Page 11 of The Ex Effect
MORGAN
The motorcycle boomed to life with a guttural roar, and I jogged over to it. Riding on the back of Frankie’s murder-mobile was the very last thing I wanted to do, but my family needed me. I tugged on the arm of Frankie’s leather jacket. “Um, I think I need a ride.”
Frankie revved the bike. “What? I can’t hear you.”
Asshole.
I crossed my arms until Frankie killed the engine. “I’m sorry,okay,” I said. This felt terrible.God, I hate apologizing.“I really need a ride, but I have to get the cupcakes to the game. Pretty sure I can’t bring these on your motorcycle.”
Frankie tapped the front of the bike seat. “I have to swap this guy out for Peaches’s truck so I can bring my gear to the farm. I’ll drop you off at the field, pick up the truck, bring the cupcakes to you, then we can ride together to the shoot.”
That all seemed logical, but…this didn’t even have doors! Much less seatbelts or a back-up camera or airbags. It was loud, and scary, and no doubt debris would get all over my clothes. I stared at the beast as my mouth turned dry.
Frankie lifted the helmet off her head and held it out. “Here. Wear this.”
A warmth tingled in my belly with the offer. I had a small urge to say I’d be just fine, but the truth was, I didn’t want to be splattered like roadkill across Highway 61.
Hair be dammed, I pushed the helmet on and threw a leg over the seat.Hmmm.The seat was surprisingly comfortable, but still, I was on a certified death machine. My throat cinched tight. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.Please don’t pass out. I left a few inches between us, and white-knuckled the side bars.
Frankie slid her ass up to me and held her back firm. “Hold tight on to my waist, okay? Try to stay in sync with me. If I lean, just causally lean with me. Don’t wiggle or shift around or try to counteract the balance. And keep your feet on the stand the entire time, even if your body is urging you to set them on the ground.”
Oh damn.That firm, demanding tone… Frankie was not messing around. And Frankie wasalwaysthe person that messed around. Who was this all-authoritative and serious person? The unexpected sensation of Frankie being in control, and me most definitelynotin control, deepened that belly tingle. I pushed forward until my chest was against Frankie’s back and a heavenly scent of something dark and stormy wafted to my nose. I wrapped my arms around Frankie’s waist andmy God… Frankie may have given up on soccer, but she was clearly doingsomething.
Frankie heeled the kickstand and revved the motorcycle andholy hell… was this what motorcycles felt like? Why didn’t every woman own one? Under my ass was a sturdy, constant vibration…Oof… It had been way too long since I had sex with something non-mechanical. I clenched my thighs as Frankie eased out into traffic. Thank God I was wearing jeans today, and not the maxi skirt I’d originally intended. The good people ofSpring Harbors did not need to see my skirt hitching up my thighs as we flew down the road.
Once Frankie picked up speed, I fanned my fingers against her firm stomach, and I swore she flexed under the touch.Show-off. The wind whipped against my neck and lines of goosebumps skittered across my skin. But between my body pressed into Frankie’s warm back, and the beaming spring sun, I was as cozy as if I was on my couch with a chunky knitted blanket.
The soccer field was less than ten minutes away, but by the time we arrived, my legs and arms were shaking like a nervous chihuahua’s.
Frankie cut the engine and scooted forward. “Careful getting off.”
For once, she wasn’t trying to slip in a dirty joke. I tried to stabilize my gummy limbs as I slid off the seat. I tugged off the helmet and patted my head. “Thanks for the lift.”
Frankie lifted her hand and gently swiped what must have been a rogue strand of my hair. “It was, uh, messed up,” she said. When I lifted a brow, she grinned. “The hair. Not the ride.”
Nope, I was not for a second doing this twinkling thing right now. Absolutely no chance. Frankie just did something nice, and I’d essentially had a three-hundred-pound vibrator underneath my hoo-hah for the last ten minutes. Whatever was happening inside me was simply a need for release from facing certain death.
Sparks be damned.
I smoothed back my hair. “Oh. Thanks.” I glanced out at the field. “So, you’ll be back before the game ends with the cupcakes? Please don’t forget. I’m serious. The kids are really counting on them, and I can’t let them down.”
The smile dropped from Frankie’s eyes. “I’m not going toforget. I’m gonna swap out the bike, then go back and get thecupcakes.” She pulled on the helmet with one firm tug. “Toss me your keys.”
I didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but my job was to double, then triple, check everything. Throughout my entire adult life, I could never fully rely on anyone. I was responsible for one of the most important days of people’s lives. And sure, things may have changed since I last knew Frankie, but back in the day she was queen of forgetting everything—her backpack, phone, water bottle for sports practice, extra shoes for the court. I swear half our relationship consisted of me running back to grab things for her, or making a bulleted list of items she needed so she could keep on track.So,excuse me, Frankie Lee, for being a little paranoid that you’ll mess this up.
I handed the keys over and tried to muster up a half-assed apology, but Frankie took off without another word.
The screech of whistles blowing, soccer balls being kicked, and kids screaming snapped my attention away from Frankie’s wordless departure. I hurried across the dewy grass to where the kids were stretching, and Sam was yelling something from a lawn chair. I poked my brother’s shoulder, then plopped next to him on the empty chair.
“Didn’t realize you rode with the Hells Angels these days.” Sam nudged his head to the parking lot. “Where are the cupcakes?”
“Long story, but they’ll be here.” I dropped my purse on the ground and scanned the field. “Where’s your wife?”
“She stayed home. The baby’s still too cranky with her ear infection.” He tugged down the lip of his baseball cap, creating shadows on his scruff. “Just like his auntie.”
I ground my knuckle into his shoulder until he yelped. “Very funny. I don’t have an infection.”
“You don’t need one to be cranky.”
