Page 56 of Final Serenade

The text alert came in at around four thirty. An hour after the call, as he’d promised.

Outside,the message read.

What are you doing, Cassy?my voice said as I rushed through the courtyard, my heart drumming out a wicked war beat.

Thick fog crawled through the quiet tree-lined street. There was no car waiting for me, but I heard the rumble of an engine and noticed the headlights long before the bike came into view.

The tightness inside my chest grew. My breath hitched. I had no idea why I’d forgiven him so fast and why I’d agreed to this madness. My irrational behavior went against all my rules.

Gloved hands on the grips, he sat on a black Harley in the middle of the street, looking unfazed. A matching black helmet hid his face, but I knew it was Frank.I felt him. I felt his anxiety blending with mine.

The man was psycho to get on a bike again after what happened to him. Along with his sanity, I questioned my own, but it wasn’t the time or the place to demand an explanation. He had his reasons. Whether he was going to share them with me didn’t matter at the moment.

If we let our insecurities and fears rule our lives, we may never get to live the way we really want or should.

I zipped up my jacket and neared the bike. A charge of electricity crackled through the foggy air between us. My nerve endings prickled, my limbs tingled with anticipation. I shamelessly dragged my gaze along the length of Frank’s body. Drinking him in. Savoring each and every detail of the clothes he wore. Fitted black leather jacket. Stretch denim jeans. Army boots.And, boy, did he own this look.The man screamed danger.

No words were said. Not that I needed any.

Frank grabbed an extra helmet from the back of the seat and handed it to me. Worry swarmed in my stomach as I slipped it over my head. The glass darkened the street and it seemed as if I’d become part of a different reality.His reality.My pulse raced and my heart banged against my ribcage so hard it hurt. Frank threw the kickstand up with the tip of his boot and motioned for me to get on the bike.

I grabbed a hold of his shoulder and climbed behind him. My arms encircled his thin waist, palms splayed over his tight abs. He was hot, his every muscle tense.

I breathed in deep, inhaling his scent. Sandalwood. Oil. Fear. Adrenaline. The man was my dirty secret. My drug. My ruin. Although my head was spinning, being with him made my panic subside and my worries fall away.

The bike roared to life and I felt the jolt. My body jerked as we started to move, and I dug my fingers into the leather of Frank’s jacket. His gloved hand covered mine to readjust my grip as we rode through a foggy tunnel. Yellow pole lights flashed in the corners of my eyes when he sped up. I scooted closer and pressed my chest to his back, needing to feel his solid presence. My skin buzzed where our thighs connected, and I wanted to lose the helmet and ride with my lips on the nape of his neck and his hair in my face, but I knew that probably wasn’t a good idea.

We cruised through the quiet streets for a while, then jumped on the freeway. I had no idea where Frank was taking me. All I knew was that we were going north on 5 until we hit 18. Cold wind danced in my sleeves and under my collar. After Porter Ranch, Frank took the narrow, serpentine mountain road that weaved through the Malibu canyons.

We rode for what seemed like forever. My body trembled. I held on to Frank as if he was my lifeline, and in a way, he was. And maybe I was his. I couldn’t tell, but I felt his fear becoming mine. I felt his confusion. I didn’t know what had caused them, but they were under my skin and in my blood, and we were whole while we rode on that bike. I was him and he was me, and it was the scariest and the wildest adventure of my entire life.

He slowed down near a scenic overlook and pulled over to the shoulder on the edge of the cliff. Swirls of dust greeted us as we got off the bike. A lonely pole light illuminated the road sign.

My legs shook and my clothes clung to my body uncomfortably.

I assumed that if it were daytime, we’d be looking at the side of the mountain. But right now, we were looking at a whole lot of pitch-black.

Frank was quiet. Without offering any explanation as to why we’d come here, he walked over to the wooden rail and slid off his helmet. The soft breeze tousled his thick sandy hair.

As I approached him, my gaze swept over his back, studying the outline of his body. Then we stood mute for a few minutes, facing the darkness. I waited. I didn’t want to disturb the moment of stillness that had settled between us.

Frank broke the silence first. “I’m sorry I disappeared.” He spun to face me, helmet still in his hand, and his eyes sought mine. They were infinite storms and I couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t one I’d seen before.

I drew a deep breath, expecting him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I spoke my mind, “Well, you know what? It fucking sucked. You made me feel like I was merely another plaything who didn’t even get a rejection letter.”

Rock star or not, he deserved to hear the truth.

“I didn’t mean to.” He stepped toward me, his eyes lowering to my mouth.

“Look… I don’t have any illusions about what we are or who you are.” I rolled my shoulders. My body ached after the ride. “If you have other things to do or other women to see and you don’t intend to keep this”—I waved my hand at the shrinking space between us—“going anymore, I need you to be honest about it. You can just say ‘Cassy, it’s over. Can you please delete my phone number?’ I won’t take it personally. And I won’t get upset. I swear. I’m a big girl and I can assure you that my panties will not be in a wad.”

“I won’t ask you to delete my phone number.” He shook his head lightly and took another step in my direction. “Now about the panties…” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. His face lit up. What was it about underwear? One mention of it and men entered puberty again.

“I know you lead a very decadent lifestyle, so I really won’t be offended if you decide to call it quits.” Although I wasn’t certain what exactly he and I were. An almost fling?

His brow arched. “Decadent? You’re throwing some big words at me, smarty pants.”

“What can I say? Rock stars come and go. A thesaurus will forever be my one and only loyal booty call.”

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