ready to go back to his house for that promised home-cooked meal.
The only thing was, I wasn’t ready. I’d spent the entire time in the ambulance telling myself that the things I would see inside the vehicle were ten times scarier than anything that could happen in Ran’s apartment. Severed bones, massive amounts of blood, and contagious air-borne illness are much more frightening than being alone with Ran. Those things should induce the nausea that’s been spinning my stomach for the past two hours, not the thought of spending a quiet evening with just him. Alone. Alone with Ran, in his house. The thought of it makes me queasy beyond belief.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“So I live just three miles from here.” Ran says as we get out of the ambulance. He gestures toward his motorcycle that is parked a few feet away. “Do you think you can handle a ride on it again?”
My stomach somersaults. “Seriously?” I throw my hands in the air. “And you wonder why you make me uncomfortable? I thought I asked you not to make me get on that death-mobile again!”
I realize my volume must be louder than I intend, because the slack-jawed stares from Ran’s colleagues kind of imply that I might actually be screaming. Just as I begin to feel the hot discomfort of embarrassment climbing up my cheeks, Trav jogs over toward us and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
“I’ll drive you to Ran’s, Maggie. It’s on my way.”
Ran swiftly nods toward Trav. “Thanks man. No detours. She’s mine tonight.”
“No worries. Tempting, though.”
There’s a beat-up Chevy truck parked just to the left of Ran’s Ducati that I assume belongs to Trav. Mostly because the license plate on it says TRVSTRK. Straightforward—something Ran is definitely not.
“Hop in,” Trav instructs, holding the passenger door that creaks on its hinges like it’s the first time it’s ever been opened. “The seatbelt sticks a bit. You have to jiggle it to get it loose.”
“Got it.” I climb up into the cab and do as he says, but it takes more than just jiggling; it takes me yanking with the strength of all of my body weight behind it before the seatbelt dislodges and allows me to slink it across my body. “Doesn’t get used much?” I infer.
“Nah. I don’t quite get the ladies the way Ran does. No pretty passengers for me.”
Trav slips into his seat and engages the key and the engine turns over loudly. For a moment I worry that something’s wrong under the hood when I feel the low vibration increasing under my feet, but then I look out my window and see Ran kick starting his bike and hear the purr of his vehicle combined with ours. Something about the way he turns that motorcycle on turns me on, and I force my gaze out the front windshield just as I see Ran’s helmet about to angle my way. Out of my periphery, I see him flick a wave toward us and then speed out of the lot.
“So Ran’s cooking for you tonight?” Trav puts the truck in reverse and follows Ran’s bike down the street.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
I try everything I can not to focus on the pull of Ran’s black leather jacket over his firm shoulders, and the way he slightly perches on the seat of his bike, yet keeps his weight balanced effortlessly as he cruises down the block. I try not to notice those things, but each time his motorcycle hugs the curve of the road when we turn onto a different street, I find my head tilting slightly to follow his perfectly fluid movements. It’s impossible not to notice how well he handles that vehicle and to wonder what other things he has such skilled control over, too.
Trav looks over at me. “You like him?”
Yep. Trav is straightforward all right.
“I don’t know.”
“Because he likes you.” The blinker ticks out a steady, metronomic beat. “And he feels awful about your accident.”
“Why? He shouldn’t. It’s not like it was his fault.” The scar under my pant leg inches and I rub my finger over the denim covering my thigh.
“Well, maybe you telling him that would be more effective than me.”
I’m about to ask what on earth he means when Ran’s bike slips into an open garage and Trav guides his truck into the driveway behind it.
“Have fun tonight, Maggie. And don’t keep him up too late. He’s got another night shift tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, still confused by his previous statement, but overtaken