Page 17 of The Angel and the Agent

“Um, hello, I made it through salon school where I had to learn to deal with women who think I’m somehow going to make them look like the picture of the model they walked in with, so I think I know a little bit about stressful situations,” she told him.

He laughed. “You’re right, it’s totally the same. My apologies.” They reached his motorcycle, and she slid off his back. He reached into the pocket behind the seat, withdrew a helmet, and fastened it over her head.

“No complaints about this ruining your hair?” he questioned.

“You must think I’m so shallow,” she said. “Quick question, can we swing by the salon so I can fix it on the way home?”

He shook his head and helped her onto the bike.

“Um, I’m no safety expert, but this seems like a catastrophe waiting to happen, unless that’s your grand plan to do away with me,” she said, flapping the folds of her long, ankle-length dress.

“May I?” he asked, holding the skirt in his hands.

“Sure,” she said, her tone wary. She watched as he tied the skirt into a tidy bundle so it wouldn’t hang over the wheels.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yes, as long as it’s not one of those complicated sailor knots I’m going to be stuck with forever,” she said.

“It’s a simple figure eight,” he said.

“The fact that you know the name of the knot is sort of hot. Maybe Iamattracted to nerds,” she mused.

“I’m glad I could help you along with your journey toward self-discovery,” he said. She laughed. He hopped on the motorcycle, and they took off.

Chapter 7

Ethan wound through traffic at a dizzying speed. Amelia held on to his waist, pressing her cheek to his back. Eventually they stopped. She sat up and looked around at a part of the city she’d never seen before. He took her hand to help her off the bike.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Perfect,” she replied. “I love motorcycles. My friend from back home had one and used to sneak me for rides whenever my mother wasn’t looking. Sadly, she was almost always looking.”

“You seemed a little frightened,” he said.

“No, I wasn’t scared at all,” she said.

“That’s strange because you were holding on tightly, pressing against me, almost like you were trying to melt into me,” he said.

She was glad it was growing dark so he couldn’t see her cheeks heat with a blush. “I was under the impression that was proper motorcycle passenger etiquette.”

“I guess that explains why your friend used to try to give you so many rides,” he said.

“Her name was Shelly. Things got awkward,” she said, and he laughed.

He led her up some steps and then they climbed for a bit until at last they spilled out onto a cliff overlooking the Potomac. All around them graffiti had been sprayed on the rock walls. It wasn’t the sort of place Amelia would frequent by herself, but with him she felt safe. Scary people might come to this place, but Ethan was far more lethal than anyone they might encounter. They sat and watched in silence as the sun sank low over the river.

“Beautiful,” Amelia murmured.

“It is,” Ethan agreed.

“Come here often?” she asked.

“Nah. When I was a kid and used to travel to DC for various reasons, I scouted out all the cool, out-of-the-way hangouts. Now that I’m elderly and settled, I don’t have time to revisit them. I probably haven’t been here in five years.”

“Since you were my age,” she reminded him. “What were you like then? How have you changed? Because sometimes it’s hard to imagine being any different than I am now, but I know people grow and mature as they get older.”

“Not all people do. Some people seem stuck in a perpetual childhood, like Peter Pan. Only the really good ones are constantly growing and changing,” he said.

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