Chapter 18 #2
How dare he treat me like I’m one of them, like I’m supposed to just let him follow someone else’s dream and not say something?
Fisting my hands, I lock the bolt, then go back to my room and shut the door.
I lean against the back of it, and my blood is boiling.
I go to open a window, needing the fall air to help me cool down, but stumble over something sharp.
Looking back, I see what stabbed my foot—keys.
Harbor’s keys, to be precise. I recognize the Maserati fob on the keychain.
Who’s laughing now?
Not me because I’m still too mad to find the humor in him being stuck outside without his keys to help him avoid having a real conversation with me.
My phone buzzes on the desk and his name flashes on the screen before it goes dark again. It seems his arrogance still gets the better of him. But I’m not going to stoop to his level.
With the keys digging into the palm of my hand, I walk out of my room again, unlatch the bolt, and cut through the entry, landing outside on the sidewalk and looking around for him.
I’m left shocked again when I see him riding my bike down the street. How dare he!
Unbelievable. He’ll let his pride win before resolving things with me? Good to know now before I sink even deeper into this relationship.
My anger morphs as my stubbornness kicks in.
I stomp in my bare feet and the cold air straight down the path to his vehicle.
I’ve seen him unlock it several times and don’t struggle with that part.
It’s the starting of the engine that I can’t figure out.
I sit in the driver’s seat, the leather chilly against the back of my thighs and ass, searching for where I stick the key.
A button labeled “engine” stares back at me, so I put my foot on the brake and press it. The car purrs to life and music streams from the speakers. I didn’t take him for a rock guy, but I guess we haven’t dated long enough to find some of these things out.
Thank God it’s an automatic. I never did master my dad’s truck. It was just easier to ride my bike everywhere.
I put my seat belt on and then shift into drive.
This car has power, and if I’m not careful, she’ll take over and I’ll lose control.
Looking ahead, I don’t even see Harbor anymore.
I drive slowly at first as I get accustomed to handling it.
I stop at the stop sign at the corner and then keep rolling forward.
I know the general direction he lives in, although I’ve never been there.
Scanning every street I pass, there’s no sign of him until I get a block shy of downtown. He’s sitting at a red light, waiting for it to turn green. How does that even make sense when he just stole my bike?
I don’t know why I find it funny but seeing that big guy sitting on my pale-blue bike with that white seat, a few streamers still attached to the handlebars fluttering in the breeze, puts a smile on my face.
I roll up behind him, keeping enough distance to keep him free from my headlights, and then lay on the horn, which startles him so much that he almost falls off.
Upset and flailing his arms, he swings the bike around and moves into the breadth of light from the car, saying all kinds of things that I can’t hear over the music filling the interior.
The light turns green, but he stays exactly where he is. With no other cars in the area, I pull up next to him and roll down my window. “You stole my bike.”
“You stole my car.”
With the accusations thrown out, our eyes narrow as if we’re determined to win a staring contest. Neither one of us blinks. But we can only do this for so long, so I blink and let him win this round. “You left me because I called you out on that bullshit.”
“I didn’t leave you, Lark. I left the situation.”
He’s still sitting on my bike like he intends to ride it.
It’s not exactly an even exchange, but he doesn’t budge or make a move to get me out of his car.
I rest my arm on the door, my elbow hanging out, like I’m settling in for the night knowing I have the sweeter deal right now. “Same thing, Harbor.”
“I didn’t leave you. I swear.” His tone is as genuine as his expression.
Giving up the fight, he gets off the bike and comes to the open window.
Kneeling beside the car, he rests his hands on my arm.
“I made the decision to honor my cousin and my family a long time ago. You may not understand why, but it was something I’ve come to terms with before ever meeting you. ”
The stubborn wind leaves my sails because secretly, I like the way he feels with his hands on me like I’ll slip away if he doesn’t hang on. And because his eyes never lie to me, I believe him.
I let out a deep breath, my body eased against the seat, and say, “Okay.”
He stands with his hands still on me and says, “I’m sorry. Relationships are new for me. I’m not making excuses. I’ve really just never had to consider someone else’s feelings. I want to change. For you.”
“I don’t want you to change for me.” I’m freezing, but I try to keep my teeth from chattering. “I want us to learn how to handle these situations together.” I fail, and my chin trembles.
He notices the goose bumps popped on my arms and cups my jaw. “Let’s get you back home.” He says, “Pull over there and roll up the window. Crank on the heat. I’ll take the wheel off and get the bike in the back.”
I do as he says ready to be warm again. A few cars stop to offer him help, but he’s become a master at deconstructing my bike and fitting it in the car. When he comes around to the driver’s side, he opens the door for me to get out.
I say, “I’m good to drive home.”
I don’t think he hears me because he’s staring at my legs.
Looking down at my lap, I realize the shirt isn’t as long as I thought, just covering my butt and barely reaching the top of my thighs.
His eyes lock on mine, and then I see him take a long, slow breath.
On the exhale, he says, “We need to go.”
He runs around the vehicle and gets in on the other side. “Hit the gas.”
I don’t.
The last thing I’m going to do is wreck this very expensive car. Harbor accuses me of purposely torturing him. “Going the speed limit isn’t a slight against you, babe.”
As soon as I park at the curb, he grabs the bike and wheel hanging out of the trunk and runs it to the side of the house before I’ve even locked the car and set the alarm. Standing at the front door, he says, “Shake a leg, baby.”
I do.
I shake my ass, too, realizing that I might just get my wish, after all.