Page 70 of Joker in the Pack

“Here—I borrowed this for you to wear. It should fit.”

He’d gone to all that trouble? If that was the case, I could hardly insult him by refusing to go, could I? Plus the part of me that still wished to maintain a scrap of dignity didn’t want to admit I was scared, either.

Nye held out the jacket, and I slipped my arms into it. He was right—it fitted perfectly, probably because it was a ladies’ cut. Who did it belong to? His girlfriend? Did she mind that he’d lent it to me?

“Do you take many girls on the back?” I asked, eyeing the bike up with some trepidation.

“Nervous?”

“No, no, not at all. Not me. No way.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I rarely crash.”

Rarely? Oh, that was all right, then. As long as it only happened once in a while.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t find a car more comfortable?”

“The bike does it for me.”

He helped me put on a helmet, then straddled the seat and motioned for me to hop up behind him. The perch on the back looked awfully small—not even a proper seat. How was I supposed to travel on that? And what on earth should I hold on to?

“Just swing your leg over the back,” Nye said. “Then put your feet on the pegs.”

I managed it somewhat inelegantly, and I’d never felt so unstable in my life. What if I tumbled off the back?

“Hold on to my waist.”

Wrap my arms around a virtual stranger? Talk about awkward. I gingerly placed my hands on his hips, thankful for the thick jacket between us, and the bike engine started with a throaty rumble.

Good grief. This was really happening.

“Ready?” he shouted above the noise.

“Never more so.”

He hit the throttle, and gravel spat out behind the back wheel. The bike shot off down the driveway, and I forgot about etiquette as my arms circled Nye’s waist of their own accord.

I could hear him laughing above the noise of the engine as we hit the road. That…that asshole! I was tempted to thump him, but I didn’t dare let go.

The vibrations from the engine did funny things to my insides as we sped along, as did Nye’s proximity. I was hanging on so tight I could feel his muscles rippling under his jacket. Who on earth rode a motorcycle for fun? It was more like torture for me. At least Nye’s broad back acted as a windbreak; otherwise, I’d have blown away.

By the time Nye pulled over and unpeeled my arms from around his chest ten minutes later, my legs had turned to jelly.

“Are you getting off?” he asked, twisting in his seat to face me.

“Can you give me a few moments?”

“Sure. Wasn’t that fun?”

I flipped up my visor and gave him the dirtiest look I could muster.

Calm down, Olivia. Get your breath back.I needed to retrieve my sanity too, although admittedly, the latter was looking more and more like a lost cause.

When my heartbeat steadied, I swung my leg over the back of the bike and stumbled as my feet hit the ground. Nye hopped off and caught me before I hit the deck, then held me tight against him.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh, I think so.” I nodded half-heartedly. “It was just a little scary.”

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