Chapter 2
TWO
JESSE
I’ve been on my share of first dates.
Plenty of them have been set-ups.
Dates my sister set me up on. Dates friends insisted would be “good for me.” Dates that started with awkward handshakes and ended with polite excuses and zero desire to ever do it again.
None of them prepared me for Mindy.
She stands there in hot pink spandex and cycling shoes, staring at my bike like it might suddenly grow teeth, and all I can think is that she’s beautiful in a way that sneaks up on you.
Big blue eyes, wide and expressive, framed by dark lashes that make every emotion easy to read.
Long brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail that exposes the graceful line of her neck.
Soft curves that make my hands itch to touch.
Full hips. Full breasts. A body that looks strong and feminine and very real.
And right now? Very, very tense.
“I thought you meant—” she starts again, gesturing at herself.
“Cyclist,” I finish for her, smiling despite myself.
“Yes.” She huffs out a breath. “That. Exactly that.”
I chuckle, because the misunderstanding is adorable. Not in a condescending way. In a this is a woman who walked into the unknown because she said yes to life way.
“I should’ve been clearer,” I admit. “That one’s on me.”
She looks at the bike again, then back at me. “I’m not… I don’t even know where to start with this.”
“That’s okay.” I soften my voice without thinking about it. “We’ve got time.”
Her gaze flicks to my leather jacket, my boots, the motorcycle behind me. “You’re really a biker.”
“Motorcyclist,” I say again, more gently this time. “But yeah.”
She lets out a nervous laugh. “I can’t believe I dressed like this.”
“You look great,” I say honestly.
Her eyes narrow. “You’re biased.”
“Probably.” I shrug. “But I still mean it.”
She hesitates, then asks, “You said your sister signed you up for this?”
“Sort of.” I lean back against the bike, crossing my arms. “She’s the one who organized the auction.”
“That makes sense.”
“A few of her bachelors backed out last minute.” I grimace. “She was scrambling.”
“And you were… backup?”
“Desperation recruit,” I confirm. “She knew I’d already be here.”
“Why were you supposed to be here?”
I hesitate for half a second, then answer honestly. “I was supposed to be attending a wedding.”
Her brows lift. “Supposed to be?”
“Didn’t happen.” I shake my head. “Long story. Involves a groom who decided not to go through with it.”
“Oh.” She winces. “Yikes.”
“Yeah.” I exhale. “Anyway, when the wedding fell apart, my sister decided I was free game.”
Mindy studies me, something thoughtful in her expression. “And you said yes.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
I meet her gaze. “Because sometimes you don’t realize you’re lonely until someone gives you an excuse not to be.”
Her lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting that answer.
“So,” I say, shifting gears before the moment gets too heavy. “Are you ready to ride?”
She laughs weakly. “That depends. On a scale of ‘this is fine’ to ‘I’m going to die,’ where does a first-time motorcycle ride fall?”
“Somewhere in the middle,” I say. “Closer to fine.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
“I’ve never been on one,” she admits. “I don’t know anything about them. I don’t even know where you’re supposed to hold on.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “I’ll show you.”
I step closer to the bike and start slow, talking her through it like it’s no big deal.
“This is the tank. These are the handlebars. Throttle’s on the right. Front brake here, rear brake by your foot.” I tap each part as I go. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. That’s my job.”
She nods, listening carefully.
“These are the foot pegs,” I continue. “Your feet go here. Knees stay tucked in. You can hold onto me or the grab rail behind you.”
Her cheeks pink slightly. “Which do people usually do?”
“Whatever makes them feel safest.”
She swallows. “Okay.”
I hand her the helmet. “Let’s get you situated.”
Helping her climb on feels more intimate than it probably should. My hands hover, ready to steady her, and when she shifts her weight awkwardly, I instinctively reach out.
She stiffens for a second, then relaxes when she realizes I’m not rushing her.
“Take your time,” I murmur.
She settles onto the seat, then laughs nervously. “I feel very high up.”
“You are,” I admit. “But you’re doing great.”
She adjusts her position, scooting a little closer. Her hands hover uncertainly at my sides.
“Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice lower than before. “Perfect.”
She exhales, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
“You’re brave,” I tell her.
She scoffs. “I’m terrified.”
“Those aren’t opposites,” I say. “Bravery usually comes with fear attached.”
She looks up at me, eyes bright. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
Her smile is small but genuine.
“Fair’s fair,” I add. “If you’re admitting something you’ve never done before, I should too.”
“Oh?” Her curiosity sparks.
“I’ve never kissed a girl from Kansas before we even went out on our first date.”
Her breath catches.
“What?” she whispers.
I lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She doesn’t.
I press my lips to hers, and my whole world turns on its side.