Page 37 of Property of Fox

“Well, then, let’s get back on the road,” I smile, pulling away from the parking spot and driving toward our destination.

BREA

Fox is a biker.A real biker with a leather jacket and a motorcycle to match. My mind is still trying to process his confession. After escaping from Tank's controlling behavior and strict club guidelines, I’ve managed to literally stumble into another one.

But Fox isn't like Tank at all. He may be a biker, but he also makes me feel safe. It's a strange mix of emotions, being drawn to someone who represents everything I've been trying to escape. Can I trust him? Will he turn out to be just like Tank?These questions swirl around in my head, conflicting with the sense of comfort and security that Fox provides. I may not know him well, but I can't deny the pull towards him, even as my instincts tell me to stay away.

“We’re here,” he declares, pulling into a remote parking lot near a long dark park now that the sun has set.

“You brought me to a secluded area for a date? I listened to some true crime podcasts that have started this way.”

“I didn’t bring you here to kill you, firefly.”

“You sound so reassuring.”

Fox chuckles, the sound deep and rumbling like an engine revving to life. He leans back against his seat, arms crossed over his chest, the leather catching the faint glow from the streetlamp above. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of showing you a good time. But hey, if it helps, I promise to keep all my sharp objects hidden."

I let out a laugh, feeling the tension in my shoulders loosen just a bit.

I start to open my door, but Fox reaches out and places his hand on my bare thigh. “Stay in the truck.”

Worry hits me hard. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he laughs. “I’m trying to be the gentleman my grandmother raised and open your door, Brea. Trust me, if you open that door yourself, she’d feel it all the way back home and hit me with a rolled-up magazine the next time I visit her.”

I can’t help but laugh at the visual of Fox getting reprimanded.

“It’s not funny. I’m pretty sure I have a permanent divot on the top of my head from her corrections growing up. Now, be good girl, and stay there.”

Fox unbuckles his seatbelt before slipping from the driver’s seat and walking over to my side of the truck. As he opens the door, his tall frame leans closer to me. I can tell he'd probablylook devilishly handsome even while covered in mud. “Careful now,” he murmurs with an exaggerated seriousness that makes me laugh lightly before I take his outstretched hand and feel those calloused fingers wrapping around mine.

His touch sends thrums racing up my arm like electricity. Stepping down onto solid ground feels freeing and treacherous, given how these heels elongate my legs but make each step more precarious than necessary.

“See? Told you those might be tricky. Shall we go for a walk?”

“In a dark park? Again, it feels a little murder-y.”

Fox rolls his eyes dramatically, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Firefly, you have to get used to how the world works. Sometimes, you just got to trust the guy who’s holding your hand, especially when he promises there are no sharp objects involved.”

I can’t help but roll my own eyes. “Okay, but if I hear any strange noises or the ground starts to feel a little too uneven, I’m making a run for it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he responds. “Though I don’t think you’re going to get very far in those shoes, baby.”

Moonlight spills through the gaps in the swaying branches. I feel like we’ve stepped into one of those fairytale stories. The kind my mother used to read to me as a child. My heart aches a little at the thought of her back home, but I shake it away. Mom had her chance to protect me, and she chose Tank over me. She’s just as liable for my life there as he is.

We stroll deeper into the park, surrounded by a hush that feels oddly intimate. My feet slowly begin to ache from the heels Keira insisted that I wear.

Fox glances at me out of the corner of his eye, and I notice how his expression shifts from amusement to curiosity. “What’s on your mind?” he asks abruptly.

“I usually don’t do this,” I admit, biting my lip, trying to digest the whirlwind of emotions dancing within me since our first encounter. “People like you… well, they terrify me.”

“You’ve been around bikers before? Not just the cover models who play them like earlier today?”

"Indirectly, yes. But I've moved on from that life. I don't want to dwell on it anymore." The less Fox knows about Tank, the better.

“Fair enough,” he answers. I take a deep breath and step forward, allowing Fox to guide me deeper into the night. The cool air wraps around us like a promise, and with every step, I feel that electric pull toward him intensifying.

“Tell me about this grandmother of yours,” I say suddenly.

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