Page 32 of Only Between Us

“Get in. I’m taking you to work.”

A beat passes in silence. “Why?”

I stare pointedly at the red helmet. It’s a bit heavy-duty for a bicycle, but to each their own. “You said your car’s in the shop.”

What else was I supposed to do with that information? Let her fend for herself?

Siena hugs the helmet to her chest. “Actually, it’s in a vehicular graveyard. But I still have my bike.”

She jabs a thumb over her shoulder. I look for the bicycle inquestion, the one she said she rode all the way to the Huskies stadium last night. But the only thing behind her is a cherry-red motorcycle, in the same shade as her helmet.

My entire body goes cold. It’s not a bicycle. She rode a goddamnmotorcyclefrom Baycrest to Oakwood?

I suck in a long breath, forcing away the sudden tension in my shoulders. It doesn’t matter.

Who cares if this woman seems to have a death wish? Between following me, a stranger, to an unnamed location the day we met, and riding a fuckingmotorcycleof all things, I have serious doubts about her desire for self-preservation.

But that’s not my problem.

“And you call that a responsible riding outfit?” I demand, apparently making it my problem.

Siena takes in the overalls she’s wearing, and the protective leathers she’s not. “It’s fine, it’s just a five-minute ride to the boardwalk. I’ve been riding my bike for years.”

“When does your new car come in?”

“I’m pretending to date you for money, Attwood. What part of that says that I have a new car on the way?”

Fuck. I figured this morning’s detour from Oakwood to Baycrest would only happen once or twice, until she got her car fixed. It’s shaving precious time off my morning training session—time I can’t afford to lose, assuming I’ll land an invite to the Rebels’ training camp in a couple of months.

I rub my face with my hands. What the hell is she thinking, riding that thing?

Not that I care…

“New rule: no motorcycles for the length of this sham relationship.” I hesitate. “Do whatever you want when we break up.”

Theoretically, how hard would it be to destroy a motorcycle beyond repair, without raising suspicion?

“Brooks, no. You can’t make up unreasonable rules. How do you expect me to get around?”

“This is Baycrest. Everything is within walking distance.” I gesture at my steering wheel. “Besides, I’m here, aren’t I? You’re on my way to training.”

Training which I’m already late for. May as well take an extra few minutes after I drop her off to come back and run that bike over with my car.

“Baycrest is on the way to training?” Siena says slowly.

I check the parking lot perimeter for security cameras. “Yeah.”

“The training you do at UOB? Which is in Oakwood. Where you live.” She breaks into a teasing smile when I only stare. “You worried about little ol’ me, Brooks Attwood?”

I force my jaw to unclench. “I’m worried about my fake girlfriend ending up as roadkill on the side of the street, just as we got this thing going. Get in the car, Pippen.”

She’s laughing to herself as she rounds the car and tosses her helmet in the back seat. “Careful. Someone might get the impression you don’t hate your completely repulsive fake girlfriend as much you let on.”

“You’re not completely repulsive.”

“Really?” Siena fans herself. “You have such a natural way of making a girl feel special.”

My focus snags on her wide smile. My stomach dips. Adrenaline hits my bloodstream, same as it did the first time she ever smiled at me.

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