Page 111 of On The Rocks

“Thanks.”

He laughed and dropped a quick kiss on my cheek. “Take some meds.”

“Already ahead of you.” I dug my keys out of my pocket. “Want me to pick you up?”

He shook his head. “We’ll take my truck. Can’t have your princess Jeep in the parking garage.”

I snorted. “She’s been through worse but sounds good to me.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up in a few hours. I’ll text when I’m on the way.”

I was about to slip away, when he dragged me in for a hot, head-spinning kiss. “Pack a bikini.”

“Who says I have one?”

“You have one.”

I grinned. “Maybe. Telling me to wear one will get you the most matronly one I have.”

He grabbed my ass. “And you’d still be a smoke show in it.”

I laughed as I pushed him away and headed out the door.

The trip to my place took a little longer than usual with the sun shining high in the sky. It was a perfect Sunday for a drive. I was tempted to take off my hard top, but it was more trouble than it was worth since I’d be gone for a few days.

When it came to April, the rain came in mean whenever it wanted. I settled for windows down and my tunes up. Mumford & Sons blasted out as I traveled the winding road to my apartment building.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, adding to the excitement about going to see what could be the future home of Daphne’s. I was cruising along when suddenly a black motorcycle crawled up my ass.

It was a crotch-rocket style. Instead of slowing down, it revved its engine enough that I heard it above the wind and my radio.

“What the fuck?” I slowed down to let them pass me, but whoever was driving just slowed down only to catch up again and practically kiss my bumper.

I tapped my brakes, hoping to let them know to back off before something happened.

I glanced in my rearview, but I couldn’t see anything but someone hugging the bike in a low crouch with a jet-black helmet.

A horn blared and I swore as I swerved just before I drifted into oncoming traffic because of the tight turns on this part of the road.

The motorcycle buzzed by me, a hair away from the oncoming car and mine. I slammed on my brakes and fishtailed, skidding onto the side of the road.

“Asshole.”

I could see it was a woman, or a damn skinny dude, but there was no tag on the back of the bike.

Heart thundering, I lifted a shaking hand to my face.

The car in the other lane kept going, leaving me alone on the shoulder.

I collapsed against my headrest while Mumford & Sons ramped up with piano and drums blaring. I snapped off the radio and took a deep breath.

Motorcycles always made me nervous, but that was some reckless garbage.

I took a few deep breaths to even myself out before pulling back onto Mitchell Drive. Luckily, it was only a mile from my apartment.

I parked, and on my way to my building, I saw a motorcycle.

Surely, that wasn’t the same one.

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