Page 21 of Boiling Point
“What do I do?” she asked, her voice small and uncertain.
“Start by lowering your visor.”
She obeyed with almost comical caution, her movements stiff and mechanical.
“And relax,” I said with a soft laugh. “Lean with me when we turn.”
“What about my hands?”
“Those,” I said with a grin, “go here.” I guided her hands to my waist. “Just hold on to me.”
She hesitated, her palms hovering before they settled against my sides. Her grip was tight, every muscle coiled as if bracing for calamity. The contact was electrifying.
I started the engine, and it vibrated to life beneath us, its growl shattering the quiet morning air.
“Last chance to back out,” I said over the din, echoing our exchange from the day before.
Her laughter was nervous but defiant. “Do your worst.”
“I’ll get you back home in one piece,” I promised as I flipped down my visor, protectiveness surging through me. Her weight against me was heady and intoxicating.
I eased the bike out of the car park, and Gabrielle’s hold tightened as we picked up speed. The world blurred past us in a kaleidoscope of color and sound—along with my carefully kept boundaries.
We wove through the surface streets, wind whipping around us in exhilarating gusts. Each turn moved like a dance, Gabrielle’s body following mine with growing comfort, her earlier apprehension giving way to trust. The stiffness in her grip gave way to a more relaxed hold as her confidence grew with each passing block.
We approached a red light, and I slowed the bike to a stop and glanced over my shoulder. “How are you holding up?” I asked over the engine’s rumble.
Her laughter was muffled but unmistakably gleeful. “I’m still alive!” she called back, her voice threaded with exhilaration.
“Try to relax a bit more,” I advised, feeling the tension in her grip. “And keep your eyes open. It’s better if you can see the turns coming.”
She nodded, eager but unsure. “I’ll give it a shot,” she said, voice wavering between determination and doubt.
The light changed, and I accelerated smoothly, savoring the way her grip tightened reflexively before loosening again. A surge of something dangerously close to affection caught me as we merged onto the highway, leaving the city behind.
The miles blurred beneath us—asphalt, adrenaline, and the steady thrum of the engine. We crossed the Red River into Oklahoma as clouds dragged lazy shadows over stretches of pastureland and empty sky.
The scenery unfurled like a moving canvas. I merged onto US 377, and the landscape shifted—the prairie stretched beneath a winter-bleached sky, the horizon sharp and unbroken.
The wind knifed through my gear in wild, liberating torrents. Gabrielle’s arms tightened around me—not from fear, I suspected, but from the chill seeping past leather and fleece. She pressed closer, seeking warmth, and I couldn’t deny the satisfaction curling in my chest.
We veered onto OK 7, where the land softened into rolling foothills, dotted with cedar clusters, the bare-limbed oaks and sycamores etched stark against the sky. Gabrielle shifted behind me, her excitement clear in the way she moved, her body instinctively mirroring mine as we descended into the hills surrounding the Chickasaw National Recreation Area.
The air turned crisp with the scent of damp limestone, dormant grass, and the faint trace of evergreen as we slowed to cruise alongside Travertine Creek. The water ran glassy and smooth, reflecting the pale sky, winding through the hush of the winter-stripped woods. I eased off the throttle, coasting toward an overlook where a small waterfall spilled down limestone ledges into a crystal-clear pool below.
Gabrielle lifted her visor, cheeks flushed from wind and cold, eyes wide as she took in the view.
“Wow.” Her voice was breathless. “I had no idea this was so close.”
“It’s one of my favorite places to escape,” I said, removing my helmet, watching her drink in the moment.
“Incredible,” she murmured, fixated on the cascade of water as it tumbled into the pool, the surface smooth except where ripples fanned outward. The landscape, stripped of autumn’s warmth, held a raw beauty—silvered bark, frost-kissed grass, and the dark, unyielding green of the cedars.
She turned to me, her breath clouding faintly. “That drive was…”
I raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Exhilarating,” she confessed, laughing—a sound that wrapped around me like warmth in the cold. “And kind of peaceful, once I started breathing again.”
