Page 70 of The Rogue and His Flower

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“I just want to say one thing first though,” he begins, clearing his throat.

“Okay.”

“I know it wasn’t easy for you to open up like that, but I’m grateful that you did. It made me reevaluate our relationship.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Not at all. Just know that I intend for things to be better between us. We can agree that we’re friends now, right?”

“Yes we are, and that sounds good to me,” I say softly.

I know that he’s trying to process my revelations just as much as I’m struggling to navigate the aftermath of laying bare secrets I’ve long kept hidden, but in all honesty, I just want to put everything aside for today. A fresh start could be good for the both of us.

“Now that everything’s out in the open, perhaps we can try to move forward?” I offer, pressing my palms against my red jeans to try and prevent my hands from trembling, not because he’s making me nervous, but because I’m still shaken by the rawness of last night. Dalton notices my reaction and reaches out and wraps his hand around mine, his huge palm engulfing mine, the warmth of his touch seeping into my skin.

“Let’s focus on today. Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll give you a ride on my motorbike,” he adds jovially, a small smile playing about his lips as I glance over at him.

“Sounds positively thrilling,” I reply, laughing softly.

“You’ve no idea,” he retorts, squeezing my hand before letting it go.

After another twenty minutes of small talk that seems to lighten the mood, Dalton pulls up to the racetrack on the outskirts of Princetown. I’ve never actually been here before, and the sound of motorbikes revving fills the air with an exciting energy that crackles beneath my skin as we step out of the car.

“I’ll introduce you to my friends,” Dalton says, offering me his hand, a simple gesture of support as I slide my palm into his.

“You have some then?” I reply, smiling so he knows I’m only joking.

He chuckles. “As hard as that is to believe, I do. Truthfully, this is where I feel most at home.”

“How so?” I ask.

“I’m just Dalton here,” he shrugs. “I’m not someone who is the heir to a billion-pound fortune. There are no expectations for me to act a certain way. I can just be me. I’m respected for my skills on the track, and liked for who I am. Plus, when I ride, I’m free.” He glances over at me. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I can understand that,” I reply, frowning a little.

As we head towards a group of riders talking together beside a row of impressive motorbikes parked next to the track, I can’thelp but feel a surge of anticipation mixed with a touch of nerves at the thought of meeting Dalton’s friends. But I needn’t have worried as they greet us enthusiastically, clapping Dalton on the back and exchanging warm welcomes with me. Their easy smiles and banter immediately put me at ease.

“Everyone, this is my fiance, Daisy. Daisy meet everyone,” Dalton says, throwing his arm wide to include the group of three men and two women.

“I’m Banks,” a tall man with deep-set, hazel eyes and a flop of unruly black hair says. He points to his left to a guy with short blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard, “And this is Milo, the best racer here.”

Milo salutes me with a wink. “Alright, Daisy?”

“Hi,” I reply, giving him a smile.

“Erm, excuse me,” Dalton says, raising his brows. “We all knowI’mthe best racer here.”

“Aside from me, of course,” Banks adds, with a smirk. “You’ve got to admit it, your reflexes aren’t as quick now that you’re edging into your late forties.”

“Fuck off, Banks,” Dalton replies, lightly punching him on his arm. “I’m still a good seven or eight years younger than you, and we both know whilst you look forty, you’re not quite there yet.”

“Whatever, man,” Banks replies, holding his hand out for me to shake.

“Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Elijah,” another imposing man says, he’s slightly shorter than Banks and Milo, but no less intimidating with his tattooed face and shorn hair. I can’t see the colour of his eyes, given he’s wearing sunglasses, but his easy smile is welcoming.

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