that?”
His smile spread to a grin, maybe a hint of cocky there for the first time. Only it was kind of adorable on him. “Exactly.”
“I meant with only two cards, but you meant…oh, you bluffed, didn’t you?”
“Biggest one of my life.”
“And…it paid off. With a bracelet?”
“Super Bowls have big gaudy rings, boxing and bull riding have big gaudy belts. We have big gaudy bracelets.”
“Do you ever wear it? Wait, you said the first one. How many do you have?” She lifted her hand before he could reply. “Never mind. None of my business. No probing questions.”
“You can probe all you like. I’ll answer anything you want to know. But I’d rather you just get to know me. I’m more than what I do. Or used to do.”
“You don’t play at all anymore?” She smiled and shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t seem to help myself. But isn’t that how people get to know each other, asking questions?”
He took the helmet from her hands and stepped closer until she had to look up to keep hold of his gaze. “I can think of at least a dozen questions I’m dying to ask you, just off the top of my head, but none of them have to do with your job as an inn owner.”
“Well, that might be because my job isn’t as interesting as yours.”
“Why people do what they do is always an interesting story. Some happier than others, but a story all the same, and you’re right, it provides insight. But there’s all kinds of insight. And why people do what they do for a living is just the tip of it.”
“But people find out what you do and pass or make judgments without getting to know anything else. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Let’s just say it distracts them. And then we never seem to get back to the whole getting to know the rest of you part. There’s more there than just a poker player.”
“I would never have thought otherwise. Doesn’t anyone take the time to figure that out, to find out the rest?”
“Bright shiny objects tend to blind a lot of folks.”
She smiled. “They can’t get past the bling, huh? Well,” she gestured to herself, “as you have probably figured out, I’m not much of a bling type. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve never gambled or been to Vegas.” She studied his face for a moment longer, and he let her. “I also know there is a lot to you. And I’m curious about all of it. But trying to tiptoe around parts makes it hard to see the whole. Like a jigsaw puzzle with a bunch of pieces missing so you can’t see the entire picture.”
“Kirby-”
“Just let me ask you this. If I promise to ask about other things, take the time to probe your brain about how you feel about things like environmental awareness, or do you prefer crunchy or smooth peanut butter, who you voted for in the last presidential election, are you more excited about the Super Bowl or March Madness, and if you’ve ever been to Paris, or Sydney…which are both high on my personal list, would it be okay if I also asked questions about what it’s like to win big gaudy bracelets by playing cards?” She made the sign of an X over her chest, then held up her hand, little finger crooked. “Pinky swear?”
He stared at her a moment longer, his smile growing, until he finally shook his head and laughed. “You think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, and maybe I am. I haven’t been away from the mountain long enough to put the molehill in perspective.”
“Pinky swear,” she repeated.
He ducked his chin, still chuckling. But he surprised her by shifting the helmet under one arm and extending his own little finger. “Okay. Deal. But it goes both ways.”
“Deal,” she said, hooking fingers with him.
He tugged her closer with their linked fingers and then unhooked them and tipped her chin up. “You’re an original, Kirby Farrell.”
“I’m just me.” She smiled, even as her body shot right past tingling awareness to full throttle take-me mode. “Maybe you should get out more.”
“That part I figured out. That’s how I got here.”
“Some folks just get a hobby, you know. Broaden their social circle.”
“I think, in my case, I needed to shrink it. Drastically.”
She thought about the world he’d lived in and really couldn’t wrap her mind about what it would be like, to live, work, and play in that environment all the time. “You never really got away from it? Didn’t you have somewhere you could retreat to, pull back, hang out?”
“I thought I did. It wasn’t enough.”
“I guess it’s hard to escape the bubble there.”
“Something like that.” He leaned down and kissed her.
It was short, and more tender than hungry, but it was also more poignant than sweet.
“Thank you,” he said when he lifted his head.
She had to blink her eyes open, clear the fog a little. He really was kind of entrancing. And maybe she needed to get out more often, too. “For?” she asked.
“This. You. Hanging out, pulling back, escaping the bubble, and retreating. It’s better now. With you.”
She felt her skin flush, both with pleasure and a little embarrassment. “I’m not, I mean, I haven’t-thank you,” she said, wisely breaking off and opting to shut up and accept the compliment. She could obsess and stress over all the possible implications and potential meanings behind it later.
He slid the helmet onto her head. “Come on. Dinner awaits.” He put his own helmet on, and she saw that there was no adornment on his. He slung his leg over and settled his weight. “Put your foot here for leverage,” he said, motioning, “then kick your leg over-right.”
She settled in behind him, but wasn’t sure what to do next.
He settled that question by reaching back for her arms and nudging them forward. “Hold on. Lean when I lean, move with me when I move. Don’t work against me.”
Oh, she thought as her thighs snugged around his and put her hands on his waist, I want to work against you, all right. Visions of everything they’d done in the course of the past day and a half clicked through her mind like a rapid-fire slide-show display. She squirmed a little in her seat.
He pulled her hands from his waist to his stomach, which snugged her front up against his back.
“Your back, the scratches,” she said, raising her voice so he could hear her with their helmets on.
“Feels better with you against it,” he responded, tugging again until she was literally wrapped around him.
So much for taking a step back and reassessing her place in this situation.
“Hold on tight,” he shouted.
And she instinctively tightened her entire body around him-legs, arms, torso pressing tight-so that when he lifted his weight and came down on the throttle, and the bike roared to life, it was only by some miracle she didn’t come right then and there.
Holy crap.
She could only hope that when he started moving the damn bike she didn’t fall apart entirely. Would he even know she was back here, climaxing all over the place?
They coasted down the long drive, and she sighed in relief. Then he pumped them out onto the main road, and she squeezed her legs, tightened her hold…and prayed she was able to concentrate well enough to hold on and not become Pennydash roadkill. Of course, she’d be the only roadkill who’d died with a smile on her face, but still.
Once they were up to speed-a very fast speed, if you asked her-the vibrating smoothed out a little, even if the effects continued to linger. She eventually managed to let go with one hand long enough to give him hand signals on which way to go, but silently freaked out every time a car or truck passed by. They arrived at Harrison’s Food Mart about ten minutes later, but that was plenty of time for her entire life to flash before her very eyes. Several times. In the end, she’d been thankful for the physical distraction he’d provided. It was the only thing that had kept her from losing her cool entirely.
