Blacklisted (Loveless, Texas #3) - Jay Crownover Page 0,72

of my bike. I’d also never put in the effort to take one on a date, regardless of how low-key the encounter might have been. I might’ve been a handful of firsts for her, but she was also a shitload of firsts for me.

When Presley didn’t jump to follow my order, or smile at my slightly suggestive words, I plucked the helmet out of her hands and plopped it on top of her glossy hair myself. I attached the strap under her chin and bopped her on the end of the nose with my finger.

“Gotta get used to it sooner or later.” I bent down and kissed her nose on the same place I’d tapped her. If we were going to be together, regardless of how real or not it was, she needed to get comfortable being on my bike. The big machine was pretty much an extension of who I was, and one of my most prized possessions. It was the only thing I took away from my childhood, and the only thing waiting for me when I got home from each deployment.

I watched her visibly gather her courage and set her jaw in a determined line. She nodded briefly before placing a pair of mirrored sunglasses over her worried green eyes.

I climbed on the bike first and instructed her how to get on behind me. She gingerly placed her hands on my shoulders and tossed a long leg over the leather seat. I was surprised at the way the simple motion made my gut clench. I wasn’t expecting to like the way her slight weight felt pressed up against my back as much as I did. I was a solo rider. Always had been. But there was something nice and undeniably sexy about having a lush, warm female body locked against mine.

I heard her gasp when I turned the engine over, and I grunted when she squeezed me tightly enough to push the air out of my lungs as the bike moved forward. I reminded her to move with me and to hold on tight.

It seemed I was always telling her not to let me go in one way or another.

When her life wasn’t in danger and the woman who was responsible for all her hurt and heartache was no longer a factor, we were going to have to sit down and have a serious discussion about those words and what they really meant.

The ride to the diner only took five minutes. Regardless, Presley’s legs were shaking when I helped her off the bike. She leaned against me until she got her equilibrium back, which made me chuckle. I ran a reassuring hand up and down her spine as she popped the helmet off and shook her strawberry-tinted hair back into shape.

“So?”

She wrinkled her nose. “It wasn’t too bad. I guess I can see the appeal.” She pointed at the helmet I rested on the seat. “You should wear one of those. I’ve seen what happens to riders who don’t. It isn’t pretty.”

I threw an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the front door of the diner. “I wear one when we ride anywhere out of town and if we ride into a state that has a mandatory helmet law.” No way was I giving the cops an easy reason to pull me over and give me a ticket. “My dad had me on a bike almost before I could walk. I’m more comfortable on two wheels than on four.” As much as I resented my old man and most of my stolen childhood, there were a few things I was thankful he’d given me. My love of motorcycles was at the top of the list.

Presley pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as we entered the diner. It was one of only a handful of full-service restaurants within a fifty-mile radius, and it was always pretty full of regulars, even when it wasn’t prime hours. Which made it a perfect place to flaunt my budding romance and get the gossips going. The sooner Ashby Grant made her move, the better. I wanted a chance to see if what Presley and I had could work without one of our lives hanging in the balance. I’d never had what most would consider a normal relationship before, so I was going to have to learn the basics right alongside her.

My favorite waitress, Darlie, broke into a big grin when she saw me walk in. That grin