Page 89 of Tulips and Lost Time

She brings her thumbnail up and nervously nibbles as she looks around. “Marcus isn’t coming to get me?”

“No. Because I’m here.” I take that last step forward and stop only when the toes of my boots touch hers. Fuck knows what stains my shoes, and a little girl’s blood marks my pants. It’s why we wear dark clothes on the job. “He trusts me to get you home, Bear.” I duck my head just a little lower. “He’s trusting me to get you there safely.”

“In his truck?” Her eyes wheel around, searching for it. Desperation radiating from her pores. “Did you bring the tr?—”

I tug a set of keys from my pocket and let them dangle from my finger. And when her eyes swing back and her brain registers her new reality, her cheeks pale while my lips come up.

“No.”

“We’re going on the bike, Bear. Which, I recall, was something you always wanted to do.”

“When I was eighteen years old! I’ve grown up since then, Luc. I’ve matured.”

“Cute.” I grab her hand and turn before she can run. “I haven’t.”

“Luc!” Her sneakers slide against the concrete. Her nails, digging into my wrist as she works to peel my fingers away. “Luc! You can’t just force me onto a machine without my permission! I could fall off. Maybe I’ll let go, just to teach you a lesson.”

“Great lesson.” I spy my battered bike, parked between a couple of cars, and steer us that way. “You’re the one who’ll have road rash on your ass. If you get hurt, I’m a paramedic, though. Can’t say I won’t jump straight to CPR.”

“You’re a child!” She fights my hand and, if the cops just so happened to drive by right now, her flailing would be hella incriminating. “Stop!”

“Stop making a scene.” I lower my voice, but my lips split wide into a grin. Taunting her is way more fun than watching her cry. “You’re gonna get me arrested if you don’t stop screeching like that.”

“I want you to get arrested!” She balls her fist and slams it against my shoulder, her backpack sliding along her arm because of the momentum of her swing. “Go to prison, Luc! Maybe then I’ll get through a single friggin’ day without seeing you.”

“I’d miss you, though.” I stop by my bike and release her hand. An action, I’m sure, she didn’t expect. Because she stumbles back, almost dropping to her ass if not for the car to her left. “Get on the bike, Bear. Your world won’t end if you give me this.”

“But I think it might,” she whimpers, heaving for breath and searching for someone to save her. Her cheeks are too pale. Her eyes, terrified. “Luc, if I get on that bike with you?—”

“You’re at risk of admitting you still love me?” I grab the helmet I made damn sure to bring today and turn to face her. “God forbid you give in to what your heart wants.”

“My heart is wrong! And why the hell do you have a helmet? You never wear a helmet.”

“Because you need a helmet.” I snatch her bag and set it on the bike, then I bring the helmet up and smile when her eyes desperately swing to mine. “It’s the middle of the night, Bear.” I set my finger beneath her chin and tilt her head back until her gaze moves to the sky. “The stars are out.”

Her throat quivers. “Luc…”

“Anything that happens in the dark, stays in the dark. We’re in those magical hours before the rest of the world exists.” I release her chin, but I cup the helmet between my palms and bring it up until it hovers over her head. “Give us this night. Get on my bike and stop worrying about all the bad shit that could happen. Think, instead, about all the good that could come of this.”

“What good?” she trembles. “What good could possibly happen? I fall in love with you… again? I forgive you? I become hopelessly dependent on you, just like I used to be? What, Luc?” Her eyes dance with unshed tears. “I have nothing left to give you.”

“Give me this.” I lick my dry lips and swallow when her gaze drops to the movement. “Give me this ride, and I promise to make sure you get home none the worse for wear.”

“Physically,” she groans. “I’ll be safe, physically. But what about my heart?”

“I want to heal that, too. I want to make everything better, Bear. Not worse.” I examine her beautiful eyes and prepare to get on my fucking knees and beg if that’s what it takes. “I’m not here to hurt you any more. I want to fix what I broke. Let me put your helmet on and take you for a ride.”

She’s petrified. Shaking. Her mind sprints a million miles a second, so plainly obvious in the way her eyes flicker. Her lips tremor, and her hands fuss.

But she draws a deep, shuddering breath, and nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Fine.” She brings her hands up and claps them over mine, yanking the helmet down and taking back her control. Her hair sits in her eyes, long brown locks puffing in every direction and annoying her as she huffs and digs her fingers into the helmet to fix the mess. But she makes quick work of it, fastening the strap beneath her chin and flipping the visor upward to meet my eyes. “If we crash, you’ll probably die, you know that, right? Helmets are important when riding a bike.”

“Careful, Bear.” I turn to the bike and grab her bag, then handing it back, I slip my leg over the seat and wait for her to get herself organized. “If you keep that up, you might be accused of giving a shit about me.”

“I’m more concerned with the walk home if we crash and you perish.” She sneers, visible even with the helmet between us, then she steps back and examines what comes next.

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