched as she took in the peaceful scene before us—the old brick buildings, the old-fashioned lampposts, and the charming shops as tourists milled around enjoying the sights.

“This is it,” I said, turning to her with a wide smile. “This is where I first fell in love with this place.”

C.C. smiled back, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and delight. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, before taking a step forward to gaze up at the surrounding peaks. “So different from New Orleans, yet equally captivating.”

“Let’s get some hot chocolate,” I suggested, taking her hand in mine. “Then I’ll show you the best view in town.”

Hand in hand, we strolled down the street to Beth’s coffee shop, the warmth enveloping us the second we entered. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, inviting us to linger.

“Hi, Trip!” Beth, Sarah’s mom, waved as we sat by the window.

“Hi, Beth,” I greeted. “Can I get two hot chocolates, please?”

“Sure thing.” The lovely woman smiled. “You guys sit. I’ll bring them to you.”

“This place is like a Norman Rockwell painting,” C.C. muttered as she looked out the window, observing the quaint town of Rosewood.

“Yep,” I said, watching her.

God, she was beautiful. She was everything I wanted and more. Smart, funny and sexy as all hell. Man, could she drive too. I knew C.C. was going places. She had the gift, and I fucking knew, as sure as she was sitting next to me, that she had checkered flags in her future.

I had that once, then everything changed. As much as I loved the circuit, I couldn’t go back. I didn’t want to. I knew that now. After seeing my parents die, then almost dying the same way, I was done. My life was here in Rosewood with the Sons of Hell.

And God forgive me, I wanted her by my side.

“Here you both go,” Beth declared, placing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate before us. “If you two need anything else, just ask.”

“Thanks, Beth.” I winked at the woman.

C.C. blew gently on her mug, the steam curling upwards and framing her face in a soft haze. “I could get used to this place,” she mused, her voice carrying the warmth of the chocolate she sipped.

I leaned back, letting the familiar hum of the coffee shop settle around us. “It’s got its charm, doesn’t it? The kind of town where you can slow down and enjoy life just a little.”

She laughed lightly, her gaze shifting to the families strolling past outside, some arm in arm, others with dogs tugging excitedly at leashes. “I prefer the fast lane.”

Looking away, I cautiously said, “Life isn’t a race, Cosette. It’s meant to be lived.”

“Trip, I didn’t mean—”

Her apology hung in the air, delicate and unspoken. I knew it was a long shot. Why should she give up everything to spend the rest of her life in some small tourist town when she could have her heart’s desire? She had been crystal clear with me from the beginning. Racing was her life. She wanted the adrenaline rush, the cars, the speed that life had to offer, and I didn’t fit anywhere in that. I never would.

“I know,” I said, cutting the tension with a soft smile. “You’re not ready to take your foot off the gas.”

She studied me for a moment, her sharp blue eyes searching for something in mine. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “Maybe I don’t know how to slow down, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to someday.”

Beth passed by again, her apron dusted with flour, and we exchanged a nod. The rhythm of the coffee shop carried on—a child giggled in the corner, a spoon clinked against a ceramic mug, and the doorbell chimed faintly as another customer entered.

“You can start here,” I said, gesturing to the cozy scene around us. “This town, this little shop—it’s like a pocket of time. No rush, no checkered flags. Just here and now.”

Cosette sighed, a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. She wrapped her fingers firmly around the mug, letting its warmth seep into her palms. “Alright, Trip,” she said, a playful challenge in her tone. “Show me how to slow down.”

I leaned forward, matching her grin. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Twenty-One

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