He parked and got off the bike first, then helped her off, cautioning her to be careful not to brush her leg against the exhaust pipe. Once safely on two slightly shaky feet, they took their helmets off. He was grinning. She…forced a smile.
“So, what did you think of your first ride?”
She was tempted to tell him that the only ride she wanted him to give her was the kind they’d had earlier, back at the inn, but he seemed so excited to share his apparent love of motorcycles with her that she didn’t want to disappont him. “It was…an adrenaline rush,” she said, quite truthfully. She just didn’t add the part about needing to go throw up now.
“You probably know the back mountain roads pretty well. Maybe we can plan a little day trip. Winding mountain roads, have a little fun on the tight turns.”
She tried not to turn green, but it was really beyond her control. “Um, sounds like a plan.” One she would find a way to politely decline when she wasn’t being put on the spot.
He took the helmet from her and strapped it to the backrest. Then caught her hand before she could start across the parking lot. He tugged her back beside him and bent his head. “You’re too nice, you know.”
She glanced up at him, eyebrows raised in question.
“Your face, just now?”
“That green, huh?”
He nodded. “You can say no thank you. You don’t have to do something because I like it.” He pulled her another half step closer still, until her hip bumped his and leaned even closer. “I’m sure there are plenty of other things we’d both like to do,” he said, then glanced at her and laughed. “Much better face.”
She laughed, too, but part of her cringed. “Good to know I’m that transparent.”
“Hey,” he said, bumping her with his hip, then taking her hand as they set off across the lot. “Don’t feel too badly. You’re playing with a professional.”
She couldn’t help it, she just shook her head and laughed again. He really was incorrigible. Incorrigible and sweet and ridiculously sexy.
It wasn’t until they were stepping up on the curb to head into the store that she grew aware of the looks. It took her a second to process, then she realized what she was doing. Holding hands. With Brett Hennessey. Not that probably anyone in Pennydash, Vermont, knew who Brett Hennessey was in terms of his poker fame, but what they did at least see was her, clearly attached to a much younger, hot motorcycle guy.
That part didn’t bother her, but before she could consider any other possible ramifications to their public display, Helen Harklebinder was calling her name.
“Kirby!”
She casually slipped her hand from Brett’s as he opened the door for them and the trailing Mrs. Harklebinder. Kirby stepped into the store and turned back as the older woman caught up. “Hello, Helen, how are you?”
Helen had already forgotten all about Kirby. She was too busy beaming up at Brett. “Well, aren’t you the nice young man. Too many of your generation don’t know their manners these days.”
Brett nodded. “My pleasure.” He stepped forward and unstuck a cart from the queue and rolled it to her, handle first.
Helen’s smile deepened and Kirby swore there was a bit of a pink flush to her feathery cheeks. “Why, you’re just a big Boy Scout, aren’t you.” She turned to Kirby. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?”
Kirby had been caught up in the byplay, watching the spell Brett so effortlessly wove and was thinking he probably did that, rather pied piper like, everywhere he went. So it took her a split second to switch gears. “Oh, he’s not my-I mean, he’s-”
Brett stepped forward and extended his hand. “Brett Hennessey.”
“Mrs. Harklebinder,” she said, eyes twinkling now. “But, please, you can call me Helen.”
“Helen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He rolled another cart out, which Kirby grabbed like the lifeline it was. “Have a nice evening,” he said to Helen, and then expertly guided Kirby and her cart toward the fresh vegetable department.
Kirby threw a little wave over her shoulder. “Nice to see you,” she said, then so softly only Brett could hear, added, “Thank you.”
“Actually, I should apologize.”
She glanced up, honestly confused. “For?”
“Not thinking. Small town. And your town. I know what you said about it not bothering you, but I don’t want to put you in a deliberately uncomfortable or awkward situation.”
“No, no, don’t-”
“Stop being nice,” he said, but was smiling as he said it.
Which made it easier for her to say, “Well, to be honest, I hadn’t even thought about it, beyond the general not caring about other folks’ opinions on my personal choices.”
“But you haven’t actually encountered them yet. Right?”
“True. So, yes, I guess I’d like a little processing time.” She took a steadying breath and added, “and more time to get to know you.”
She risked a glance up, and found him smiling but looking at her quite intently.
“What,” she asked, wishing she could read him as well as he apparently read her.
“Good,” was all he said. Then he nodded, and his expression was…happily content. “That’s good.” He covered her hand on the handle of the shopping cart and steered her toward the lettuce. “You get stuff to make a salad. I’m heading out to find us some pasta. Meet me in the bread aisle.”
“Ten-four,” she said.
“Horrible hand. I’d fold with that one,” he called back to her as he headed off.
She frowned. “It’s a radio sign-off,” she called after him. “Not a poker-never mind.” He’d already ducked down the soft drink and chip aisle. She turned and resolutely rolled her way through the fresh vegetable bins, choosing a fresh head of romaine, a few decent-looking tomatoes, some thoughtfully preshredded carrots, an onion, and a bag of croutons. She had no idea what kind of dressing he liked, so she picked out a ranch and a spicy Italian. Not so bad. A salad even she couldn’t screw up. Probably.
She pushed the cart along the aisles, heading toward the small bakery and bread area on the far side of the store. She heard Brett before she saw him. He was talking to somebody. She pushed the cart a bit faster, then slowed before she rounded the end of the last aisle and peeked around the corner first. Crap. Thad had Brett cornered between the dairy and the bread rolls. Thad, who knew exactly who Brett was. And had no idea he’d prefer no one else did.
Thad was pumping Brett’s hand, and to his credit, Brett was smiling easily enough, but it wasn’t the same kind of twinkling, truly sincere smile he’d favored her with. This was more…well, it was hard to say, exactly, because he looked quite sincere as he listened to Thad ramble on about something. She pushed the cart around the corner and headed their way, her mission plan to extricate him-them-as soon as possible. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“You in town for an exhibition of some sort?” she heard Thad ask.
She winced inwardly as she noticed a few other shoppers shamelessly listening in on the conversation. If she didn’t do something quickly, he’d have folks asking him to autograph their grocery lists or something. Everybody loved a celebrity, even if they had no idea who he was.
“No, nothing like that,” Brett was saying. “I don’t think Vermont even has a gaming commission,” he joked with an easy smile. “I’m just taking a break, doing a little sightseeing.”
“Hey, Thad,” Kirby said as she closed ranks.
“You get my message earlier?”
She forced herself not to so much as glance in Brett’s direction or she was certain a neon sign would pop up over her head, announcing exactly what it was the two of them had been doing right before he’d left said message. “Sure did, thanks.”
He nudged her with his elbow. “Coulda told me you had a celebrity booked at your place.”
“It wasn’t an advance booking. And Mr. Hennessey here was looking for a bit of relaxation and a chance to get away from Vegas for a bit. If you know what I mean.” And she hoped to hell Thad did. Unless he’d already blabbed it across town. Which, come to think of it, he probably had. She should have thought of that and headed off this little excursion at the pass.
