“I sort of figured something like that accompanied the whole escort thing.”
He smiles. I smile. I should eat breakfast so I can stop appearing and acting so stupid.
“I’m aware,” says Olivia. “I was referring to the pond. That’s on our property. It’s a half mile if you cut through the woods.”
A pond in the woods? Little tremors course through my bloodstream. “I don’t hike.” I don’t do woods.
Both Olivia and Oz stare at me as if I’m crazy then return to each other and pretend I’m not in the same room.
“Take her on your bike,” Olivia continues.
On his bike? Do either of them detect my internal scream, because I hear it. “Why can’t we use the truck?”
“Chevy needs it,” answers Oz. “His bike broke down last night and he has football conditioning.”
Oh. My biker cousin plays football. Like the real kind. Not the kind without pads in the yard that resembles sixteenth-century warfare.
“You’ll have fun,” says Olivia. “The pond has trees.”
Trees. Second tree on the left.
“What does that mean?” Oz double-takes Olivia and if it weren’t for our previous conversation I’d think she was crazy, too. Well, more crazy than usual.
“That we should go swimming,” I suggest.
A muscle in Oz’s jaw twitches and I’m curious why he’s unhappy. I thought after our bonding moment last night, we were friends. “Wear jeans over your swimsuit and some real fucking shoes.”
He gets up and stomps out of the room.
* * *
“What else?” Mom’s drinking tea in our kitchen during this morning’s video chat and she’s pumping me for information.
“Oz and I are going swimming today. For real, who doesn’t have central air in this century? I swear to God I’m going to melt.”
Mom lightly traces her throat. “Where are you going swimming?”
“A pond, I guess.”
Her eyebrows rise past her blond bangs. “But you hate the woods.”
“I didn’t say it was in the woods.” Olivia did. And so did Oz. But me? Never mentioned it.
She sets down her cup of tea. “I was assuming that. There’re lots of woods in Kentucky and...here comes your father! Jeff, come here and say hi to Emily. I have to go. I have a meeting...”
Mom flees from her chair faster than a traumatized hummingbird.
Dad settles into Mom’s seat and he watches the direction in which Mom left then eventually turns his attention to me. He’s in a white shirt and tie, which means he has hospital visits today. “Hey, Em.”
There’s a part of me that always relaxes when I see him. “Hi, Dad.”
“What did you say to freak your mom out?” Dad’s eyes contain a spark of amusement. He’s finding this whole digging into Mom’s past thing enjoyable for some reason.
“I told her I was going swimming at a pond.”
He nods as if he knows why this pond is a big deal. “That would make her unhappy.”
“I’m tired of being the only one in the dark,” I say.
“I imagine you are.” He leans forward so that his head is closer to the camera. “Are you ready to come home yet?”
Surprisingly... “No. It’s weird here, but I’m handling it.”
“Good,” Dad says, and he looks as though he means it. “That’s good.”
A part of me feels better that he’s supporting me in this, but the other half sinks in guilt. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yes, Em?”
“I love you.”
Dad grins in a way that causes me to soar. “I love you, too.”
Good.
That’s good.
Oz
I WAIT ON the front porch while Emily’s locked in her room getting ready. A whine of hinges and Olivia joins me. She wears a top that’s more corset than shirt and a pair of painted-on jeans. She must be scheduled for another MRI. “If you don’t watch it that hospital in Louisville is going to be down an MRI tech. Cyrus will be pissed that you’re dressing up for your smart boy toy.”
“A little flirting doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s something people do when they feel alive.”
All the happiness drains out of me and I scan the yard. She’s dying. Inside her is something that is spreading and she’s dying.
“You’re going to have to deal with this,” she says. “With me. I’m short on time and miracles. I thought having the wake while I was alive would help, but I don’t think it has with you.”
“Are you having a stroke? Because you’re talking nonsense.”
She chuckles at my response, but then the lightheartedness fades. “Why aren’t you living?”
“Speak English.”
“While I love that Emily is here, and that she is because you’re doing what Eli asked of you, I’m wondering when you’re going to start living your life.”
“If it wasn’t for Emily, I’d be on that run making money for the company instead of sitting here with my thumb up my ass.” I don’t want to have this conversation. It’s one I avoid because I’ll be damned if I’ll let my anger get the best of me, so I switch gears. “You need to stop dropping clues to Emily about her past.”
She flutters her eyelashes as if she could pass for a Southern belle. “Why, Oz, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t. Eli flat-out told me he doesn’t want Emily to know anything and you go and tell her to hunt for Honeysuckle Ridge. She’s asking people about it, and if she asks the wrong person she’s going to end up in deep shit that I can’t pull her out of.”
Olivia admires her nails like we aren’t discussing topics that could harm Emily. “She really did do a good job. You’re tasked with protecting Emily, correct?”
“Yes,” I say with exasperation. “And you’re making it harder.”
“If you want to keep Emily out of trouble, then help her discover the truth.”
My muscles lock up. “You mean tell her what I know.”
“No, I mean help her find out. Even you don’t know what it is that Eli and Meg are hiding and, you’re right, Emily asking about Honeysuckle Ridge will get her in trouble. If you want to protect her, then help Emily discover the truth. Become her ally.”
“If you want Emily to know so badly, then you tell her, but stop messing with my future. If I help her then I lose my shot at the security company and the club.”
“I can’t tell her. I promised Eli I wouldn’t.”
I swear to God fire is shooting out of my eyes. “And I gave Eli my word she wouldn’t find out. You can’t betray Eli or the club, but you don’t mind if I do.”
“You aren’t part of the Terror yet. You have a grace period. The three-piece patch is not on your back, otherwise you would have already told Eli I gave Emily the picture.” Olivia lays a fist over her heart and drops her voice. “I’m asking you to save my granddaughter and yourself.”
I narrow my eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Olivia rests her freezing hand on my arm. “The club has never been a herd.”
My mind mulls over her words, searching for her meaning, but I come up blank.
“At its heart, it’s about the individual’s search for freedom.” She squeezes my arm.
“I know.”
“I don’t think you do, and Emily doesn’t know this, either. If you help her, you’ll save her. If you help her, then maybe you’ll find yourself.”
Dammit. “I already know who I am! You’re the one who can’t accept it.”
Olivia doesn’t flinch from my words. She smiles instead and puts her hand on my face. “You know what I find amazing? How much alike you and Emily are.”
Her words are a fist to my gut. ??
?What does that mean?”
“You’re both afraid to find out who you might be.” She lightly pats my cheek then lowers her hand. “That’s the type of fear that can damage your life. Help Emily and I promise you’ll be helping yourself, as well.”
Emily walks onto the porch wearing an old pair of Olivia’s boots, a skintight pair of jeans, thanks to Violet, and a T-shirt. A thin piece of blue ties at the back of her neck.
“I’m ready to go.” Emily warily takes in Olivia and then me. “Is everything okay?”
No, it’s not, but there’s not a damn thing I can do to fix it. I look Emily over and begin to imagine her in a bikini. Parts south of my brain start spinning fantasies that will never happen. I run a hand over my face. I’m looking forward to this too much. “I need your helmet, Olivia.”
“Don’t have it.” She turns her back to us as she returns to the living room. “It’s a short drive. Some wind in her hair won’t kill her.”
Eli might if he finds out I permitted Emily to ride without one, but it’d take longer to head to my house for Mom’s helmet than it would to go straight to the pond. “Let’s roll.”
I’m down the stairs and pulling my keys to my bike out of my pocket. Emily’s behind me. I straddle the bike then gesture for her to hop on. She sweeps her long bangs away from her face and massages her neck. “Seriously, are you and Olivia okay?”
Seriously, we are not. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” Emily nudges at the gravel with her toe. “She wants you to help me find the monsters haunting my past.”
Yeah, she does. “I can’t help you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“That is a fucked-up question because it means the same thing.”
“No, it doesn’t. One means you can help but you’re refusing to. The other means you would love to help, but you don’t have the ability to.”
I insert my key into the ignition. “Emily, when it comes to you, can’t and won’t share the same definition. Now get on the bike.”
Emily tangles her fingers near the end of her hair and hesitates.
“Are you scared?” I ask.
Furious dark eyes stab right through me. “No.”
“Have you ridden before?”
She shrugs a maybe then her shoulders roll forward. “No, but how hard can it be?”
Driving one? Harder than she thinks. “Direct blood of Eli McKinley has never been on a bike. It feels sacrilegious.”
“I’m a Jennings,” she corrects.
“So you’ve mentioned and you just told me you’re a virgin so let’s go over the basics.”
Her mouth slacks. “I never said I was a virgin.”
“Never been on a bike before, right?”
She nods.
“As I said, virgin. I’m in a hurry, otherwise I’d be willing to swap sex stories, but you can dominate that conversation because I’m more interested in yours. When you do tell me, talk slow since I’m a details type of guy.”
Emily morphs a shade of red that’s too damn gorgeous and I force my eyes away. She’s too easy to get lost in...lost in conversation, lost in those damn eyes, lost in her beauty and gentle sexiness, but getting lost in Emily is not an option.
“When it comes to the bike, I’ll take it slow. You’ll only be on it for a few minutes. Hop on and I’ll walk you through this.”
With another tuck of her hair behind her ear, Emily exhales and climbs on behind me. My bike rides double, but it doesn’t have a bitch strap or a back rest so if she’s holding on, it’ll be me she’s clutching.
Emily sits as far back as possible and even with that distance her inner thighs still rub against my body. An image flashes in my mind of Emily lying next to me with her legs wrapped around mine and her warm breath tickling my neck. I inhale to gain some control.
“Okay, jackass.” Emily chases the vision away. “What now?”
“You can hike through the woods and I’ll meet you there.”
“Could,” she says. “But I don’t know where it is and I thought an escort was required. Take back what you said about the sex stories and I’ll take back the jackass.”
“You’re the one that brought up sex,” I respond.
“No, I didn’t. You did. So I’m standing by what I said, you’re a jackass.”
“I like how you do foreplay.” I twist to face her. “Hold on to my belt loops.”
She blinks, twice. “Your what?”
“Belt loops. The ones on the sides. Hold tight and if you’re feeling frisky I’ll let you wrap your arms around my waist. Cop a feel if you’d like—and so you know, I’d prefer if you head south instead of north.”
“Belt loops will be fine,” she says.
Her choice. “This is serious, so listen up. When I lean to the side, you go with me, never against me. Don’t go throwing yourself over, move naturally with the bike. If I stop and you have to readjust, get my attention before moving, you got it?”
Because riding is a balancing act and with her doubling up with me, I have to manage both of our weight. Last thing I need is to go down and for Emily to become embedded with gravel. “All joking aside, if you get scared, rest your head on my back, close your eyes and wrap your arms around me. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I’ll be fine.” Emily twines her fingers around the loops in my jeans while still trying to keep space between us. I turn the key and soon my bike’s purring underneath us—a gentle vibration that immediately smooths out every frayed nerve in my body.
A quick look down shows Emily still has her feet on the ground. I point to the notches closest to her. “Place your feet on the floorboard.”
Emily’s hold on me tightens as she lifts her feet and balances on the bike. I peek at her over my shoulder. “You ready?”
She gives me a weak grin. “Yes?”
I chuckle then twist the throttle. “Hold on.”
Emily
THE MOTORCYCLE ACCELERATES and the few inches I had established between me and Oz: gone. My body slides forward, colliding into his, and we click together like two puzzle pieces. Heat rushes up my neck and onto my cheeks. My thighs are too close to his, too tight against his body and this is way more intimate than I have been before with a guy.
Even when the two of us kissed.
Oz veers left, away from Olivia’s, away from the main road, and the entire motorcycle pitches to the side. My heart thunders and my fingers clutch not only at Oz’s belt loop, but at the material of his jeans, and his hips.
Oz glances at me over his shoulder as the bike straightens out. “Lean with it, Emily.”
Right. Lean with Oz and the bike. Got it. The narrow road curves ahead and this time when Oz and the bike tilt, I move along with it. Oz releases one of the amazingly high handlebars and massages my knee before returning his hand to the grip. Whether in reassurance or to affirm I mastered the curve I don’t know, but either way, I sit higher.
The wind whips through my hair and onto my face and I shut my eyes for a brief second and pretend that I’m flying. There’s something energizing, something hypnotic, something inside me that begs to burst out of a cage in search of freedom.
The motorcycle kicks forward and our speed increases. Beams of sunlight filter through the towering trees and green foliage blurs together as we fly over the road. From head to toe, my body vibrates with the loud growling of the powerful machine.
My knee still tingles from where Oz laid his fingers on me and I’ve never been more aware of my hands in my life. I should let go of Oz’s body, but I can’t. Belt loops weren’t enough and my fingers have somehow edged up and onto his sides. Oz is solid. Yes, definitely solid. Every inch of him that I touch is tight muscle.
Oz is a year older than me, but somehow he seems o
lder, wiser and hotter than any other guy I’ve known. Just the way he rides his bike creates this overabundance of confidence.
Warm sensations I’ve never experienced before blossom through me. We enter another curve and I lean with him. I like how in sync I’ve become with Oz and the motorcycle. Like we’ve merged into one.
The purr of the engine deepens and Oz eases the bike to a stop. His feet hit the ground and he turns the machine off. It’s as if all sound in the world ceased, or maybe I’ve gone deaf because there’s no way anything can be this still or silent.
The wind picks up and the silence is frightened away with the roar of the trees bending. Both Oz and I shift with the flow of air and Oz doesn’t move the bike until the breeze gentles.
Oz kicks down the stand and the bike tilts, but not too much. He sets a hand over the fingers that I laced together across his stomach. Oh, hell, I’m plastic wrapped to him. I drop my head onto his shoulder and it places me closer, and closer is not what I need.
I go to unglue myself, but Oz squeezes my fingers, sending a jolt of electricity up my arms. “You okay?”
I have to clear my throat to speak and that just sucks. “Yes.”
Oz slides his fingers against mine and a fluttering occurs in my stomach. It’s a light fluttering. Ticklish even, and my survival instincts scream at me to get off this motorcycle.
Placing distance between us, I remove my hands and when I swing my leg over, I accidently tap it against the bike. The material of my jeans rides up and a burning pain flashes against my skin.
I yelp and jerk to get away and, because I possess no grace, end up with my hands flailing in circles in an attempt to find balance while I stay precariously upright on my heels.
Oz snatches my wrist before I begin the descent to the ground. In a heartbeat, he’s off his bike and he yanks me until my body collides with his. I melt with the pressure of his hand on my lower back.
“Are you okay?” he asks again. Concern softens his face and damn, he’s handsome.
Because any and all words are trapped in my windpipe, I nod. His black hair is a mess. Spiked up into multiple tufts and I’d give anything to touch it right now. To brush it away from his forehead. To caress the shadow forming on his jaw.