Page 12 of Peaches

It’s enough for me to find my bravery, to grip the sides of the helmet and pull it over my head, the pressure of it squeezing uncomfortably against my ears. “No, it’s okay,” I finally say.

Even through the dark-tinted visor in this unlit parking lot, I catch the surprise in Rhett’s features. After a beat, he steps toward me, reaching to gently fasten the helmet’s straps below my chin. His fingers are careful as they make adjustments to tighten it against my skin without choking me, just until the helmet fits snugly. He gives it a light shake for good measure, and when my whole body moves in response, a new smile plays on his lips.

“Thank you,” I say, though I have no idea if he can hear me through all the plastic and fiberglass.

He inhales a breath and lets it out in a whoosh before turning back to the bike, pulling a pair of gloves from one of the bags that hangs from the side. When he pushes the key into the slot and turns the ignition, the bike comes to life with a thunderous roar that racks my whole body.

He turns to look at me as he pulls off his cowboy hat, tucking it carefully beneath a bungee strap on top of the back wheel well. “You ready?” I force myself to nod, though I’m second-guessing this thing with every moment that passes. He swings a strong leg over the seat and sinks down, knocking the kickstand up with the heel of his boot. “All right,” he calls back to me over the noise of the engine. “Get on.”

I must hesitate for too long because he turns to look at me. His dark curls are wild from being trapped in his hat all day, a lock seemingly glued to his forehead, and I realize he doesn’t have a helmet for himself. That he’s given me the onehewears. “Olivia,” he presses again, “get on the bike.”

The command is soft and somehow knowing, but his assuredness in our safety is a balm over the rattling anxiousness I feel expanding inside of me. It’s what finally pushes me over the line in the sand, pressing my hands down on the backs of his shoulders for balance as I mimic his move and swing my leg over the seat of the bike.

I settle behind him, my head heavy beneath the weight of the helmet, and slide my hands down his back, fearful that if I lose any ounce of contact with his body, I might spontaneously tip right over and onto the ground. I band my arms around his middle, and before I know it, he takes off with a jolt.

CHAPTERFIVE

RHETT

Iget all the way to the main road before realizing I never asked Olivia where she lives.

Guilt washes over me for convincing her to get on my bike in the first place—she was obviously scared of it. Plus, I have an ironcladno girlrule for the bike that I’ve upheld for nearly four years. Just like everything else in life, I’ve had to learn the hard way that I have no business being responsible for anyone else. I mean, no one’s ever gotten hurt from getting on the back of it, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been reckless. More reckless than I care to admit, especially to someone as good and sweet as Olivia.

Shame clenches tight. Serves me right for getting involved in any of this in the first place.

It’s not that I have athingfor her—I know damn well to stay out of Saddlebrook Falls when I’m looking for the company of a lady. This town is full of people who have made a mockery of my family over and over and over again—it would be blasphemous against everything I stand for to start crushing on some girl who exists right in the heart of it all. Everyone knows her mother’s café is practically a hub for the gossip-obsessed old birds who’d sooner snicker and laugh about an old man when he’s down than try to help. It’s a wonder they don’t burn on the spot when they walk into their cherished church every Sunday morning.

I can’t stand to think too much about the hypocrisy of it all. As if these people haven’t experienced their own shit.

Olivia’s always been nice enough, but I could never trust someone like her. I don’t know what came over me tonight . . . I guess hearing the wordsalmost didn’t swipeandjust a waitresscoming out of her loser date’s mouth sent a violent wave of fury through me so overwhelming, I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was already done. And while kicking that guy out of the bar was well worth it—and helped to siphon out some of the hostility that’s been brewing in me for months—seeing the shock and hurt on her face was jolting enough to make me wonder if I’d done the right thing.

She waited for you, I silently counter. That has to count for something, right?

As pissed as she is at me for ruining her night, she still stayed.

It spins something loose inside of me, something long wound tight, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

“Hey,” I shout over the rumble of the bike, hoping she can hear me. “Where am I taking you?”

I feel her shift behind me, her arms squeezing tighter around my waist as she leans her head forward over my shoulder. “What?!” she shouts back.

I turn my face toward hers as far as I can while still keeping my eyes on the road. “Where am I taking you?” I try again.

“It’s good, thanks!” Her chin swipes across the shoulder of my jacket as she pulls her face back.

A low laugh spills out of my mouth as I slow the bike down. There’s a turnout up ahead where I can pull over and get her address. Carefully navigating the bike over crumbling asphalt onto the loose rock of the wide shoulder, we come to a stop and I brace the weight of us on both legs. Before I can even turn the engine off, Olivia is climbing off the back of the bike.

“Careful!” I shout, suddenly terrified she’s going to burn her leg on the engine. She’s wearing jeans, thank god, but still—the last thing I need is her getting hurt, especially after I promised her she wouldn’t.

“Wow,” she exclaims as she stomps over gravel, shaking her arms out around either side of her, completely oblivious to my warning. “That was incredible!” She looks at me with eyes full of wonder, and even through the bulk of my helmet, her beauty nearly knocks me right off the bike.

“What was?” I ask, moving my focus back to the bike as I turn the key and shove the attraction away.

She waves a hand around. “That. You. The ride.”

I’m almost ashamed at the sheer pride roaring to life inside my chest at her words. “You liked it?”

“Liked it?” she repeats, tipping her head back like she’s about to howl at the moon. “I loved it! Can we go again?”

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