Page 19 of Everest

“Next time you walk by a lady on the street, you either show her some goddamn respect or keep pushin’,” Everest growls, his face twisting with anger.

The guy claws at Everest’s hand as his friends plead for Everest to let go.

“He didn’t mean anything by it, man. Really. Can you let him go now?” one friend asks.

“Everything okay, brother?” Nova appears beside us, seemingly bored, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Everest then releases the guy with a shove, and he falls to the dirty sidewalk. His friends crowd around him as he struggles to find his breath.

“We’re cool. Just givin’ this dip shit a little lesson in respect.” Everest turns back toward me. “I’m takin’ London home.”

Nova regards me. “You doin’ okay, sweetheart?”

I give him a weak smile. “Yeah.” Then add, “Will you tell the girls I’m sorry and tell Promise I’ll call her in the morning.”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” Nova and Everest share a look before Nova dips back inside the bar.

Grabbing me by my elbow to keep me steady, Everest leads me down the sidewalk to where my car is parked. “Wait.” I try to stop. “I forgot my purse.”

Everest raises his other hand and produces my small handbag. Nova must have handed it over, but with my attention on the exchange between Everest and polo shirt guy, I missed it. “You know, I’m feeling better. I can drive myself home.”

Everest doesn’t break stride. “Not happenin’.”

We reach the passenger side of my car, where Everest opens the door. Once I’m seated, my eyes follow his trek to the driver’s side, and I watch as he gracefully folds his massive form behind the wheel. There is no small talk on the drive to my apartment, yet surprisingly, the silence between us is comfortable. Soon, exhaustion sets in, and suddenly, I’m having difficulty keeping my eyes open.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, I feel like I’m floating on air, wrapped in a cocoon of muscle, heat, and that familiar smell of pine and whiskey. Cracking my eyes slightly, I mumble, “I can walk.”

“I got you, baby.” Everest’s hot breath whispers against my ear.

I must be dreaming because I could have sworn I heard him call me baby.Yep, definitely dreaming.And because this is a dream I don’t want to wake up from, I bury my face against the column of Everest’s neck and breathe in his scent. “Mmm, you smell good,” I murmur. In my dream, a deep rumble vibrates against my cheek. “I love it when you growl, too. It’s so hot.”

“Fuck,” dream Everest grits.

I yawn. “I think I like that too, mountain man.”

A few moments later, I’m lowered into my bed. Briefly, my eyes flutter open to find Everest standing at my bedroom door, staring at me. “Well, that’s not creepy at all.” I give him a lazy grin.

Everest shakes his head.

“Good night, Everest.”

“Night, baby.”

7

EVEREST

The city fades behind me in a blur of stop lights and taillights as I throttle my Harley onto the open road. New Orleans’ usual mix of music, car horns, and pedestrians soften to a low hum in my rearview. In its place comes the steady roar of my engine, the rush of the wind, and the swampy perfume of the bayou.

Each mile I put between me and the city loosens the tension in my body as the bike’s vibrations seep into my bones. Cypress trees paint the landscape, their branches draped with Spanish moss, or what some call Old Man’s Beard, swaying in the humid breeze. Behind me, the sun is sinking lower, painting the sky in swirls of orange and purple as I drive down the two-lane blacktop that snakes through the swamp. Out here, it’s just me and my bike. The solitude and freedom of the road, working their magic on my soul.

Its tranquility also allows thoughts I’ve been trying to shake to take root, all swirling around one person.

London.

I scowl and twist the throttle, trying to outrun her image. I lean into the road’s curves, focusing on the horizon as the hot, sticky air rushes past me, carrying smells of brackish water andwild jasmine. It fills my lungs and pushes out the remaining unrest.

For now.

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