Texas Hold 'Em (Smokin' ACES) - By Kay David Page 0,42

a special pair to give him. He’d certainly never noticed Jessie wearing anything that hugged her curves like these did Rose’s. As he watched, she tugged at the seams, glancing over her shoulder at her reflection shimmering in the SUV’s mirrored windows. His gaze followed hers, starting at the top where two silver belts and buckles held the chaps at her waist, to the corset-like threaded laces tied right under the cusp of her butt, to the legs where more buckles tightened the leather to fit snugly against her legs. The black jacket he’d also brought was Jessie’s old one with the sleeves intact. It had some miles on it just like it should, but it fit Rose just a little bit tighter as well. He pushed abruptly off the bench to grab the closest helmet. If they didn’t get going, he might not be able to even get on the bike. He hadn’t done such a great job controlling himself up to this point.

“This is yours,” he said, thrusting the helmet into her hands. He’d had to buy one to fit her, so he’d taken it out back of the ranch house and roughed it up, taking off some of the polish. He pointed to the buttons on the side. “It’s got Bluetooth. Push this one if you want to talk to me. Push this one to use your phone after I’ve synced it.”

She handed over her cell. He punched the necessary buttons, then handed both the phone and the helmet back. “Keep the jacket zipped,” he instructed, pulling the leather collar closer to her neck. “It’s going to get cold with the wind.”

“Will you stop?” She batted his hands away. “You’re treating me like I’ve never ridden a motorcycle. Give me a break—”

“This bike is different. You can’t be asleep at the wheel, even if you’re just riding.”

“I don’t need all these directions.”

“I don’t give a shit if you think you need them or not, you’re getting them.” He finished explaining everything he thought she should hear, then he turned toward the bike. Throwing his leg over the saddle, he strapped on his own helmet and brought the motorcycle off the stand with a jerk. The Harley rumbled to a start as Rose slipped on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled out on the highway and headed south.

In the kind of dark that only exists in west Texas, everything familiar dissolved as they rode, the cycle’s headlight a single beam slicing the road before them. Santos was grateful for the straightaway. Rose needed time with the Harley before they hit the twisted road they would take once they crossed over the border, no matter what she thought.

They didn’t talk, and he was grateful for that, too. All he wanted was to take care of business. How good it felt to have Rose pressed against him, her arms wrapped around his waist, the wind rushing over his body, the speed of the bike… None of that mattered, he told himself.

None of that mattered.

Right.

…

They had only been traveling a couple of hours, but for Rose, they were the longest two hours she’d experienced in a quite a while. She tried to concentrate on the music Santos was playing over the headset, but that had only seemed to aggravate the situation. The dark and moody songs were nothing like what they’d listened to when they’d lived together, and the way he’d stared at her in the barn matched their throbbing beat. He was driving differently, too, taking the curves so low another driver would have laid down the bike, pushing the engine harder and harder, faster and faster. More than once, she thought about ordering him to pull over and let her off. Something told her he wouldn’t have stopped no matter what she said. Something else told her she didn’t need to worry; his skills matched the bike.

Regardless, by the time they pulled into the dusty village one town over from their destination, she was ready for a break. An open-all-night tienda winked in the darkness, and Santos glided to a stop before it. She was off the Harley before he could silence the engine, unsure of what bothered her more—his driving or the closeness to his body.

Still straddling the motorcycle, he slowly removed his helmet and looked at her as if he knew how she was feeling and enjoyed her displeasure. His expression wasn’t one she’d seen before. Slightly mocking, slightly angry,