5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Nate
T aylor returns with the pizza, and we eat. I’m surprised when Adalie doesn’t say anything about the kind of pizza we got. One is all meat, the other has peppers on it, but is also mostly meat. She says she won’t be having another beer because she’s kind of a lightweight and figures she should have her wits about her if I’m giving her a ride home.
Taylor shoots me a surprised look at this information, so I explain how I’d offered since her sister stood her up.
I don’t mention that I’d noticed the way her eyes filled with tears or that those tears—that hadn’t even fallen—had torn me apart.
Taylor looks down at her legs and I want to smack him upside the head, until he says, “The shoes should be fine. But she’s going to need some pants.”
“We have all your old stuff upstairs,” I say, because I had also considered that. Though when I checked out Adalie’s legs, I didn’t have purely practical intentions in mind, as Taylor does right now. He’s demisexual, for fuck’s sake. He’s not immediately attracted to people. Like I apparently am.
“What do I need pants for?” Adalie asks.
“Bare legs on a motorcycle don’t mix,” Taylor says. I let him do the talking. He’s better at it than me, anyway. “You could burn yourself on the tailpipe.”
She shivers. “I knew motorcycles were dangerous. That’s not something I thought I’d have to worry about.”
Taylor laughs. “You don’t need to worry about anything. Nate’s been riding since he could walk.”
She looks at me for confirmation.
“Not quite that long. But our dad taught me to ride before I learned to drive. He also taught you to ride at the same age.” I cast a look at my brother, who shrugs.
“Yeah. But you’re older, so you’ve been doing it longer.”
“So you ride motorcycles, and you play hockey,” Adalie says, pointing to a picture of me and Taylor with our men’s league hockey team that we hung up after last season’s win in the playoffs. “What else should I know about you?”
Taylor tells her about a few of our other hobbies: snowboarding, mountain biking, hiking.
“You should talk to Spencer about hiking,” she says. “He loves to hike. Does the Grouse Grind like every week in the summer.”
“We don’t do it quite that often,” Taylor says. “More like once a month. And every year we try to get out to the Chief and do the full hike at least once.”
“Isn’t that a really long one?” she asks, looking at me. She’s done this a few times, looking at me for an answer as though trying to draw me into the conversation.
“The whole thing takes about seven hours round trip,” I answer.
“But Nate likes to do a little more extreme things sometimes,” Taylor says. “Tell her what you like to do, Nate.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”
But with Adalie looking at me, her green eyes sparkling with interest, a smile on her lips, I tell her—all the while thinking that smile is going to get me in trouble.
I clear my throat. “I’ve been bungee jumping a few times.”
Taylor scoffs. “A few. He goes up there and everyone knows him by name.”
“Really?” Adalie asks. “Where do you go?”
“Whistler. It’s just south of the ski resort.”
“I didn’t even know there was bungee jumping in Whistler. I know there’s one in Nanaimo.” Her smile is playful when she says, “I heard people go naked there. Do you jump naked?”
Taylor laughs, but I’m suddenly imagining Adalie naked and can’t seem to move past the thought.
“No,” Taylor answers, getting up. “They don’t do that in Whistler.”
He goes over and locks the front door. We still have a couple customers finishing their drinks, but to make sure no one else comes in, we lock the doors at closing. Taylor stops by the table where the last customers are, chatting with them, while I get the image of Adalie, naked, out of my mind.
“Are you sure you want to give me a ride?” she asks. “I can just order an Uber.”
The idea of having her pressed against my back, her arms wrapped around me as we ride, has my dick twitching in my pants. Dangerous thoughts, certainly, but I’m not going to try to lie to myself and say I don’t want to do it.
“I’ll give you a ride.” I raise my eyebrows. “Unless you’re chickening out?”
She narrows her eyes. “I’m not.” She fluffs her curls, seeming completely unconcerned. “I just don’t want you to go out of your way if you don’t want to.”
I shrug. “I like riding. It’s a nice night, and I haven’t been out much over the last few months. I’ll take you home.”
The excuse works because it’s all true. I do like riding, it is a nice night, and I don’t ride much during the winter months. Though the real reason I want to take her has nothing to do with wanting the extra time on my bike.
When Taylor leads the last customers out the door, I take Adalie upstairs, rummaging in one of the closets.
“What is this place?” she asks, wandering throughout the space.
“It’s an office and storage area now. But when we started Hops Scotch, Taylor and I lived up here. For the first three years after we started the business. Then Katie settled on a neighbourhood she wanted to raise Dani, and Hops Scotch was going well enough that Taylor and I could afford a mortgage if we went in together, so we bought our house.”
“Katie is Dani’s mom?”
I find what I’m looking for and turn to her. “Yeah. We still keep a few things here we don’t need often. I use the storage space at home for my home brewing system. Try these on.”
I hand her a pair of leather pants. She takes them skeptically.
“Whose were these?”
“They were mine and then Taylor’s a long time ago. We’ve been saving them for when Dani’s a bit bigger, but they should fit you okay.”
She sits and pulls them on, and I watch as those sinful legs disappear beneath the black leather. I can admit to myself I’m sad to see them go. She stands to pull the pants up under her skirt and I turn back to the closet, finding the padded leather jacket and helmet we’ve also kept for Dani.
“You’re not going to get Dani all new things if she wants to ride your motorcycle?”
I snort, handing her the jacket to put on. “Of course I will. But do you know how fast kids grow? I buy her something today and she’s grown out of it next week. Plus, Katie forbid her from riding on the bike until this year. I wasn’t certain she was ever going to allow it, to be honest.”
Adalie zips up the jacket. “Why do I need all this, anyway? Don’t people just climb on the back and go?”
I eye the outfit critically. It’s a little baggier than I’d like, but it’ll do. “Sure, in books and movies. But in real life, if you’re riding with me, you dress for the slide, not the ride.”
“Dress for the…”
I pause my inspection, and notice she’s gone pale, eyes round.
I take the two steps toward her, bending to catch her eye. “We’re not going to fall,” I tell her when she meets my gaze. “It’s like wearing a seatbelt. Do you get in your car expecting to be in an accident?”
“No.”
“But you still put your seatbelt on, right?”
She nods.
“Same logic.”
She blinks a few times, her shoulders relaxing, then says, “Okay.”
Her faith in me is an aphrodisiac that goes straight to my head. I am suddenly desperate for the taste of her lips beneath mine, the feeling of her body pressed against me.
I take a step back.
“We’re good to go,” I say and lead her downstairs again and out to my bike, where Taylor is waiting next to his. He has a BMW R 1250 R. It looks a lot sportier than my Harley, parked just beyond.
Taylor takes a second to check over Adalie’s outfit as I had upstairs. “Try to tuck the skirt into the jacket or something. I’d be afraid it might get caught.”
Adalie immediately does what he says. As soon as it’s gone, she doesn’t look like herself. She’s soft and colourful and vibrant. Right now, she’s dressed in all black and I’m about to put a black helmet on her head, covering up all that glorious red hair. I’m surprised at how much I want her back the way she’s supposed to be.
I walk past Taylor to my Harley. After Dani, and sometimes my brother, it’s the thing I love most in this world. A Fat Boy 114, it’s bigger than Taylor’s bike and I climb on, turning to where Adalie has paused, looking at it with trepidation.
“Change your mind about that ride, princess?”
Her eyes shoot to me, fire flashing in them, as I suspected would happen. This woman is up to a dare.
She shoves the helmet onto her head, and I fire up my bike, revving the engine a couple times, just for the sheer pleasure of hearing it. Taylor helps Adalie onto the back, pointing out where to keep her feet and legs so she doesn’t get burned by the exhaust pipes.
“You’re going to want to hold on to him and try to keep your weight as still as possible,” Taylor says over the sound of the bike. “Nate knows what he’s doing with a passenger, but you’ll make it easier if you shift your weight with his. When he’s turning, it might feel like you’re going to tip over if you lean into it, but it won’t. Trust Nate. He won’t let you fall.”
Then he taps her helmet and steps back. “Have fun, you two. See you at home.”
He puts his own helmet on, and I ride out of the parking lot ahead of him. As I accelerate, I hear a panicked sound from Adalie behind me before her arms tighten around my waist. I can tell when she gets used to the ride, because her arms loosen, and she relaxes against my back. She feels as good as I thought she would. I’m tempted to take a longer route to her apartment, or just ride aimlessly for a bit before I bring her home. But I follow the route I’d looked up before we left and in less than fifteen minutes, I’m slowing, pulling off to the side of the road, stopping by the sidewalk in front of her building. I cut the engine, and she hops off, removing the helmet while I do the same. I can’t help but smile at her when I see her grin.
“That was amazing!” she says. She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her dress has fallen out of the jacket and floats around her hips, twisting with her movement. “I can’t believe I did that. It was so much fun. It felt like we were flying.”
Her eyes are alight with excitement, and she bounces toward me, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing her lips to mine. Before I can kiss her back, which I absolutely want to do, she backs up, her eyes wide now.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t—I got a little carried away.”
But I want more. I need her to get more carried away. I climb off the bike as well, my gaze focused on her and those lips. She doesn’t back up, staring at me as I reach for her, her eyes drifting closed when my fingers brush her cheek before sinking into those fiery curls. I dip my head to hers, claiming her mouth, invading it.
And she opens to me. Her hands slide up my chest, linking behind my neck. Her tongue dances with mine, inviting me to stay, to make her mine. When I bite her lip and she sighs, melting against me, my cock hardens instantly. I want to take her upstairs to her bed. I want to wrap those legs around my hips.
I catch myself before I slide a hand down her body to her ass. As much as I want to, I need to put an end to this. She’s a bright little flower. I’m a gruff asshole with a horrible track record with women. Someone like Adalie doesn’t belong with someone like me.
I bring the kiss to a close, scanning her face, the way her eyes remain shut, her lips remain parted, like she’s not quite returned to herself. It makes me want to kiss her again.
“Good night, Adalie,” I say.
Her eyes blink open. She hasn’t let me go, and I haven’t either. We just stand there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, until suddenly, she steps back, looking away as her face flushes in a pretty blush.
“Good night, Nate. Thank you, um, for the ride.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Anytime, princess.”
Her gaze shoots to me for a second before it darts away again. “If you don’t mind, I’ll bring your things to you later.” She waves a hand down her body, indicating the leather clothes.
I retrieve her purse from where we’d put it in one of my saddle bags and give it to her, watching as she walks toward her front door. She glances over her shoulder at me, our eyes meeting before she goes inside.
I put my helmet back on and get on my bike, starting it and riding to my house. The whole ride home, I can’t stop thinking about the softness of Adalie’s lips, how her body had felt against mine. When I stop at my house and walk my bike into the backyard, I remind myself that she’s not my type. She is, in fact, the antithesis of my type. We’re all wrong for each other. It would never work and now we’re in business together.
I go inside, finding Taylor on my couch, his feet propped on my coffee table, a beer in his hand.
“Watch TV in your own damn house,” I say, pouring myself a beer from one of my two beer taps and kicking his feet off my table before flopping down next to him. He’s watching a hockey game.
“Your TV is bigger,” he says.
It’s the third period and the home team is down by one.
We watch in silence for a bit, and I’m happy about it. I spend the time imagining red, curly hair between my fingers and soft lips pressed against mine.
“Are you going to ask her out?” Taylor asks.
I turn my head toward him so fast my neck hurts. “What?”
He watches me from the corner of his eye. “You just seemed kind of into her tonight. And on Friday. I haven’t seen you look at a woman as much as you looked at Adalie… ever.”
“She’s not my type.”
The buzzer sounds, indicating the game is over and Taylor stands.
“You’re right. She’s not your type. If there were a hundred women in a room with her, she’s probably the last one you’d go after. Then again, considering your track record with relationships, maybe that’s a good thing.”