Page 28 of Eight Seconds to Fly

“And Dylan, because I am not stupid. I see the way you look at him. I want to know that when you pick me, you will never wonder if I was the right choice or if he was the one that got away. So Dylan too.”

I blinked. Then blinked again. Dylan I understood, but Branch? “But Branch loathes me.”

Frankie threw back his head and laughed, his arms reaching for me and pulling me into his lap. “Ah, Tessa. You truly are beautifully oblivious.” He kissed the corner of my mouth and I melted into his body. “You don’t have to agree to anything now. Just think about it.” He took my bottom lip between his teeth and sucked it hard. “But sampling the merchandise cannot be a bad idea, right?”

Nope. Not bad at all.

9

Although Frankie and I had a serious make out session last night, we’d eventually broken apart, laid down on separate sides of the bed and pretended to go to sleep because I didn’t want to rush things. This wasn’t a shitty one night stand where I could leave the state and forget it ever happened.

Instead, I’d laid awake and thought about all the shit that could go wrong, and then somewhere around two a.m. I let myself think about how amazing it could be if everything went right.

At three a.m. I thought about how likely it would be that I could keep both Frankie and Beau. Hell, even Dylan. Branch… I didn’t know what the fuck was going on with Branch.

At four a.m. I remembered someone telling me about a breed of hyenas that gave birth out of their clitoris, so I googled it.

At five a.m. I fell into a traumatized sleep.

But it was my turn to drive first, so at eight a.m. I was barely awake but highly caffeinated, and we were on the road. Frankie had zonked out in the passenger seat ten minutes into our drive. I think we’d both been pretending to sleep last night.

I turned up the stereo, letting some classic country blare through the speakers. This is what they never told you about being a rider. It's all adrenaline and that wild rush for five minutes a week, then the rest of the time it was patching yourself up and these long, lonely stretches of road.

I looked at Frankie’s thick lashes lying on his sharp cheekbones. He was beautiful when he slept, though I doubted he’d appreciate the adjective. His bottom lip jutted out a little more, his golden skin looking infinitely strokable in the warm morning light.

“Stop staring and watch the road,” he muttered, and I blushed as my eyes shot back to the front of the truck. When I looked at him out of the corner of my eyes, his lips were pulled up in a smug smile.

I glared out the windshield. “You can drive if you have such a problem with it.”

He opened one eye and looked at me. “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed,Querida?”

Maybe. On top of sleep deprivation, I had an emotional hangover from the weekend. I achieved my dream, well at least the first step of it. Branch and Beau, my past, were back in my present. Dylan was there, tempting me like a sex god. And Frankie was declaring love in some macho claiming gesture.

Instead of saying any of that, I shrugged. It was still four hours until Texarkana. I didn’t want to have a heavy conversation then be stuck in a tin can sucking on awkwardness for the rest of the trip.

He straightened up and stretched. “Wanna stop in Nacogdoches at that waffle place? Then I’ll drive for a bit?”

I couldn’t say no to waffles, which Frankie damn well knew. I nodded, and when Frankie threaded his fingers through mine where they rested on the stick shift, I let a small smile tilt my lips. This was nice.

Frankie pumped the music when “The Git Up” by Blanco Brown came on the radio. Frankie loved to dance. He danced at any opportunity, and he led my two left feet like I was Ginger Rogers. As the music blared around the cabin of the truck, he managed to dance with his whole body despite the fact he was strapped in. It was a talent.

“Come on, Tessa. Dance,” he coaxed, shimmying closer to me, even as I rolled my eyes. But I gave a half hearted shimmy, making him shake his head and sing louder.

Frankie wasn’t just hot, though god knew he was. Tall and lean, his eyes smoldered and his smile promised a good time. But he was just so damn joyous and he sucked in women like honey. There was no way he could be happy waiting in the wings for me to make up my mind.

The music was suddenly silent. I looked over at Frankie, his smile gone, a frown in its place. “Do not overthink this,Querida. I have waited my whole life for you, I can wait the rest of the season. This?” He pointed between us. “This isn’t something ordinary. You are not ordinary. So if I have to share you for a few months? It doesn’t matter. Because for those few months at least I get to have a little of you. More than I ever thought I’d get. Now, stop that brain from churning and dance. And then you’ll have waffles and I can watch you make the O face.”

My mouth dropped open. “I do not do the O face over waffles.”

His grin made my chest fizz. “You do. And you shake your shoulders like this.” He shimmied, cupping his imaginary breasts. “And you make nom nom noises and it isadorável.”

I gave him a droll look. “I am not adorable.”

He leaned over, kissing up my jaw before nipping my ear. “You’re right. You’re sexy as hell. But when you do the food dance, you are adorable.”

I played it cool, rolling my eyes as I turned the music back up.

I was two miles down the road before I realized my cheeks hurt from grinning so wide.

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