Page 109 of Huckleberry Hill
I looked up at him. “What’s going on, Declan? Where’s this coming from?”
“You’ll think I’m insane.”
“There’s a good chance I already think you’re insane.”
His mouth flickered like he tried not to smile. “I wanted to talk to you—about everything that happened last night. And I wanted to do it in person, so I went to the main house and your grandmother told me you went out with Wade. That’s all I heard. Went out with Wade. She told me where you were. Before I knew it, I was getting on my motorcycle and I . . .”
“You thought I was lying,” I said quietly. “When I told you I wasn’t dating Wade, you didn’t believe me. And why would my grandmother tell you where I was and not clarify that I’d gone out with Wade to be his wingman?”
“I don’t know.” His brow furrowed. “I just know I got . . .”
“Jealous?” I supplied.
He sighed. “Jealous.”
“Has your frontal lobe returned from vacation?” I teased.
“Starting to.” He kept his hold on my hoodie. “I know you can drive home. And you probably should.”
“I’ll ride your motorcycle with you on one condition,” I said.
“Name it.”
“You tell me the truth.”
He frowned. “Truth about what?”
“About why you really came here tonight. You know I was telling the truth about Wade, so why are you here?”
“You’re right.” His hands released the hoodie, but only so they could cradle my cheeks. “I just wanted a reason to see you. Especially after how we left things last night.”
We stared into each other’s eyes, but even in the dark night with the illumination of the streetlamps, I saw the intensity in his gaze.
I squeezed his wrists, and he let go.
“Home?” he asked.
I nodded. “Home.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Ranch
* * *
The motorcycle ride was exhilarating, and unlike any experience I’d ever had. Declan had put a helmet on me, made sure it was tight enough, and then told me to climb on behind him. I’d wrapped my arms around him, enjoying the feeling of his strength beneath my fingertips.
He guided the motorcycle with ease, and I felt safe despite the danger. In a way, it was no different than riding a horse. You trusted that a thousand-pound animal capable of throwing you wouldn’t, and on the motorcycle you trusted going seventy-five miles per hour wouldn’t be the end of you.
We zoomed up the driveway to the ranch and he parked the motorcycle on the side of the cabin. He cut the engine and put down the kickstand.
I sat there for a moment, letting the silence of the night soften the buzzing in my ears. I unclipped the helmet and climbed off the bike.
“Well?” Declan asked, unclipping his helmet and removing it before getting off.
“Incredible.” I handed him the spare helmet. “My teeth are still vibrating though.”
He grinned.
