Page 58 of Average Joe

To which Frank replied, “Joe’s the best rider I know. You’re safer on the back of his bike than in a tank.”

“You’re my next-door neighbor.” Joe curled his fingers around my elbow. “Makes sense that I drive you.”

“Fine. Fine.” I threw up my arms, clearly the underdog in the argument. “Thanks again, guys. I appreciate your help so much.” I blew kisses around the table.

Joe grunted, then grabbed my hand and stomped toward the exit.

Caveman move, for sure.

Our hands fit like a plug into a socket, tight and right, and oh jeez, I was energized.

Still, I wiggled free of his grip, grumbled, “I can walk on my own,” then pushed past the man-beast and led the way to his Harley, squinting against the blinding reflection of the chrome.

While Joe worked on freeing the helmets from their locks, I drew three deep breaths, trying to slow my racing pulse, the anticipation of the ride almost unbearable.

“Turn around. Let me get you situated.” While he settled the smaller of the two on my head, our breaths mingling, his eyes burning and bright, he said, “It’s a beautiful day. Wanna go for a ride before we head home?”

“Yes,” escaped my mouth before I had time to strategize, gather my bearings, or form a defense.

His chuckle hit me in the gut, warming my insides. “I hoped you’d say that.”

He’d brought extra head protection for what? Just in case he bumped into me? Who did that?

He adjusted his own helmet, straddled his bike, then gave me the okay. “This your first time?”

“On a bike?” I swung my leg over and scooted close, happy to find wide rear floorboards to settle my feet. “No. But I was a kid, so I’m a little rusty.”

“Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’ll take it easy on ya.” The bike growled to life, and I cinched my arms around his waist, thankful for the face shield to hide my widening grin.

Before rolling into traffic, Joe said over his shoulder, “We won’t go far. You’re not dressed for a proper ride.”

Go far? Who cared? My arms were around a gorgeous man, a rumbling machine between my legs. Open road. Pure, unadulterated joy. Five hours or ten minutes. Didn’t matter. Heaven had stretched her arms and wrapped me in a hug.

Joe headed south, then cut through several residential streets until we were winding down a hidden road that led to Puget Sound.

The secluded stretch of beach was empty of humans. A wet dog chased a crow into the water, then trotted back to the sand, shook his long black fur, and then disappeared into the tall grass leading to a cluster of homes on the hill.

We dismounted. Joe helped me out of my helmet, took my hand, and led me to a weathered log. He sat, and I stood. Barges trolled through the water, and in the distance, two sailboats looked as if they’d collide, only to pass each other and continue in opposite directions.

“This is a great spot.” I turned to find him staring up at me, a tinge to his cheeks. “Come here often?”

“No. Found it on my way to pick up Ginger from her foster family.”

Our gazes locked, and my chest expanded against the rapid knocking. Stupid, traitorous heart.

Joe was, quite simply, beautiful.

“It was really great of you and your friends to help me out today.”

With a shrug, he said, “Neighbors take care of each other.”

“You remind me of Alice, ya know?”

“Yeah?” His lips tilted in a heartwarming grin. “How so?”

“She watched out for everyone, too.” I could no longer tolerate the white-hot lick of his attention and turned again to take in the scenery.

“She was a great woman.” He grunted, standing, then stood by my side. “Helped raise me.”

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