Page 130 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Bending low, I added speed until we flew, just like she requested.

* * * * *

“You okay?” I held her elbow, granting support while she staggered a little from climbing off my bike.

She nodded and wrenched the helmet off, leaving her hair crackling with static.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

The late afternoon sunshine turned her hair into spun gold and her eyes brighter than the clear summer’s sky.

Giving me a sated almost sensual smile, she nodded and sighed heavily. “That was…I have no words.” Passing back my helmet, she shrugged. “Thank you, Zander. I didn’t know how much I needed that.”

Placing both helmets on the leather seat of my bike, I fought the urge to fidget with my glasses. But then I gave in because I wasn’t pretending to be X, and I really, really needed to do something with my hands.

Taking my glasses off, I polished the lens with my t-shirt. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Are you going out again sometime?”

Returning my glasses to my nose, I nodded. “Probably. I have a big week coming up, so I’ll most likely need to blow off some steam. Why? Did you want to join me?”

She shuffled on the spot. “Would that be okay? I mean…if you want to be on your own, then—”

“You can come.”

Her eyes narrowed on that word, sending me right back to last night when she’d come on my tongue. I didn’t know if she recognised my voice or if memories of Milton made that word a trigger, but…I made a mental note not to say it anymore.

My stomach rumbled embarrassingly loud.

Sailor smirked. “I’m guessing you’re as hungry as I am. I better let you go.” Swaying toward her house, she bit her bottom lip. “Thanks again. For today, I mean.”

Ice water splashed down my spine. I didn’t want her to go. I wanted to invite her round. Have dinner with her. Kiss her without a mask on and—

“Have a good day at work tomorrow.” She waved and headed up her garden path.

My window of opportunity closed far too quickly.

Clearing my throat, I dashed forward and grunted, “If you’re not doing anything tonight, did you want to…” I waved at my house like an idiot. “Come round?”

You said that word again.

“I mean, pop round? For food.”

Smooth, Zan. Real smooth.

She froze and wrung her hands. “Oh, um…” Her gaze shot to my renovated home. Excuses flickered in her stare; the fear she was slowly working through swallowed her back into the shadows. “Um, it’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just…really tired. Rain check?”

“Of course. You’re still healing. Sorry, I…I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, I’m the one who should apologise—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I shouldn’t have asked.” Forcing a smile, I locked my bike, grabbed the two helmets, and stalked toward my garage. I couldn’t be around her while my emotions were stupidly close to the surface. I wanted to call her out on her lies, but I also had no right.

She didn’t want to hang out with me in a house on our own because no matter the freedom of today, I still represented all her hurts. I was still the reason she wore so many bruises. Why did I think she’d be over that? What egotistical asshole believed that, in one afternoon, he could erase all her trauma and expect to neck with her on his couch?

So what if we’d ridden together?

Flown together?

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