Page 179 of Guarding Grace
“Terry, I’m scared. I’m worried that you’ll get tired of me being bitchy and always busy.”
He laughed, really laughed. “That’s one thing you don’t need to worry about.”
“Are you sure?”
“Kitten, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
I sighed and hugged him as tightly as I could. “I wanted to say it earlier, but I couldn’t get up the nerve?—”
He pulled my chin up. “I know. I love you too.”
My gasp was unintentional. “I was going to say I was falling for you,” I admitted.
“The L-word scares you?”
“Everything about this scares me.”
“I’ll wait. Now I have something to tell you.”
“Talking can wait.” I wasn’t spending one more minute waiting for my full-throttle life to begin. “I want to ride the rocket.”
He lifted me up. “I like the way your mind works.” He moved toward the bedroom.
“Not that rocket,” I objected. “The one downstairs. Will you take me for a ride?”
The disappointment on his face was clear. “Woman, you have the oddest set of priorities.”
“I’ve never been on a bike before.”
“Okay.” He smiled. “With the wind in your face, it’s a sense of freedom like nothing else.”
“I want you to open it up. I want to experience the ride at full throttle.”
“We can do that.”
We went down to the garage where he outfitted me with a leatherjacket a dozen sizes too big and handed me a helmet. “We can talk to each other over Bluetooth with these.”
I climbed on behind him, wrapped my arms around him, and was surprised at how quiet the bike was when he started the engine.
“Hold on.” He twisted the throttle and the acceleration pulled me backward—hold onwas right.
I grabbed him tighter.
He took us through the city streets, toward Malibu. “I have some news,” he began.
“Later. Don’t you dare ruin this.” I concentrated on the lean into each turn, and the sprint to the next intersection.
Eventually he got us on the Pacific Coast Highway. “Hold on,” he repeated when an open section of road appeared. “You asked for full throttle.”
The noise was deafening, and everything became a blur.
“I love it,” I screamed. “When can I drive?”
“Never.” He laid on the brakes for a corner.
I didn’t like that answer.
“Elliot is alive,” he added.
