Page 57 of How Sweet It Is

I look at my work clothes, a blue blazer and slacks. They’re perfectly acceptable. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Where we’re going, you’ll need some good old-fashioned jeans. You do own a pair, right?” He raises one eyebrow at me.

I frown, not liking where this is going. Is he taking me to a mud-wrestling pit or something? “Yes, I own jeans. Why? Where are you taking me?”

“Relax. It’s just a bar with some really great greasy food. Let me finish up here, and we’ll head out.”

I nod and turn away, pretending to inspect the ingredients he keeps on his shelving unit. But my stomach flips like I just jumped off a cliff.

This is not a date, I remind myself. And yet, it’s starting to feel a lot like one.

Levi puts away the cleaning supplies, and we leave out the back door. He pulls out a helmet and hands it to me, not even asking if I’ll ride on his motorcycle.

I stare at it for a second, my fingers brushing the glossy black shell. He doesn’t coax or tease. Just waits, quiet and steady, like he already knows I’ll say yes.

Hesitation makes me pause before I take the helmet and slide it on. The strap clicks into place with finality.

If I’m going to do this, I might as well go the whole way. Rafe isn’t here to stop me. What could possibly happen?

I could have a wonderful time. Ooh. Big deal.

Levi swings his leg over the bike then looks back at me with a grin. “Now, be careful. I don’t want you to get addicted to this.”

“Addicted to the motorcycle or you?” I ask, already swinging my leg over.

He tosses me a look over his shoulder. “Yes.”

I cling to Levi as we roar down the quiet island streets, the wind tugging at my clothes. Tugging away words I’ll never say. By the time we pull up to my apartment, my pulse is still chasing the ride.

Levi kills the engine and looks back at me, lifting his helmet. “You haven’t fallen for me yet, have you?”

“Absolutely not,” I say, breathless.

He laughs, hopping off and pulling the helmet from my head. His fingers brush back my hair, and for a second, it’s hard to breathe for a completely different reason.

“You’ve got helmet hair,” he murmurs, tucking a stray strand behind my ear.

I retreat a step. “Give me five minutes. I promise to come back in appropriate bar attire.”

He grins. “You better. I’m taking you somewhere where linen has no business existing.”

I run up my steps and enter my apartment. I quickly change out of my work clothes, and I pull my hair from my bun. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right. My hair flows as I run a brush through it a few times. The bun has left some unnatural waves in my hair, but I don’t hate it.

I step outside in a soft white T-shirt and my most comfortable jeans, the pair I wear when no one is looking. My hair is down, hanging down my back. I tug at the hem of the shirt as I shut the door, suddenly aware of how casual I look. I feel a little odd, but that’s the theme for this evening.

Levi turns around from where he’s straddling the bike and stops cold. His gaze sweeps over me once then returns to my face with something new in his expression. Not just attraction. Not just surprise.

Something closer to awe.

“Wow,” he says, low and reverent.

I lift an eyebrow as I descend the steps. “That bad?”

He gets off the bike, walking a slow circle around me, eyes dancing. “No, no. Not bad. I just… didn’t know you owned clothes that didn’t look like they came with a company laptop.”

I know that’s not true. He saw me in my SpongeBob T-shirt. I smack his shoulder, and he laughs, but there’s heat in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

“You look good, Amelia.”

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