Page 30 of Coming Up Roses
“Abi,” I say, gesturing for her to come forward. She takes a tentative step.
“Why do you need the helmet?”
“Because I’m not an idiot and I’d like to keep whatever brains I already have.”
“You don’t wear one on the farm.”
“I know and I should. But the beach can be unpredictable, and I tend to be a bit looser when I’m riding out here.”
“Looser?”
“Abi.” I reach for her, my fingers encircling her wrist. “Abigail. I’m going to look after you, I promise.” I want to ask but I’m not sure if the next question is pushing too hard.
I throw caution to the wind because I have to know. I need to. “Do you trust me?”
She takes a deep breath and steps even closer. Her hand comes to rest on the face guard of my helmet, her fingertips barely brushing the skin across my cheekbone.
I hate this fucking helmet. If it wasn’t there, she’d be cupping my face with her hand. I’d feel her entire palm against my skin.
“Yes, Flynn,” she whispers. “I trust you.”
“Is your anxiety being a problem about this?” I ask, hoping it doesn’t cause her to shut down.
“Not my actual anxiety, no. I’m just generally scared about it.” She laughs nervously.
“I’ll take it slow,” I promise.
She taps her fingers against the side of my helmet,then slides onto the bike behind me. The helmets make it less intimate, but I hope she’s going to let me really get going and when we’re going that fast, it’s always safer to have something protecting your head. Plus, it’s a weirdly hot look for Abi to be wearing my spare helmet. I’m beginning to think this woman could wear or doanythingand I’d find it hot.
I really need to get a grip.
Her thighs fit in behind mine and her arms snake around my torso. I give her hand a quick squeeze, then release the clutch on the bike and let it roll forward.
Abi clings on tight as we make our way down the sand. The dry, soft stuff is the hardest to get through, but once we get down below the high tide mark it’s solid footing for miles. I turn and head down the beach, pacing myself. I want Abi to enjoy this, I want her to relax. I don’t want to scare her, or push her too hard.
Her grip slowly loosens until she’s barely holding onto me. That’s when I slowly begin to increase the speed. At first she tenses when I accelerate, but when she realises I’m not taking off at warp speed, she relaxes again.
We travel down the beach, the sea salt scent in my nose, the breeze on my face, the sound of crashing waves thundering along the shore beside us.
This. This is it. Perfection.
My happy place.
The only way this could be any better was if the woman riding behind me was one I actually had a chance of falling in love with.
Well, I could probably love Abi without too much trouble.It’s her loving me back that’ll be the problem. I’m not the kind of guy a woman like Abigail Fletcher falls for.
As we race along the sand, I slowly increase the speed and Abi’s grip on me gradually decreases. Eventually she removes one hand from where it’s pressed against my stomach and holds it out beside us, hovering just past my shoulder. When nothing drastic happens, she raises it in the air.
I whoop and laugh and she echoes the noise, her joy cutting right through my chest.
I slow the bike, rolling to a stop and twist back to see her. Her eyes are sparkling, a wide smile stretched across her face. “You ready to drive now?”
Her laughter cuts off with five simple words. Rather than immediately dismissing the idea though, I can see her thinking about it. “I don’t think I can.”
“You’re wrong,” I say. “You can do anything.” I shouldn’t feel those words in my chest the way I do.
She looks doubtful, but when I gesture for her to climb off the bike she does. I stand beside her and pull my helmet off, hanging it on the handlebars, then help Abi with hers.
