Page 178 of Better When Shared
I watched him secure his pads around his knees, then pull the chest protector over his head, showing me how it fit. I followed suit, struggling with the many straps.
“Here, let me help.” Before I could protest, Makai was in front of me, his fingers deftly adjusting the chest protector, tugging at straps to tighten them. I held my breath, hyperaware of his proximity, the faint scent of saltwater and sunscreen that clung to him.
My ongoing fantasy shifted a little as I thought about what he’d said in the trailer. What if instead of watching them fuck, I participated?
“You want it snug, but not so tight you can’t breathe,” he explained, oblivious to my discomfort. His hands moved to my shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze. “There. Perfect.”
I exhaled as he stepped back. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He grabbed two helmets from a shelf, plopping one on my head and adjusting the chin strap. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath feathering across my lips, see the plush softness of his lips.
I wanted to kiss him. That was new. And startling.
“Once we get these on, we’ll be ready to roll.”
I couldn’t even remember why he was putting a helmet on me. The entirety of my brainpower was committed to stopping my body from dissolving into a puddle of pure lust as he straightened the chin strap and his fingers brushed across a sensitive spot on the inside of my neck.
Five minutes later, we were outside the barn, straddling the dirt bikes while Makai explained the simple controls. The machine between my legs was silent, nothing like the roaring engines I’d expected when he’d mentioned dirt biking.
“It’s like riding a bike,” Makai assured me. “Except with a throttle and foot pegs instead of pedals. Twist gently to accelerate, squeeze the levers to brake. I’ve got you set on the lowest power setting, so you can get a feel for it.”
“Grandma mode?” I asked.
He laughed, the sound so genuine it made me smile despite my nerves. “Yep. You’ll be begging for more power after five minutes, trust me. Maybe then we can move you up to cautious uncle mode.”
I burst out laughing and shook my head. “I think I’ll stay at Grandma, thanks.”
“Noted. Ready?”
I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway, because what else could I do? Disappoint him? Makai twisted his throttle and shot forward with ease, glancing back to make sure I followed. I took a deep breath, gave the throttle the gentlest twist I could manage, and nearly toppled over as the bike lurched forward.
“Easy!” Makai called back. “Smooth movements!”
I tried again, more carefully this time, and the bike responded with a steady forward glide. I followed Makai onto a dirt trail that wound away from the barn toward a line of trees, my initial terror giving way to cautious enjoyment. The bike handled better than I’d expected, responsive to the slightest adjustment of my weight or twist of the throttle.
As we rode deeper into the property, I relaxed into the experience, even daring to go a bit faster on the straightaways. Makai stayed just ahead, occasionally looking back with an encouraging nod or thumbs-up. The wind rushed past my helmet, carrying the scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed earth. It was... quite fun.
I watched Makai navigate the trail with effortless grace, leaning into curves, standing on the foot pegs over rougher patches. Nothing seemed to faze him, not even my panic attack on the kayak. He adjusted and moved forward, like water flowing around obstacles.
His easy confidence and his ability to meet life on its own terms were something I envied.
The meadow opened up before us, tall grass rippling in the afternoon breeze, dotted with wildflowers that blurred into streaks of color as we sped past. I twisted the throttle, thrilling at the bike’s immediate response as it surged forward. This was grandma mode? I wondered what the sporty mode would feel like.
Ahead of me, Makai raised his hand in a stopping gesture, slowing his bike and pulling off the trail. I followed suit, wondering why. As we coasted to a halt, I saw a figure jogging along the trail ahead of us—a woman in sleek athletic wear, honey-blonde ponytail bouncing with each stride.
My heart stopped.
Imogen.
She spotted the bikes and paused, squinting against the sun. Recognition crossed her face, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Makai. Her expression shifted to one of irritation. I laughed to myself, thinking about the way she’d lectured him yesterday for parking in the middle of her photo shoot.
She marched over to him, hands planted on her hips. “Is there anywhere on this island you don’t show up?”
Makai laughed, removing his helmet and running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “It’s a small island, Wedding Lady. We’re bound to cross paths.”
I remained frozen, still straddling my bike, unable to make my limbs cooperate. This was the moment I’d been planning for days, yet nothing had gone according to plan. I was supposed to surprise her in a debonair way—I still hadn’t come up with a concrete idea for that, but it didn’t involve stumbling over her on a dirt bike set to grandma mode. It was a good thing I had on a helmet and all this gear.
Imogen’s eyes shifted to me, narrowing as she registered my presence. I saw the moment she recognized me, her lips parting in shock.
