Page 110 of Building What's Meant to Be

“Yes, but I have a feeling Cindy Clawford is going to be stiff competition.”

I chuckle. “Are mayors usually bad boy secret agents?”

“This one is, however, that is not motorcycle-appropriate attire.” Aiden looks me up and down, long and slow as if he likes what he sees despite his comment.

I glance down at my skirt. “Mae and Bess said you went to Savannah. How were you planning on getting me and my luggage back here on the bike?”

“Fair point, but I wanted to drive fast. I couldn’t sleep last night. I’ve hardly eaten. Tinsley, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, but you’re hard to live without.” He plants his hands on my waist, pulling us together.

Before I can address what’s happening in my body—a rush of love that has the ability to reconfigure my cellular composition and what I believed about myself and my worth—Aiden presses his lips to mine in a smoosh.

My belly swoops.

Longing radiates through me, zipping to my chest. I feel wild and free at last. It’s dangerously exciting. And so is the wink thatAiden gives when we part, telling me there’s more where that came from.

“Tinsley, will you go for a ride with me?”

“In this? On that? I thought we decided this isn’t a biker outfit.”

“Let’s live on the wild side.”

“All my stuff is here and Brave.”

“I won’t let him miss you for too long.” Aiden saunters over to the bike and gets on.

I arrange my skirt as ladylike as I can so my mother doesn’t find herself sipping her tea and having a meltdown that she can’t explain then I get on.

Wrapping my arms around Aiden, I realize that whether I’m in a sequined dress, a skirt that would meet Mother’s approval, or a T-shirt and jeans, I belong here with this man in this town.

We zip toward his property but then take an unfamiliar turn. Going uphill, I tighten my grip around him.

A mailbox with a stone-covered post and flowers planted around the base sits at the end of a paved driveway. Aiden turns and takes it slow. The canopy of trees forms a tunnel of dappled light before it opens to a wide clearing with a massive house in the center of a manicured rolling green hill dotted with ornamental trees. Decorative shrubs and flowers surround the craftsman-style home with a stone base, wood siding in a medium brown stain, and thick support beams.

I get off the motorcycle and stare.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think? If you were a house, this would be it. It’s so you. Strong, sturdy, and undecided between the clean-shaven look or letting a little scruff fill in with the wood and stone.” I brush my fingers along his jaw.

Aiden takes my hand and leads me up the stone-lined pathway. To the right is a large window with a pine treeperfectly shaped for Christmas lights. The entryway has a certain grandness to it, but the double, dark wood door also suggests that unwelcome guests ought to turn away.

It’s Aiden Fuller to a T.

He pauses in front of the door and says, “Welcome home.”

“Home?” I ask.

“This is the house I built. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I designed it for us.”

“How do you mean?”

“For one, it has a home theater and seeing how you love movies...There’s also a garden in the back with plenty of room for beehives. The kitchen is massive, perfect for baking. Wait until you see the pool, the climbing wall, the entertainment and game room. I think we could have a lot of fun here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. Perhaps it has something to do with Taylor’s warning. He wasn’t too keen on you.”

I wiggle uncomfortably. “The warning wasn’t unfounded.”

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