Page 23 of Dear Pink

“It’s okay. Relax. It’s alright. I won’t let go,” I say when she spins around. Her gray eyes pierce mine. Damn, they’re frantic. This is no child, it’s a terrified woman with the most striking eyes.

“Oh my,” she says, her voice a whisper after the relentless screaming. “I saw my whole life flash before me.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Death by Flag Pole Hill doesn’t sound fun.”

She gives me the widest grin, and my heartbeat ratchets up a bit. Her eyes meet mine, and I examine the rest of her, the pink helmet, the pink tank top, and her tight in-all-the-right places short shorts. She matches her bubble gum bike, which wobbles in my hands. The frame might fall apart at any minute. I wonder if she understands her bike’s a piece of junk.

“Your bike is falling apart, Pink.” She mumbles something I don’t quite hear. “It needs tightening in a few places. Were you learning to ride for the first time?” I don’t want to discourage her if this is her first time on a bike.

Without missing a beat, she says, “No. I can ride a bike.”

Damn it. I hope I didn’t hurt her feelings.

She bites her lip, and I want to soothe it with my tongue. Where did that thought come from? Her body weight shifts and her small back leans into my chest. Her muscles relax into me, and we almost cuddle. The reality is we’re suspended half-way on a steep hill while I awkwardly prop up both of us plus the two bikes. She feels unbelievable against my chest. I’m reluctant to say anything, but I might face-plant us both if I don’t make a move soon.

“What do you wanna do here?” I ask, and her body sinks deeper into mine. I want to lift her off the bike and hold her on my lap. Holy shit, where did that insane thought come from? I’m losing it. I don’t want to hold a stranger. Or do I? She says something I miss again and moves away from me. I redistribute my weight, making sure the bikes don’t fall, and notice a light wind blow in the space she left. She frowns now. Did I offend her?

Our gazes meet, and I can’t pull away. Her lips pout a little, and I’m mesmerized by how luscious they are, begging for me. I’m so close to her I could lean in and kiss that extraordinary mouth. I shake my head, erasing the image. No way in hell I’m kissing a woman I don’t know. Hell, I might never kiss another woman ever again. I’ll probably wind up a crazy cat man. Is that a thing? I wonder where Tonya buys her cat props. Will I have to wear a cat backpack? I glance over and find Pink staring. I didn’t say any of that out loud, did I?

I refocus on the current issue of her bike. “Do you wanna jump off the bike and walk it? Or do you wanna ride to the top? I think with your frame issues, that isn’t a great idea.”

“My frame issues? What’s wrong with my body?” She gives me a look that kills. I can’t help but smile. I watch her jump off her bike and note how short she is. I want to say, “I love your frame—it’s a magnificent frame—” but I’ll sound like a creeper. No sense in freaking the poor woman out a second time.

I have two bikes in my hand now and wish for a third arm to tug her close. Where are these insane thoughts coming from? I don’t want to grab an unfamiliar woman at the lake. Focus Gabe. I want to assist her, not undress her. What’s wrong with me?

“Thank you for helping me,” she says in a more formal-sounding voice and frowns.

Geez, she must already think I’m a jerk. I laugh awkwardly. I want to make her laugh with me, but I fail every time. Why is she riding an old Huffy on this treacherous hill? I want to ask her name.

“You’re funny, Pink,” I say instead.

She cocks her head in question but only says, “Thank you, again.”

I feel dismissed. I take off my helmet. Maybe I’m overheating. When I do, she stumbles and almost falls over her bike. Does this woman have two left feet?

“It’s you?” she says.

Is she one of the crazy yoga pant ladies with phantom pet issues? I check around for one of my sisters hiding in the bushes? Did Gloria put Pink up to this stunt? If this is a blind date, then it’s the best one I’ve had. I can’t keep my eyes from roaming over her fit body. I avert my gaze, but damn if my eyes don’t keep meeting hers. This woman demands my attention, but I’m unprepared to date, especially not this spectacular woman. My heart can’t take another pounding.

“Me? I’m sorry, do we know one another?” Please don’t say from the vet. Please don’t be a setup. I’ll kill Gloria.

I’m relieved when she says, “No, my error. I mistook you for someone else.” She moves to take her bike out of my hands. “I’ll take my bike from here.”

I lean forward into her space. “Here, let me help. This hill’s steep.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Thank goodness she laughs. It’s an adorable snort-laugh too. Oh, man. I’m hooked on this woman.

I want her to laugh again. I want to listen to anything she has to say, so I push for more information. “I’m impressed you tried the climb on this bike.”

“You are?” She doesn’t meet my eyes.

I want to keep her attention. “Sure. When I first started biking, this hill took me a year to tackle without trouble. I had the correct gears too. If you want to bike Flag Pole Hill, you might consider a new bike. I don’t think your pink one, while super cute, will survive it.” I sound like a pompous asshole bike know-it-all. I need to shut my mouth and let her talk.

“Yeah, well, I gotta go.”

Damn it. She hates me because I’m a mansplainer. My sisters are right. I have to stop pontificating about bikes. While I’m lost in my thoughts, Pink walks faster. She peers over her shoulder at me, and I lift my eyebrows in question.

“I’m gonna be late for . . .” She doesn’t finish. A beat later, she begins a slow-jog, but she’s moving in quicksand. Her body looks like it’s running on a treadmill. The old bike is heavy, and she’s barely pushing it forward. I walk beside her, prepared to catch the bike at any minute, or her if she falls. Maybe she reads my mind because she says, “I don’t need help.”

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