Chapter 4
Hand in Hand
Motown
The last customer exits the shop, and I see Tessa tidying up, as she always does.
But she seems more hurried than usual. I see her emptying the wastebasket, which contains the roses Bronson brought her this morning.
The pressure in my chest eases somewhat with the knowledge that Tessa’s not considering dating that douche.
She shouldn’t be going out the back alley alone to dump the garbage, though.
I move around the back of the shop just as Tessa opens the door.
She shrieks when she catches a glimpse of a big man in the shadows. When I step forward, she lets out a sigh of relief. “You scared the dickens out of me,” she chastises. “What are you doing out here? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“You shouldn’t be out back on your own. It’s getting dark,” I answer.
“So, what, you’re teaching me a lesson?” she snaps, taking the lid of the can and putting the bag inside.
“I’m picking you up for our date.”
She spins on her heel and glares at me. “You decide it’s time for another go at me, and you think I’ll comply like all the other women you’ve slept with? Is it my turn? Am I up on rotation?” Tessa juts out a hip and sets her hand on it. “Well, no, thank you!”
“Tess—”
“Save it. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to one night. I won’t demean that night, because for me, it was beautiful.
” Her voice goes soft. Then she clears her throat and continues.
“But I learned that I’m not the kind of woman who can separate her feelings. To me, sex isn’t just fucking.”
Christ! She’s fantastic! Even when she says fuck, she’s adorable.
“Babe—” I try to cut in once more.
“We had a magical night, and for that, I thank you. But I can’t do it again.” She turns to walk away. She’s about to leave, and I consider that I could let her go and move on with my life, and she with hers.
I gently grab her arm and turn her to face me.
“I haven’t been with anyone since that night with you.
You shouldn’t be with a man like me. You deserve fancy restaurants and a big house with a froufrou dog, not a biker like me.
I should let you walk away, but you haunt my dreams, and I can’t get you out of my head.
I fucked up by leaving that night. I knew I should have come to see you and talk to you, but I didn’t know what to say.
” I move her closer to me. “Everything you do makes me want to be with you. Even when you give me attitude, it only makes me want you more.” I wrap my arms around her, pulling her flush against my body.
“I make no promises, baby, but I’ll do my best to make you happy. ”
She braces her hands on my chest. “I need time to think.”
“You don’t,” I insist, for fear that Tessa will find another reason to push me away.
“You hurt me,” she whispers.
“I know. I’m sorry, Tess. I’d like to say I won’t do that again, but I won’t lie to you. I’m going to mess up, but I’ll never walk away again without talking to you.”
“Motown—”
“Matthew. My name’s Matthew Hockley. My brothers call me Motown because of my taste in music. It’s my road name, and that’s what I’m known as to everyone. When it’s just you and me, I’m Matthew. Okay?”
“Matthew,” she says, looking up at me with wide eyes, and her lips slightly parted. I could kiss her, but I know it’s too soon. I need to ease us back to where we started.
“Let me take you out for a ride. We’ll go slow,” I urge.
“A ride. Where?”
“Anywhere.”
I let her go, then take her by the hand and lead her back through the shop. I make sure the place is locked up tight. She’s quiet, but doesn’t ask me to leave, and when we lock the front door, she places her hand in mine as we walk toward my motorcycle.
Tessa
I must be crazy to let Motown back into my life, but I believe him. We walk hand in hand to his motorcycle. It’s parked right next to my car. I try to let go of his hand, but he only holds on to it tighter.
“Get on, babe,” Motown says.
“I can’t get on your motorcycle. I’ve never ridden before.” I look down at my flowy dress. “I’m not dressed for it.”
“I’ll follow you home. You can get changed, and then we can go for our ride,” he says. He opens my door and waits for me to pull out of the lot, then follows me back to my home. Once we’re back at the house, Motown stands at the front entrance. “I’ll wait for you here.” He sounds nervous.
“Motown, please come in,” I say.
He steps inside, and I smile. He’s always been so sure of himself. It’s strange to see him so tentative.
He furrows his brow. “That’s not a good idea, Tess.”
“Why not?”
“I like being here. Too much.” I stare at him, confused. He adds, “We’re slowing things down, and if I come in, I’m not going to want to leave.”
This takes a moment to sink in. The thing is, I like Motown in my house.
He wants to slow things down for my sake.
It’s sweet. I knew he could be sweet. That night he drove me home, I found out he was funny and really smart, but not pretentiously so.
He has plenty of life experience, and he sees people for what they really are.
“Okay. I’ll just be a minute,” I tell him, then hurry to my bedroom, feeling his eyes on me as I go. I quickly change into a pair of jeans and a baby-pink T-shirt. I grab a hair tie and pull my hair back into a ponytail, then slip on my sneakers.
“Don’t forget a jacket,” I hear Motown call out. I nab a jean jacket out of my closet and come back out to see him in the exact spot I left him.
His lips curve into a smile. “You get more beautiful every time I see you,” he says. I want to race into his arms and kiss him. I crave the feel of his whiskers and his lips moving over mine. The kiss today reminded me of how good his mouth felt on mine.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Thank you,” I say shyly.
He leads me back to his bike and hands me a helmet.
He helps me secure it in place, then gets on the bike before guiding me on behind him.
“Gotta hold on tight,” he says, then links my fingers together after wrapping my arms around his waist. “We’ll go slow.
If it’s too much, tap my arm, and we’ll slow down and stop for a while. ”
He revs the engine to life, and a surge of excitement pierces me.
I’ve never considered riding a motorcycle.
My adrenaline is pumping, and when Motown pulls out and we’re moving down the street, out onto the road, I think I’m addicted.
Or maybe it’s because I’m pressed tight to Motown, holding him close, and I can feel the warmth of his body.
Whatever the reason, I think I could do this for hours.
We ride along country roads and around a lake. It’s dark, but the moon shines bright and reflects on the water. All is still around us. The peaceful quietness surrounds us. Eventually, we make our way back to my house.
“How’d you like your first ride?” he asks as he walks me to my front door.
“It was amazing! Can we do that again?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s how I felt after my first ride. It took me two years before I could build a bike for myself, but once I had it, I was on the road as much as I could be.”
“You built that bike?” I ask in amazement, looking over at the beautiful machine.
“Not that one. I bought that one but made modifications to suit me. I still have my first bike. It’s old, worn, but it still purrs when I start it. I should have gotten rid of it years ago, but it reminds me that I can do whatever I set my mind to.”
We reach my door, and I look up at him. “Would you like to come in for coffee?”
“Nothing I’d like better, babe. But I won’t.
I have a hard time keeping my hands off you as it is.
I want to treat you right. So, I’m going to kiss you good night, then wait for you to lock your door, then go home and wait for tomorrow to come so I can see you again.
” He lifts his hand to my cheek to move a stray tress of hair behind my ear.
“I like you, Motown,” I tell him softly.
“Ditto, beautiful. There’s a lot about me that you don’t know.
My life wasn’t easy or pretty. I’m not going to get into it tonight because, for the first time in two months, I feel good, and I’m not going to taint this moment with stories of my past. I got to walk hand in hand with a pretty girl.
I’m going to kiss her, then I’m going home. Okay?”
“Okay,” I respond quietly.
His lips move over mine. Our kiss is slow, teasing and light at first, but I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him tighter to me. I open my mouth, and his tongue slips in and playfully toys with mine, until Motown finally breaks our kiss.
“You’re enough to tempt the devil himself, siren,” he murmurs against my lips. He rests his forehead on mine, closing his eyes. “Tomorrow, I’ll swing by and bring you your favorite double espresso mocha latte before I head into the shop.”
I’m stunned. “You know what I drink?”
“Not gonna lie to you. Since that night, I might not have come to see you, but I’ve been watching over you. I tried to forget you, but I found myself driving by your store or house, just to make sure you were all right.”
For two months, Motown was watching me, and he waited until now to come to me. “Why now?”
“Because I can’t imagine anyone else holding your hand,” he answers. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
He takes my key and opens my door, letting me in. Motown waits for me to lock it, and I watch through the window as he rides away.