Page 6 of Diesel

I laugh at her spunk. It’s not the answer I expect most women to give, but I’ve only known Cassidy for five minutes, and I wouldn’t expect any other answer. “That’s generally how it goes, but what made youwantto become a truck driver?”

She shrugs, clearly uncomfortable talking about herself. “My dad was a driver.” She comes to a stop beside me and stares at my bike like it’s a fire-breathing dragon. “What the hell is that thing?”

“It’s called a motorcycle. You can tell by the two wheels and the handlebar steering.” She glares up at me, and I laugh again.

“Smartass. You sure you know how to drive this thing?”

I laugh again. “You don’tdrivea motorcycle. You ride it or you,” I say and hand her my helmet, “rideonit. Strap it on.”

“You sure you know how toridethis thing?”

“Damn, sure. Hop on, Cassidy. Last chance.” She raises one eyebrow in my direction, a sign she doesn’t trust my skills as a rider. “Or you can walk.”

“Ugh, whatever. Fine. I’m getting on.” She shoves her bag at my midsection and takes the helmet, tugging it down hard. “Doesn’t fit,” she grumbles.

I can’t help but smile because Cassidy is one grumpy chick. “You gotta,” I start and lean forward to reach behind her to easily unravel the leather strap holding her thick brown hair in a ponytail. “Now it’ll fit.”

The shades of green and brown in her eyes swirl and darken before she blinks them all away. “Yeah, thanks.” She snatches the strap from me and shoves it in her pocket once the helmet is secure on her head. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, okay.” I smile, storing her bag before I get settled. “Hop on, Cassidy.”

She’s frowning, which seems to be her default expression.

“Put your hands on my shoulders, step there with your left foot, and swing the other one over the seat.” I can feel the heat in her glare but continue, nonetheless. “and plant your ass.” She’s feisty and proud, and it’s really doing it for me.

After another quick glance at me and then the bike, Cassidy follows my directions and settles behind me. “Now what?”

“Now you can finally get your hands on me like you’ve wanted to since you first saw me.”

Cassidy grunts behind me, but a second later, her arms wrap around my waist, and I feel her chest flush against my back. “This is for my safety,” she says over the roar of the bike. “Not my pleasure.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Cass.”

There’s a motel about two miles from Morgan International that fits her needs perfectly, but I’m having too much fun to say goodbye just yet, so I opt for the scenic route. “This is Angel Harbor,” I shout as we weave through town, showing off local businesses, shops, and homes.

“Hey! We already passed three motels!” Her fist pummels my left shoulder. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“The scenic route,” I tell her with a shrug.

“Stop the bike right now!”

I shake my head. “Sorry, can’t hear you.”

Her hits land harder as we passFor Goodness Cakes, a pizza joint, and one of the MC’s dispensaries. “I. Said. Stop.” She gives me a poke in my side, and I wobble the whole fucking bike.

“Fine,” I growl and pull onto the side of the road. It’s a small two-lane road, mostly a backroad used by container trucks. “Happy?”

Cassidy jumps off the bike, snatching off the helmet with a growl. “Happy? Hell no, I’m not happy! I asked you to take me to a motel. Look around, Diesel. Not one goddamn motel in sight.”

I roll my eyes at her dramatics.So much for a laidback tomboy. “Damn, Miss Priss. Just wanted to have some fun,” I shoot back, feeling defensive in the face of her anger.

“Miss Priss?” she shouts the words as if I called her a cunt or something equally worse. “I’m hardly being prissy.”

“Agree to disagree, Cassidy.”

She lifts her hands, pressing them against my chest and shoving me hard enough that I take a shocked step backward. “You saidyou’d take me to a motel close to Morgan International,” she begins, pushing me again.

“I was taking the scenic route, giving you a tour of Angel Harbor.”

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