Page 44 of Golden Touch
When I look at Livia, who’s smart, fierce, and beautiful—the whole package—I wonder who made her feel like even a little bit of trouble is too much.
CHAPTER 18
LIVIA
The wind licks my body as we shoot up the highway toward Colebury again. I tuck my face against Nash’s strong back and inhale leather and springtime air.
I’ve been here before, and I don’t mean the back of a bike. I’ve beenemotionallyhere before—clinging to a strong man who’s taken the reins of my life in hand. How easily I’ve handed them over tonight. I didn’t even put up a fight when he told me to come along with him to the store, because I didn’t want to be alone.
That’s the worst reason to do anything. But I’m tired and scared. I needed a timeout on my life, even if only for a few hours.
It wasn’t until we were standing in the aisles of Home Depot that I realized everything Nash set out to buy was forme. He’d done a quick but entirely accurate assessment of the brewery’s worst security flaws, and he’d set about to do his best to fix it. And just thinking about it brings the unwelcome sting of tears to my eyes.
I’m not a crier. I can’t afford to be. It’s got to be the wind on my neck. I haven’t ridden on a bike in so long that I’m not used to it anymore.
That must be it.
Nash takes a smooth, banked turn to exit the highway and Iinstinctively lean into it. I miss the rush of a motorcycle ride. The high. But I can’t forget the last time I felt it—on the back of another guy’s bike. One who would just as soon strangle me as love me.
I can’t lose sight of the facts. It doesn’t matter if a guy is hot or fun, or if he pretends to play the role of the hero. That means nothing in the long run.
It’s even possible that Nash is the real thing. But he’s not going to bemyreal thing. I’ve already made all the mistakes I can afford, plus a few extra beyond that. I’ve already lost too much to men who treat me badly.
So what if riding on the back of his bike feels like flying?
And so what if he’s making sure the locks on the doors will hold up past a sharp lurch of Rotty’s shoulder against the doorframe? Nash is the landlord, more or less. If he wants to improve the property a little bit, I shouldn’t let it go to my head.
Nash takes an unexpected turn before we reach the brewery. He starts winding the bike up a hill, and for a moment I’m confused. But then I realize this is Lyle Giltmaker’s road. He moved into a log cabin after his divorce, and I’ve never seen the place.
Five minutes later we come to a stop in front of the dark house. Nash kills the engine, and I let go of him and sit back.
“All right, we need a vehicle. So I’m borrowing my dad’s truck. You want to drive the truck or the bike back to the brewery?”
I stare through the helmet visor at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No?” He lifts his helmet off and frowns at me. “We need a vehicle, for groceries and such. Your car has to stay hidden.”
“I got that part.” I take my helmet off, too. “But you aren’t seriously offering to let me ride your bike.”
“Sure I am.” He frowns again. “I drove your car. Fair’s fair. Are you saying you can’t handle it? Took you for an old pro.”
I just blink. Because Razor would rather lose a testicle thanallow a woman to ride his bike. Any woman. And here’s Nash offering me the bike.Fair’s fair. “Actually, I’m a little rusty on the motorcycle. I’ll drive your dad’s truck.”
“Suit yourself. Let me grab the key out of his kitchen.”
I take it from him when he returns, and I open the driver’s side door.
“Livia?” He’s still holding his helmet under one arm. “Give me a five-minute head start, okay? I want to look around the property before you show yourself.”
I give a little shiver in spite of myself. “Okay, sure. Good thinking.”
Ten minutes later, I pull into the lot. Nash is waiting in the pumphouse doorway for me.
“All clear, pussycat,” he says cheerily when I reach the door. “Now let’s MacGyver some shit. I’m going to grab some tools from the main building. You okay here a second?”
“Of course.” But I make sure to scoot my nervous ass right into the kitchen and lock the door behind myself. And then I turn all the lights on downstairs, one by one, just making sure I’m alone.
Damn that Rotty. And damn Razor most of all. I used to feel relatively safe here, and now I don’t.
