by Jessica Joy
“Excuse me?” she all but screeches, shoving off my hands and stepping back from me.
Oh Shit. Wrong move.
“I stopped and talked to Betha before heading over here. She said it wasn’t a problem to stay longer,” I say calmly, hoping to diffuse the situation.
“Sawyer. You can’t just talk to my babysitter without talking to me first!” she says through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep a hold on her temper and keep the volume down for the folks around us.
“Tess wait, I…”
“No Sawyer! I am not just one of those club floozies who bend to your every whim. I won’t just jump at your beck and call. I have plans and opinions of my own. They are MY business and I will not let you steamroll your way through my life just because you’re used to getting your way!” she is furious, every word escalating the flush in her cheeks and volume. She is practically vibrating, her fists clenched at her sides clearly ready to punch me out if I move too quick or wrong. This woman is a foot shorter than I am and more trim than strong, but I have no doubt that this little kitten has some very sharp claws.
Damn, she is sexy when she’s pissed. Wait. No, I need to be careful here, neither the time nor place, I need to back down from this right.
“Okay, okay. Let me explain! Please?” I ask, holding my hands up in a placating gesture.
“Please,” She says, venom dripping from her voice. “I would love to hear how you thought, for even a second, that going behind my back and making plans for Evan without talking to me was a good idea. Enlighten me, oh Mr. Badass Biker,” She bites, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a challenging brow at me.
Well, I’m fucked. Hercules couldn’t dig me out of the pile of shit I’ve dove into. Maybe play it cool?
“Yeah… okay. So... Looking back on it now, that wasn’t the best idea I have ever had,” I chuckle lamely.
“Ya think?”
“Down kitty. Put the claws away and let me explain Babydoll? I really meant well,” I explain. She rolls her eyes but stays silent, tapping her foot in impatience. I cast a glance around the diner and notice everyone is looking anywhere but at us.
“I know you’ve been working like crazy since moving in and have had almost no time to just chill. Have you been into the city yet?” I ask, trying to deflect her anger to something that might make her curious.
“Well, I mean…” she evades, not meeting my gaze.
“Exactly. So, let me take you out. We can go for a drive to see some sights. Yes, I stopped and talked to Betha before coming here, but I was just trying to take some weight off so you wouldn’t have to figure it out yourself. Look, I’m bad at this; you’re right that I’m not used to working together with someone for the little things in life, but I want to figure it out. I don’t expect you to follow my every whim, I don’t want that either. If I’ve overstepped too far tonight, and you’d rather head home to the little man, I understand. I was just trying to help and spend some fun and easy time with you.”
She looks at me for a moment, like she is trying to gauge my sincerity. I meet her gaze, hoping she finds what she is looking for reflected in mine. After a long pause, she closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose, and heaves a heavy sigh, dropping onto the stool next to me.
“I’m difficult Sawyer, my life isn’t easy. If you’re just looking for your next conquest, please just move on. I have no desire to be a notch in the belt of your life and I really will not subject myself to a yo-yo dating life. Evan doesn’t deserve that turmoil and I simply can’t handle it,” she all but whispers, her voice pained as she stares down at her clasped hands resting on the counter. I force myself to stay still, fighting the urge to pull her close, to smooth those worry lines creasing her brow and kiss the downturn of her lips away.
“I may not know where this is going or what will happen, but I do know this; I know that you deserve more than one night. And I know that I just want some time with you, and if you let me, to take some stress off your shoulders even if only for a few hours that I can pry you free,” I say. I can see her breath catch and hold as she finally looks back at me, a mix of surprise and terror on her face.
What the fuck happened to this girl that has her so damn scared?
“Give me a chance Tess. Let’s just take it a day at time and see what happens. I know I want that,” I pause, holding her stare.
“Okay,” is all she whispers. A bright smile breaks across my face and I can’t resist the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead.
“Okay,” I whisper back. She gives me a weak smile and I can feel the trepidation rolling off her in waves. Hopefully, she will settle in and release some of this nervous energy she is carrying around when we get out on the road and she is on the back of my bike.
Alice magically swoops in at the right moment and refills my mug. “Take care of my girl Sawyer, or I’ll make sure Clay comes and straightens you out,” she says with the most threatening look I’ve ever seen from her.
Thankfully, Tess starts chatting about her day and we settle into an easy conversation for a little while, both finishing our coffee before heading out. As we are about to stand up to leave, François leans out from the pickup window and calls Tessa, “details mon cheri, details. I demand to hear the full tale over coffee and crosswords,” he calls in his thick French-Canadian accent before disappearing back through the opening.
With a teasing look, I turn toward her and put a hand on her knee as I say, “coffee and crosswords?”
“Oh shush you, you know you have nothing to worry about from him.”
“Why Tessa… whatever your last name is… are you admitting I don’t have competition for your affections?” I tease, bouncing her knee between my hands, making her sway on her barstool.
“Johnson. Tessa Johnson, nice to meet you. And I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about, you cocky bastard. I have a deep and abiding affection for François. His sausage and creamy gravy are of the gods and sometimes a girl just needs her fix!”
A laugh catches in my throat and I try to cover it with a cough, only managing a nod in response.
Must… Not… Make… Dick joke!
“Really? I’m impressed, left the door wide open with that one and you didn’t step through! Good boy,” she says with saccharine sweetness as she taps my cheek with patronizing affection.
I could get used to teasing this woman. She doesn’t take shit and dishes as good as she gets.
“Okay there punchy. Wanna get outta here?” I ask.
“Where we headed?” she asks, standing up and looking around for a second before her brows draw together in annoyance. She lets out a huff and turns to me, “I’ll be right back, forgot my bag in the back and need to change.”
“Alright, I’ll meet you out front,” I say. She offers me an apologetic smile and hurries off into the back and I head out to my bike.
The afternoon is one of those perfect spring days only people who live in the North truly appreciate. The bitter winter cold is still hanging on, but you can feel, and almost smell, the warmth of spring just around the corner. If there is one thing I’ve learned in my year and a half since moving to Minnesota, it’s that the people who call this godforsaken frozen tundra home through the miserable winters truly appreciate a 45 degree, or hell, even a 35 degree day more than any sane person should. Unfortunately, now that I have lived through my second winter here, I think I’m starting to get it.
The sound of the entry doorbell draws my attention and I turn to see Tessa in painted on jeans, a black knit sweater peeking through her open coat as she stands on the curb gawking at my bike. Yes, gawking. Her jaw is hanging open, her eyes are wide, and it is hilarious. I can’t help but laugh. The sound must snap some sense back into her because she does a ridiculous little high knee jumping, stomping, skipping dance thing and has the biggest smile I have ever seen on her face.
“What, never seen a bike before Babydoll?”
“Of course I have, I
just haven’t ridden one since I was a kid!” she retorts.
“And here I thought that reaction was for me,” I mock.
“Well, it was for what’s between your legs that should count for something,” she sasses back. “The bike that is.”
“The things I could do with that smart mouth,” I mutter just loud enough for her to hear.
“What was that?” she asks, feigning ignorance but I can tell by the teasing glint in her eyes that she heard me just fine.
“Come on, take a ride with me,” I say, playing up the gravel tone to my voice and shooting her a heated look. I’m rewarded with a deep blush that creeps up her neck and over her cheeks. She tries to hide the fact that my words got to her by settling her dark sunglasses over her eyes and zipping up the purple ski jacket, a gift from Roxy if I had to guess. That thought makes me chuckle as I hold out my spare helmet toward her. This woman has won over every single person she has come in contact within this town, and I’m pretty sure none of us even know what hit us yet.
Tessa fusses with the buckle on the helmet, getting it adjusted before she strikes a pose with her fists on her hips, left hip cocked out, and pulling a cheesy grin. With her sunglasses, jacket, and helmet its quiet the getup.
Fuck she’s cute.
My laugh dies in my throat at that thought. When was the last time I thought someone over the age of six was “cute”? Pretty sure the answer to that is never. It’s true though, Tessa is damn sweet. Not sure what sort of voodoo nonsense she’s pulling, but she somehow manages to be adorable and sexy all at once. She’s my ideal. My ideal who is currently sticking her tongue out at me and smiling like she’s damn proud of herself for putting on a hat. If she doesn’t get her ass on my bike in the next ten seconds, we are gonna cause a scene right here on the sidewalk, and Alice would have my hide for making her customers lose their appetites.
“Adorable,” I deadpan. “Now get your ass on my bike woman.” she throws me another look before stepping close. Being the gentleman that I am, I hold out my arm for her to balance on, but she swats my hand away and throws her leg over the bike, settling in behind me like she has done it a million times. I feel her snuggle up against my back, her arms resting at my waist and her breasts pressing against my shoulders. I take one of her hands and pull it tighter around me, settling it against my stomach. She takes the hint and wraps her arms around me, and I try very hard to not think about how good it feels, or how I wish I could feel those hands against my bare skin.
Aaaand there goes another fuckin’ boner. What the actual fuck dude. Get your shit together and just ride.
With a little cough to cover my sudden uncomfortable state, I twist around and ask, “You know what you’re doing Babydoll?”
“Hold on, lean with you, and … don’t try to find out if you are ticklish while the bike is in motion?” she teases with a bright smile, wiggling her fingers against my abs for a moment. Honestly, there really isn’t a response to that other than to laugh, so I shake my head and laugh as I turn back to kickstart my bike and pull out onto the street.
Chapter 12
Tessa
Free. That’s the only way to describe the feeling of being on Sawyer’s bike. For the first time in as long as I can remember I feel free, like nothing can touch me, no one can catch me, and I never want it to end. Being here with Sawyer, my arms wrapped around him, I feel peace for the first time in years, even if he is a little bit of a jackass.
When we hit Scenic Highway 61 on the north side of the city we really fly. It’s exhilarating when he opens it up but after a while the wind gets to be a bit much and I snuggle into him to hide from the worst of it. Resting my cheek against his shoulder, I take in the amazing views along the North Shore. It reminds me of home. The tall pines along the coast, the rocky beaches, the clean fresh breeze coming off the water, it’s all so familiar. There’s a strange tightening in my chest at the thought, but I can’t let myself go there. I refuse to let anything darken this time with him. I tighten my grip on Sawyer slightly and let the sound of his bike wash over me, clearing my mind.
We ride for a little over an hour before taking a turn off onto a narrow twisting road up through the trees. The sun is dipping low on the horizon as we pull into a small parking lot at the top of a place called Palisade Head. There are a few cars in the lot, it’s still early enough in the season and most tourists don’t want to brave the biting winds. The overlook is edged with a rough stone wall, which I make my way to and look over the edge toward Lake Superior below. It’s sheer cliff face plummeting over 900 feet to the water’s edge.
Turning back around I take in the tall pine, birch, and oaks of the surrounding woods that seem to stretch forever along the coast. It’s so clear and crisp I think I can see the end of the world up here. Superior stretches to the horizon, whitecaps rolling from here to eternity.
My thoughts drift back toward home as I stare out over the water. Superior is the largest lake in North America, we all learn that in grade school, but nothing really prepares you for the actual size; it might as well be the ocean. The scene reminds me of the summers spent exploring the Puget Sound beaches with my family. Picnics up on the rocks overlooking the surf, bonfires on the beach looking up at the stars, sunsets dying on the distant water. Memories of that so-called idyllic childhood flood over me, and I want nothing more than to forget them. Those moments were pretty on the outside, but rotten within. The emotions of those memories, the months of running, the man with me here today, all well up and threaten to spill over if I let them.
“Sawyer, this view is amazing! I can’t… it’s stunning,” I say in awe as I look out at the lake. It comes out more choked than I hoped, and he turns toward me, posture stiffening with awareness. I do my best to keep my gaze out toward the horizon, attempting to bring my traitorous emotions under control.
“Stunning” he murmurs, a look of concern creasing his eyebrows. The warm rasp of his tone is like you hear in movies, when the guy is looking at the woman and she isn’t paying attention, when his eyes go all soft and adoring and his heart beats only for her. The adoration every woman wants to receive, whether they like to admit it or not.
And you need to be firmly in the “or not” category. No stomach flips, no tingles, no heart skips. Not allowed. Can’t do it. Not today.
Really the only safe course of action is to pretend I didn’t hear him and change the subject. As expected, or feared, his eyes are already on me when I turn to face him and the heat of his gaze cuts right through my mental haze. It takes all my willpower to not lean into him for comfort. He continues to look at me with that heated look for another moment before his whole body softens and he gives out a low chuckle.
“You heard me Babydoll,” he says, settling into a confident stance while shooting me one of his pantie melting smirks. “Stunning.”
Of course my traitorous, wanton vagina just has to stand up and wave its arms in the air like an inflatable tube man at a car dealership in response.
Freakin hussy.
There really is no arguing with this man when he throws that look around. I refuse to let him see the effect his words are having on me, so I throw him an eye roll and a rueful smile.
“So, Sawyer… no last name…” I say, twirling my hand motioning for more.
“McGrath” he chuckles.
“So, Sawyer McGrath. Tell me about yourself. I admit, I really know almost nothing about you besides your love of Disney Bromances. Tell me a story,” I say, settling back against the wall.
“A story huh? Okay, let’s see,” he looks out over the water for a moment before starting his story. “My dad was a car guy. Well, he was an ‘anything with a motor’ guy. There was always a car, bike, ATV, or anything in some state of disassembly or reassembly; I could never really tell which one though. He was always tinkering. I started to hang out in the garage with him before I could walk. As soon as I could learn the names of the tools, I was helping him work on his projects. He was so patient, alw
ays answering every one of my ten billion questions, always showing me how to do something no matter how many times he’d shown me before.”
“He bought me my first bike when I was ten. A little orange dirt bike. He had an old pan head he’d restored, and we used to go for rides around the neighborhood together. I knew from that first ride that I was meant to be on a bike. That feeling… even then I knew it’s unlike anything else,” he goes quiet again, seemingly lost in thought. I let him drift for a moment before bringing him back.
“Sounds like your dad was pretty amazing,” I say quietly.
“Yeah, he was,” he takes another pause, “he died when I was eleven. Cancer. My mom told me a few years later he had been fighting it for a while, but it finally got the best of him. He tried to keep it from us kids as long as he could; and I suppose I never wanted to see that he started to spend fewer hours in the garage that last year. He was a mountain of a man, but I’ll never forget how small he looked, lying in that bed, just before the end,” he ends quietly; almost like the story crept up on him. He’s fiddling with one of his rings as he looks down, lost in what I’m sure is a dark room with beeping equipment and a quiet body under heavy covers.
“Sawyer, I’m so sorry,” I say, reaching out to hold and still his hands. He looks down before offering me a small smile, slipping a heavy silver ring from his finger.
“This was his you know,” he says showing me the ring. “He had it made from the first engine he blew up as kid; drilled out the block himself and wore it as a reminder to know his limits. He’s the reason I became a mechanic. Ma always said she wanted me to be a lawyer or some shit,” he gives a rueful chuckle at that. “I was never meant for a three-piece suit. Dad taught me to work with my hands and that’s what I’ve always done. I’ve done my best to follow in his footsteps, but the boots always seem a little too big.”
Another heavy silence descends, but this time it is not an awkward one, just pensive. Both of us looking out over the water, not saying anything for fear of breaking the delicate balance we have found, enjoying the touch of our hands. Unwilling to let go of him, I twine our fingers together, giving him a little squeeze. He starts running small circles over the back of my hand with his thumb without looking up.