Page 17 of Whirlwind

“I’m not going in there.” Her sharp voice was a definitive pronouncement. “We can go to the Grand. I’ve got stuff there.”

I got on my bike. “Get on.”

Her eyes flared, lips parted. She froze. “I’ve got my car—”

“Get. On.”

I ignited my Harley, and Violet held my steady gaze, the engine roaring underneath me. Her chin lifted slightly. A dare.

She got on in one quick move, swinging herself on the back of my bike, hands to my waist. I closed my eyes for a second at the press of her hands, her weight on my bike. I handed Violet my helmet as Wes’s gaze darted from me to Violet and back to me. “We were going to hang out tonight, kids. We were—”

“Sissy’s in there working the floor.” Violet adjusted the helmet. “You don’t want to miss it.”

“She’s expecting me. That’s why I thought we’d—”

“Sorry, Wes. Can’t do it tonight.” I hit the kickstand. “I’ll call you tomorrow first thing. I promise.”

Wes let out a sigh. “You better. Violet, take care of him.”

“I will.”

I tore out of the Tingle parking lot, Violet’s grip on my middle tightening. My pulse blasted along with my engine.

Together, we escaped into the dark night.

8

Violet

I wason the back of Beck Lanier’s bike.

Beck Lanier, my good friend’s buddy.

Beck Lanier, the son of my mom’s good friend.

Beck Lanier, famous rock star, accomplished musician, hot as fuck hottie, adored by women the world over.

Beck Lanier, the guy I’d had on a pedestal for years because he was a fantastic musician, and, most especially, after sharing one amazing life-transforming conversation and the most sensual, sexiest kiss of my life.

Holy.

Shit.

And I’d just punched him in his gorgeous face.

Fuck!

We jetted down the single road from the Tingle that led into Meager. The distinctive scent of the pine and aspen forest that lined the road gave the air here a different quality from the parking lot of the strip club. Clean, resin-scented, sweet, crisp. I closed my eyes and sucked it in, willing it to clear the pollution I’d just ingested inside the nightclub.

We sped on in the darkness, and the scent of Beck’s leather jacket filled my senses as I held onto him through the blast of cold wind.

I am holding onto Beck on his incredible Harley.

We got into town, the main drag empty except for the filled parking lot of Pete’s Tavern. Pete’s, where a million years ago Beck and I’d had shared an unforgettable connection and a kiss. Since then I’d only seen him once more at the coffee house, when he’d stopped by with Wes and I’d made them coffees and brought them over to their table. It hadn’t been awkward, only brief, simple. Both of us had been pleased to see the other. At that point it had been three years since our conversation and (unforgettable for me) kiss.

I had wondered, though, did he even remember it? He’d probably plowed through a ton of women since that night, being that his rock band had taken off and kept getting hotter and bigger. What was one kiss with a local girl?

A couple blocks down from the bar, Beck turned into the back lot of the Meager Grand Cafe and brought his bike to a stop. I unbolted the three locks on the back door, and as I shoved the keys in my pocket, he reached over me and pulled on the heavy door, his woodsy clean scent hitting me, and I stilled for a second. Same fragrance as that night. My muscles clenched, my entire body remembering with a rush of stinging heat.

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