happiness that swelled up in my chest caught me completely off guard. “It might get worse,” I said, feeling the urge to protect this man.
“I’ve been through worse,” he said softly.
We shared a smile for a sweet second.
“Can I ask you a nosy question?”
“How nosy?”
“I’m guessing the Miami Devils… your parents… weren’t happy that you decided to defect from them?” I’d seen the word defect last night while doing research on the culture of outlaw motorcycle clubs. Like formally fleeing your own country, running across borders toward freedom. I’d found the word to be startling in its intensity.
“It’s rarely done. And never done if you’re blood. I was on high alert for a long time, making sure they didn’t come after me.” I remembered how he’d reacted that day at the beach, when Devils club members had been strolling past us. The way that one man had waved at Beck. Except it hadn’t been a wave but a crueler, more threatening act than that. He’d looked prepared for a fight in broad daylight.
“I think it’s interesting, courageous, actually,” I said, “that even with your family out there, even with people knowing about them, even knowing you’d have to be the public face of this nonprofit, that you still started it. That you and Elián still gave it a go. Everything I’ve experienced recently, the way people have turned on me, it’s absolutely the worst thing that’s ever happened. I’m not sure, if all of this fraud nonsense had happened first, I would have gone through and done something so public. But you did.”
“I’m not that public though,” Beck conceded, nimbly dodging my compliment as usual. “Elián is frustrated with me.”
“I think Elián sees what I see,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“A dedicated leader.”
His expression looked… grateful.
“Hey, Beck?”
We turned—it was Elián with a concerned look on his face.
“What is it?” Beck said.
“Animal control just called. A stray pit bull on the beach at Lummus Park. If we can’t get it, it has to go to the kill shelter over on High Street. You want in?”
“What’s open?”
Elián turned behind him. “I guess Jack’s kennel? You and Jem cleaned it the other day, right?”
“We did,” I said, happy to have provided even the tiniest amount of help.
“Let’s get her,” Beck said.
“I’m coming too,” I declared, standing and brushing dirt from my pants.
“It’s pretty physically demanding,” Beck said.
“And this body can do anything,” I tossed back.
And for a delirious second, his eyes traveled the length of the body in question—mine—in such a filthy way my core flooded with heat. I liked it. A lot.
“Let’s go then,” he said. “Want to take my bike? Jem can follow in the truck if we catch her.”
“When we catch her,” I said, needing to distract myself from sexual thoughts of Beck and his bike. “And you’re sure I’ll, uh, fit on the back?”
He stood up, barely six inches from me. I had to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. “We’ll make it work.”
I was the girl who always fantasized about sex on a motorcycle—but had never actually been on one.
Riding with Beck was going to be absolutely, one-hundred-percent fine though.
Right?
23
Luna
It was not fine.
It was hot as hell.
I’m about to ride a motorcycle NBD I texted to Cameron, Daisy and Emily. A flurry of those three dots—I imagined they were trying to text the fastest snark.
Who are you riding? Daisy texted. A beat, then: With. I meant who are you riding with, obviously.
Beck, I said. The nonprofit hunk’s one-word answers were rubbing off on me.
And I needed to stop thinking about words like riding and rubbing off. Immediately.
“I’ve got an extra helmet for you,” Beck said as we stood by his Harley Davidson that gleamed in the sunlight. His arm behind his head caused his unnaturally large biceps to bulge, making me think of granite boulders.
“Okay, cool,” I said. “Should I take my hair down so it can fit?”
“Sure,” he rasped.
I tugged apart my high bun and my hair went tumbling to my shoulders. It might have been my imagination but his entire body went taut, the curve of his lips like a tease. “How do I look?”
“Like Cousin It,” he said.
“Just the look I was going for,” I said. That curved lip became a truly crooked grin and only the buzzing of my phone stopped me from leaning into the gentle giant standing in front of me.
Motorcycle? HOT. I knew you were going to ride Beck, Cameron had texted back.
She and I shared an affinity for motorcycles.
His BIKE. Riding