Page 33 of My Casanova

Vince had been clean-cut and handsome in that preppy golfer way—an all-American boy, I suppose. But that hadn’t stopped him from cheating on me with the neighbor. I scrubbeda little harder as if washing away the memories of that painful chapter. Thank God that part of my life was over.

Now, there was Smoke. He knew what he wanted, but it wasn’t like he took it without a care for anyone else. Somehow, he managed to be gruff and firm but also kind. I didn’t know how he did it, but it made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t in years.

I quickly conditioned my hair, shut off the water, and wrapped myself in a plush towel. I stood in front of the mirror and contemplated whether to put my hair up, but I figured there was no point. I’d likely be wearing a helmet on the bike anyway. Instead, I blow-dried it and added a few loose curls to give it some shape.

I kept my makeup simple—just a swipe of lip gloss, a little eyeshadow, and some eyeliner to make my eyes pop. There was no sense in getting all made up when that wasn’t me at all. One of the things I learned after the divorce was to stop trying to be anyone other than myself.

Satisfied with how I looked, I smiled at my reflection and tried to settle the butterflies in my stomach.

The low, rumbling growl of a motorcycle echoed through the neighborhood and sent a jolt of anticipation straight through me.

He was here.

I hurried to my bedroom, slipped on my black boots, and glanced down at myself. This would have to do. I took a deep breath and sprinted to the front door. I flung it open just as the doorbell rang.

“Angel.” Smoke’s voice was smooth, rich, and effortlessly sexy when I saw him. His eyes traveled up and down my body.

My stomach did an entire gymnastics routine. “Hi,” I whispered and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The man had seen me at my worst—drunk off my butt, carried me inside,and fed me pizza—but standing at my doorstep now, ready for our date, I felt like a giddy schoolgirl.

“Ready?” he asked and held out a sleek black helmet.

I nodded and took it from him.

“Gotta keep you safe, angel.”

He stepped back and gave me room to lock the door behind me. My fingers fumbled with the keys for a second before I turned and followed him to his bike.

“Ever ridden before?” he asked as we reached his motorcycle.

I nodded. “Yeah, but not since I was a kid. My dad had a dirt bike he let me drive when I was a teenager.”

“No shit.” He looked genuinely impressed.

I plopped the helmet on my head and grinned. “Well, you seem impressed by that, so I won’t tell you about the time I crashed it into the LP tank.”

Smoke reached out, and his fingers brushed against my skin as he snapped the strap under my chin. His smirk widened. “We’ve all had our crashes in life, angel. Though crashing into an LP tank seems pretty dangerous.”

I laughed. “Thankfully, it was old and didn’t have any fuel in it. I just bonged off of it like a pinball.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Thank God for that.”

Smoke swung a leg over the bike with ease and settled into the seat like he was born for it. I climbed on behind him, adjusted myself until I was comfortable, and rested my hands tentatively on the sides of his waist.

“You’re gonna need to hold on,” he called over his shoulder as he cranked up the bike. The engine roared to life beneath us and sent a thrilling vibration up my legs.

I splayed my hands out and felt the strength of him beneath my touch.

“No, angel, really hold on.” He grabbed my hands and wrapped my arms securely around his waist. “Hold on.”

I swallowed hard and gripped him tighter as he kicked up the stand and revved the bike.

I might have told him I’d been on a bike before, but nothing compared to this. The rumble of the motor vibrated through my entire body and stirred something deep inside me.

We shot down the driveway, and soon, the town blurred by. Street signs flickered past us, and the afternoon air kissed my skin as we sped down the road. I pressed my cheek against his back and felt the steady rhythm of his breathing.

We drove until the town faded behind us. At a four-way stop, he slowed, and one boot pressed against the pavement to steady us.

“Where are we going?” I hollered over the roar of the bike.

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