I let up as soon as I hit the town limits where the traffic picked up a bit more. I was maybe ten minutes from the garage when I spotted a lone figure walking along the side of the road. The woman’s brown hair was pulled into a ponytail that sat high on the back of her head, the long strands hanging down to her shoulders and swaying in the hot breeze.
She was dressed in a bright-colored tank that fit her torso like a second skin, dipping in at her trim waist. The cropped yoga pants showcased her long legs and, I noticed the closer I got, a really nice, round ass.
For some strange reason, she was carrying a small duffle bag hooked across her body, the bag bulging at her waist and bumping against her hip.
The closer I got, the stronger the feeling of recognition grew, but that didn’t make sense, because I was sure I’d never seen this woman before. With a body like that, I definitely would have noticed her before now.
The roar of my bike’s engine drew her attention when I was only a few yards away, and when she turned to look over her shoulder, I damn near swallowed my tongue. My grip on the handlebars fumbled, and I had to jerk them straight to keep from going ass over elbow.
I pulled past her and nosed up to the curb before killing the engine and pulling my helmet off. “Willow?” I asked, my eyes doing a slow, bewildered trek down her lithe frame. Never in a million years would I have guessed what this woman was hiding beneath all those plain baggy clothes she seemed to favor. I looked back, noticing the flush on her heart-shaped face and a dewiness to her skin that I could only assume was due to the heat, but for some reason, it looked really good on her makeup-free face.
Her baby blue eyes went wide as she gave me the same attention I’d just given her, looking from my booted foot resting on the concrete, all the way up to my face. “Stone,” she said with a slight pant. “Hey. Hello. Um, h-how are you?”
Christ, why did I think the fact she got so damn awkward around me was cute? This was not the type of woman I should find cute. Add to the fact that I now knew she was hiding a rocking body behind all those frumpy-as-fuck clothes, and it was a big problem. But just like every time I encountered her, that unsettling protective urge I desperately tried to ignore came rushing to the surface.
“What the hell are you doin’ out here, mouse?”
Her tongue came out to swipe across her bee-stung lips as her gaze darted around behind her, like she expected me to be talking to someone else. When she faced me again, the skin between her brows was adorably crinkled in a confused frown. “Uh, walking?”
I looked down at the duffle bag she was toting and arched a brow. “With luggage?”
She glanced down at the bag at her hip. “Oh. Those are my work clothes. I learned a few days ago that it was best to carry them with me and change at the office instead of wearing them on my walk to work.” Her nose scrunched up. “It was not a fun lesson. Trust me.”
“Jesus, Willow. It’s a million fuckin’ degrees outside. What the hell are you doing walking to work when you live at least five miles away?”
“Well, uh . . .” She lifted he arms out to her sides and shrugged. “I don’t have a car. It’s either this or burn my PTO until my car is fixed, and I can’t really afford to do that.”
Not your problem, Stone, I silently berated myself. Don’t get involved.
But damn if I could help myself.
“Why the hell didn’t you get a rental?”
She pulled her bottom lip between her straight white teeth and bit down, anxiety crawling across her features. She hesitated for a few seconds, and I could see that what she was about to say was weighing heavily on her. “My insurance wouldn’t cover it, and I couldn’t afford the cost out of pocket.”
Son of a bitch. “Hop on. I’ll take you the rest of the way.”
Her sky-colored eyes bugged out comically wide, and it took everything I had to keep from grinning outright. I’d never met someone so socially awkward in my life, but somehow, Willow Thorne made it adorable as hell.
“Hop on what? Your motorcycle?” she asked in a tone that made it sound like I’d just asked her to go on a killing spree.
There was no controlling the grin this time. One corner of my mouth hooked up slightly as I answered, “Yeah, mouse. On my motorcycle. Just step on that peg there”—I pointed down to the foothold—“and swing your other leg over.”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “You know, I’m really okay with walking. It’s only another”—she looked down at the Apple watch on her wrist where she was obviously keeping track of the distance, and let out a pained groan—“two and a half miles,” she finished on a whine. “Oh, God. Why does it have to be so damn hot?”
“Welcome to summer, babe.” I grabbed the helmet I’d been wearing earlier and extended it to her. “Now put this on and climb on.”
Willow took the helmet and looked down at it like she was waiting for it to sprout wings and fly away before turning her attention back to me. “If I’m wearing this, what’ll you wear?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Her trepidation grew as she clutched the helmet in a white-knuckled grip. “I don’t know. Aren’t those things really dangerous?”
“Only if the person driving it is a careless jackass. I know what I’m doing, Willow. You’ll be safe with me, I swear.”
She looked back out at the distance, as if mentally calculating how many more steps she had to go to get to work. With a deep inhale that strained her tight top and made her round, perky tits pop out, she nodded like she’d been having a silent conversation with herself and pulled her ponytail out so she could put the helmet on. I helped her adjust the chin strap so it stayed snug to her head and started the bike back up while I waited the ten seconds it took her to find the nerve to climb on behind me.
She sat with a good-sized gap between our bodies and rested her hands on my shoulders. “Okay!” she called over the rumble of the engine. “I’m ready!”
Reaching back, I hooked my hands under her knees and yanked her closer so her chest was flush with my back and my hips were cradled tight by her thighs.
For fuck’s sake, Stone. Do NOT get hard. This chick isn’t even your type, I scolded when I felt my cock stir behind my fly.
I barely heard her cute little “Oh” of surprise when I took her hands off my shoulders and wrapped them around my waist.
“Hold tight, just like this,” I instructed. Her fingers gripped the material of my T-shirt like she was holding on for dear life. “You ready?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.
Those soft blues were wide as dinner plates and the flush on her high cheeks had bleached with fear. But instead of letting that get the better of her, she nodded with determination, setting the helmet that was about two sizes too big bobbling all over the place. I had to respect the hell out of her for doing something that scared her instead of chickening out.
As I promised her, I was careful, going slightly below the speed limit so she wouldn’t freak out. By the time we hit downtown, her hold on my shirt had loosened, and I felt her sit up a little straighter. She’d occasionally let out a little squeal or a peel of laughter, letting me know she was finally beginning to enjoy the ride. I kept my focus on the road, but there was no stopping the smile that pulled at my lips and stretched my cheeks.