Page 6 of The Boyfriend Boycott
Grady glances up from where he’s sitting across from me, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. Ally yawns an exaggerated yawn and pats her belly, which I’m convinced she’s pushing out a bit more for dramatic effect.
“Sorry, Spence. I’m beat too. Absolutely wiped,” she says. “It’s hard growing an entire human.”
“That’s okay, I’m sure Mason won’t mind driving me,” I suggest. But when I look around, Mason has conveniently gone into the cabin to start tidying up the remainder of the s’mores we’ve all consumed far too many of.
“I don’t know. I don’t like it when he’s away from me for too long. In case the baby comes or something.”
What the hell is she talking about? She’s not due for another two months,I wonder, until I catch her eyes dart in Grady’s direction.Fuck me. I should have known.Ally has been trying to play matchmaker for me since we met in grade nine, and she tried to set me up with Todd Pringle.Puke. I learned my lesson toneverlet her set me up again while I sat through an entire movie with Todd’s clammy hands gripping mine.
“I don’t mind taking you home,” Grady chimes in because of course he does.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I protest. “I’m staying all the way out at the provincial park. It would be out of your way.”
“Nah. It’s only a few minutes up the road from my place.”
I plaster on a casual smile. It has become abundantly clear that I’m not going to weasel my way out of this. I can endure another fifteen minutes of pretending that I don’t want to climb Grady like a tree. While straddling him on the back of his motorcycle. Sure. No problem.
“Great, thanks.” My voice comes out an octave higher than I’d like, and I just hope Grady doesn’t notice. The sparkle in his eye as his mouth forms that cheeky grin says otherwise.
CHAPTER 3
GRADY
Crickets chirpin the tall grass, audible now that everyone else has gone home for the night. Ally and Mason have retreated inside the cabin, leaving Spencer and I alone in the driveway. It’s dark save for the glow of the moon and the porch light attracting some dizzy-looking moths. The air has chilled and Spencer is shivering in her camisole.
“I have an extra jacket on my bike if you want,” I offer, opening the compartment on the back that houses my helmet and my leather bomber jacket. I feel less nervous around her now, having sat across the firepit from her all night. It was like exposure therapy if I had a phobia of beautiful, intimidating women. “And you’ll need this.” I hand over the jacket—which she accepts and throws over her shoulders—and my helmet. She loosens the messy bun that her hair has been falling out of all night, and the red waves are finally free to cascade over her shoulders in a way that makes my breath catch in my throat. Her hair is still wild, falling down her back as she clips the helmet on under her chin.
“What about you? Don’t you need a helmet?” Spencer looks between me and the bike. I pull my baseball cap out of my backpocket and throw it on backwards, the way I like it, so it doesn’t blow off in the wind.
“Sure, I normally wear one. But I’ve only got one, and we have to make sure that pretty little head of yours is protected.” I place a hand on the top of her head and wobble the helmet around. “Besides, we’re not going far.”
I offer Spencer my hand, and she takes it to balance on one of her long, lean legs as she throws the other over the bike and scoots herself up onto the seat behind mine. I climb up after her and stick the key in the ignition.
“Ever been on a motorcycle before?” I ask.
“Uh, does a moped in Rome count?” Spencer lets out a nervous giggle. I cock my head, contemplating the similarities between a moped and the Harley beneath us. There aren’t many, save for the fact that they both have two wheels.
“Sure,” I lie. “Just be prepared for a few more horses underneath you.” I kick up the kickstand, pull out the clutch, add some throttle, and we’re off.“Hold on, tight,” I shout over my shoulder. I feel the muscles in her thighs flex, squeezing me tighter. Her hands wrap around my waist sending a thrill through my chest that I don’t think is from the roar of the bike this time.
Spencer lets out a shriek as I lean to one side to round the corner, and her fingers curl and grip my T-shirt. Goosebumps spread out from the concentrated spot where her fingertips graze my abdomen.
“You’re alright,” I reassure her, calling out over my shoulder. “Just lean with me next time.” I catch her nod in my side mirror. She closes her eyes and takes a calming breath, and the corner of my mouth quirks up at the thought of how nervous she is behind me. Spencer doesn’t seem like a woman who is ever nervous, and I wonder if it’s the bike or me causing that reaction.
We round the next bend, the quiet street belonging only to us as I weave around the gentle curve. Her weight shifts with mine and we take the corner much smoother this time.
“Atta girl. You’ve got it.” I can’t help but flick my eyes down to my side mirror again, just in time to catch a smile spread across Spencer’s face as she closes her eyes and lets the wind caress her skin. Her body is less tense, and I can tell that she gets it now, why I ride. That feeling of pure freedom.
The entrance to my driveway is a blur as we whizz by and continue along the road that leads past my house and to the provincial campground. I down shift as we approach, and the sudden drop in our speed makes Spencer’s hips buck against my back. I’m suddenly acutely aware of how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman so close to me. It’s not that I’m against dating, I’ve just had other priorities. The dating pool in a town like Heartwood is small, which means that, for the last few years, I’ve been in a strictly monogamous relationship with my right hand. I see no need to mess with a good thing.
My mind wanders for a moment, wondering how it would feel if she was straddling me like that from the front. But the fact that she’s Ally’s best friend makes her just a little off-limits. Not totally unacceptable, but unacceptable enough that I shouldn’t be entertaining thoughts like that.Just drop her off and go home. It’ll be better for everyone.
“This is me,” she says, pointing to a camper van parked on a gravel pad. It’s nestled in the trees, the woods around it pitch dark except for the twinkling glow of the fairy lights Spencer has strung up on the canvas awning. The effect it gives is homey and warm, like she’s made the best out of the fact that her house is on wheels.
I pull the bike into the campsite and come to a stop, neither of us making a move to get off just yet.
“I should let you off here,” I start. “I was always taught never to go near a stranger’s van.”
“Am I a stranger?” Spencer’s raspy voice hums in my ear. For all intents and purposes, Spencer is a stranger. This is only our second interaction, ever. I know nothing of significance about her, only that she doesn’t stay in one place for long, so it may be in my best interest to keep it that way. That was the primary reason I didn’t make a move on her when she stayed at my place. I knew that once I entertained the idea of Spencer, I’d fall hard and fast.
