I step out into the cool night air, still thinking about Koko’s interpretation of the tale. Goldilocks is a moral lesson about theft and greed, but he’s right, too. She was just a child, drawn in by hunger and tiredness. Bears don’t live in houses or sleep in beds. They don’t eat porridge or talk. The entire tale is new to me once more; new, and terrifying, and sad.
I glance up as soon as I realise I’ve stopped walking. Aiden waits just like he said, but instead of a car, he’s riding Carlo’s bike.Mybike.
Aiden’s perusal starts at my leather boots and travels upward. He sees my hair and leans back, takes an extra hard look at my face and then back to my hair.
“It’s brown. It’s not forever,” I answer his unspoken question, nudging him until he scoots forward. I swing my leg over the bike; find I don’t have enough height to do it gracefully and so shuffle myself into the correct position while tugging on his arm.
“Here.” He hands me the helmet he’s been holding between his thighs. “Safety first.” I swap the baseball cap for the helmet and shove the cap into my bag, swivelling it around to my front, securing it between us. “Squeeze up against me and get your arms around my waist. We’ll not go too fast, but it’s better if you hold on.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? No complaints. No teasing?”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Sorry, you’re right. Let’s get you home and safe, Tiger.”
I always thought Harleys were cruising bikes. Like those guys you see on TV, all leaned-back with their handlebars up as high as their ears, but Carlo’s is more like a sports bike, sleek yet chunky. I wonder if it’s heavy under its rider? As a passenger, it’s clear this isn’t made for two, but I still revel in the liquid way it moves through the city. Wind buffets against Aiden, so I tuck myself in behind him and grip on for dear life. I thought I’d be more afraid. Instead, the entire experience is a bad day short of exhilarating. On any other day, I’d be having the time of my life. What should be fluttering butterflies are merely slow-circling gnats in my gut. What should be laughter in my throat constrains itself to a bubble I can’t swallow down.
By the time Aiden pulls into the compound’s driveway, I’m fully committed to trying that again, but on a day where I can relaxand enjoy it. After all, it’s mine now, right?
I expect Aiden to drop us both at the front door, but he takes the detour to the garage, and we park in the same spot I saw the bike in this morning.
He yanks his helmet off and hangs the strap over the handgrip.
“Don’t move a muscle for a second, Jules; stay right where you are.” Aiden reaches into his jacket and pulls out his phone. I hear the electronictaktaktakof the keypad as he types. No sooner have his fingers stopped than the phone rings in his hands.
“You got it? There yet? Yeah, it’s going to be worth it. Give me a second…” Aiden holds the phone to his chest, turns partially to me, and says, “I’ll get off first and it’ll make it easier for you, okay?”
“Sure.”
There’s a clunk as the entire machine tilts to the left and then comes to a stop. With an awkward slide and hop, Aiden manages to climb down without nudging me. Why didn’t wait for me to get off first? It seems an arse-backwards thing to do.
He backs away, still muttering into the phone but watching me, probably so he can step in and rescue me if I look like I’m about to fall flat on my face.
I scoot forward. The leather is smooth and warm against the yoga pants, the seat widening and then narrowing again. It’s not as high from this point, so drop my foot to the support footrest and swing my leg over the back and then down to the floor. I can admit I take a little pride in managing to disembark more gracefully than I climbed on.
“You see…? Right? Made for it. I agree…No…not yet…one sec.” Aiden lowers the phone again and taps his head, then nods to me.
Oh right. Helmet. I take it off and lay it on the seat.
Whoever Aiden’s talking to is shouting now, but Aiden doesn’t seem upset. He looks downright smug.
I catch a voice I know too well cursing up a storm before heyells, “Get your arses up here now!”
“Well, shit. That went better than expected,” Aiden snickers.
“Sounds more like someone pissed in Dax’s porridge to me.”But hey…each to their own.
Chapter Four
I’m barely up the stairs before Dax launches himself out of the guard station and snatches me into a bear hug. The unexpectedness of the action is matched only by the foreignness of the feeling. It hurts, and yet it’s good too.
“I haven’t been this afraid since you called me about Tom,” he murmurs into my hair, but I sense he doesn’t mean to say it out loud.
Just when I think my neck might break with how my cheek presses against his chest, he shoves me backward and runs his eyes up and down. His first question is an accusation. Should even be surprised at this point?
“Whose hoodie is that? Why are you wearing some guy’s clothes?”
