Chapter 6
Chapter Six
brOOKS
It’s a nice day, and with fall pretty much here, there won’t be many days left to ride my motorcycle before it gets too cold and the snow flies.
I’ve been putting in long hours at work, so I took the afternoon off and decided to ride around the valley.
I took backroads from Bitterroot Valley over to Silver Springs, breathing in the fresh mountain air, feeling the bike beneath me, and letting the sun bake me a little.
I need to work on forgetting a certain blonde who’s had my attention for more than two decades. I’m still pissed at myself for buying the flowers for the porch. It was stupid.
But the following morning, when she walked past, she smiled. Her whole gorgeous face just lit right up, as if it were fireworks at Disney World.
And dammit, I’d do it again.
Fuck.
There I go thinking about her again.
I drive through Silver Springs, slowing down as I pass through the downtown area. It’s a tiny town, even smaller than Bitterroot Valley, and within minutes, I’m out on the highway, headed for home.
Slowing to go around a tight corner in the road, I notice a car broken down on the shoulder, and when I narrow my eyes, I see that it’s Jules sitting in the driver’s seat.
Crying.
Motherfucker.
Checking my mirrors, I slow and make a U-turn, then circle back and come to a stop behind her. After setting the bike on the kickstand and removing my helmet, I make my way to the passenger door so I’m not close to traffic and tap on the glass.
Jules startles and screams, but when she sees it’s me, she hits the mechanism to unlock the door, and I pull it open.
“Hey.” I frown as it looks like she’s fighting to catch her breath. “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head and wipes the tears from her cheeks. “Not good at being spooked. Fuck.”
That’s new.
“Whoa. It’s okay, it’s just me. Take a deep breath. Breathe with me, Jules.”
She’s not looking at me, but she follows my direction, pulling in a deep breath with me. After the third one, she’s calmed down considerably.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
“What happened?”
She bites her lip and won’t look me in the face, and I fucking hate that. I realize that I don’t just want to know what happened right now, to put her here at the side of the road, I want to know what happened to make her startle so bad, and every other moment from that day so long ago.
But for now, I’ll settle for why she’s sitting on the side of the road.
“My car sucks,” she finally says, her breath shuddering. “I just picked it up from that asshole in Silver Springs, and it already broke down again.”
Unease moves through me, followed quickly by anger.
“Pop the hood.”
“Oh, you don’t have to look. I’ll call a tow—”
“Pop the fucking hood, Wildfire.”
Her eyes widen at the use of the old nickname, and she reaches below the steering wheel to pull the lever. I walk around the front and push it up so I can see what’s going on.
And what I see is a huge fucking mess.
This engine looks like it’s being held together by duct tape and cotton swabs. Who the hell was the mechanic, MacGyver?
Knowing there’s nothing I can do right now, I close the hood and return to the passenger side, resigned to taking her with me.
On my bike.
Pressed up against my back for miles, just like the old days.
“Who did the repairs?”
“Barry in Silver Springs did it every time.”
I tilt my head. “How many times have you had it in to him, Jules?”
“Oh, geez, a half dozen? It always breaks down again. This time, I think it’s really dead. The noises were horrible. I’m more than six grand into repairs—”
“You’re fucking what?”
She jumps and then blinks at me. “Sorry. TMI. I’ll call—”
“I’ve got this.” Jesus, I’m going to be making a trip to Barry’s garage, and I’m going to teach him a goddamn lesson. And get her money back. “I’ll tow it to my garage and sort it out. And I want you to show me everything he did.”
“Uh, how am I supposed to do that?”
“I assume you have receipts?”
“Sure.”
“I want to see them. Come on, you’re with me.”
Her jaw drops, and for a moment, she just blinks at me.
“You’re on your motorcycle.”
Yeah, and you love it.
“Problem?”
“I don’t have—”
“I have everything you need. Let’s go, Juliet.”
I close the door and walk back to the bike. Seconds later, she opens her door, checks for traffic, then joins me, with her purse in her arms.
I stow her purse in my saddlebag, and set my helmet on her head.
“I know it’s too big, but it’ll keep you safe the rest of the way into town.”
“What about you?” She stares up at me as I adjust the chin strap. Christ, I haven’t been this close to her in so fucking long. Her skin is warm and smooth where my fingers brush her chin as I adjust the strap, and it makes my dick twitch.
“I’ll be fine.”
She frowns, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she says, “Please drive safely. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Fuck me.
“I always drive safely. I don’t have a leather jacket on me, and I’d feel better if you were wearing one.”
“I’m all out of leather jackets,” she says with a half smile. I eye her T-shirt and jeans. At least she’s not in shorts, but I’d rather she were wearing a coat of some sort to protect her arms.
Jesus, I’m going to drive ten miles an hour.
“Brooks, we’ll be fine.”
I nod once and climb on the bike, kick up the stand. Jules swings her leg over and settles in behind me, the way she always did, but she keeps a few inches between us and doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands.
“Hold on to me, Jules.”
“But—”
“It’s fine. You have to hold on to me.”
Tentatively, and with shaky fingers, she wraps her arms around me and holds my stomach. Her breasts press against my back, and holy fucking shit, it’s like coming home for the first time in decades.
It’s like taking your first breath after coming up out of the water when you’ve almost drowned.
After starting the engine, I press my hand over hers.
“Hold on,” I remind her.
“I will,” she says.
When I look back at her, her blue eyes are big, and her cheeks are flushed. I know I’m not the only one feeling all this emotion.
As I take off, she yelps and then laughs with joy behind me, her hands clenching against my abs, and I can’t help but smile.
Jules always loved the bike.
I can see her in the side mirror, smiling, her face tilted up at the sun as she enjoys the wind blowing through her hair.
Christ, she’s beautiful.
That hasn’t changed.
If anything, she’s gotten more gorgeous with time. She’s not the girl I once knew anymore. She’s all woman, with more curves than before. More shadows in her eyes.
I slow as I pull into town, and to my absolute surprise, Jules tips her face forward and rests her cheek on the center of my back.
It makes my chest ache.
Yet, at the same time, I’m not ready to let it go.
So instead of taking her home, I drive through the residential areas of town, and she doesn’t say a word. Her grip on me has loosened a bit since we’re not going as fast.
When I go to take a turn, I reach back and lay my hand on her thigh, keeping her in place. Dammit, that feels good. She scoots a little closer to me when we come out of the turn, and I let go of her.
Because this isn’t real.
I’m giving her a ride home, and that’s it.
Setting my jaw, I drive behind the restaurant and cut the engine. Jules hops off the bike, and I follow. She starts to fumble with the strap of the helmet, but I step up to her, brush her fingers away, and unfasten it myself.
Her baby blues watch me.
“Have you ridden much over the years?” The question surprises me. I don’t really want to know if she was wrapped around some other asshole the way she just was with me.
“Not since the last time you took me,” she admits. “I think I missed it.”
I’m relieved. I have no right to be, but I am.
“Come on,” I say, gesturing to the stairs. “Let’s go up.”
“What? Why are you coming upstairs?” She takes half a step back from me, and that has me narrowing my eyes.
“To see the receipts and to make arrangements for your car.”
Could she bring those to me at the garage? Sure. But I want to see her place. I shouldn’t, and I’ll hate myself for it later, but I can’t help myself.
“I probably have stuff lying about.”
“No, you don’t. I know you. Let’s go.”
Jules hates clutter. There’s no way her place is messy. And even if it is, I don’t give a fuck.
“Thanks for the stairs,” she says as she leads me up them. “It helped a lot.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She huffs out a laugh, making the side of my mouth tick up.
“Sure, okay. Well, thanks anyway.”
She unlocks the door, and I notice she has two deadbolts. Not one. Our town might have its fair share of crime, but it doesn’t usually warrant that kind of security.
What are you afraid of, Wildfire?
But I immediately forget about the locks when I get a look at her apartment.
Oh, fuck no.
The walls are bare to the studs. No insulation or drywall. The electrical and plumbing are exposed. She has a little area sectioned off for a kitchen, but it only has a portable fridge and a microwave. No sink.
She has a bed and a nightstand on one side of the room. A single chair with a coffee table by the window.
It’s stuffy up here. The floor is made of wood, but not the kind of hardwood most people use in homes.
This isn’t an apartment.
This is a goddamn storage attic, and it is not good enough for my girl.
She’s not your girl.
“I have a folder with all of the receipts,” she says, pulling my attention away from the fact that I hate with all of my fucking soul that this is where she lives.
Not my problem. She’s not my problem.
She opens a drawer on a short, two-drawer filing cabinet and pulls out the folder, then walks back over to me, and we move over to the window so that I can see better.
It’s fucking dark up here, and it’s the middle of the day.
It’s also hot, and Jules opens the windows, letting a breeze blow through. It had to be sweltering up here in the heart of summer.