The Redemption(60)

He lowers my hand, but holds onto it. “As many as it takes.”

That’s when I know we aren’t over. But for the safety of my heart, the business, and until I figure out this game of life I’m playing, we need slow bordering on medium.

Walking into the living room, he says, “Guess you need to get going. I’ll help wrangle the boys.”

I stand there a moment longer watching him walk away and smile at him. His heart connected to mine once again. “Thanks.”





Later in the night, just as I climb into bed, my phone rings. My smile is probably heard over the phone and I’m too tired to hide it. “Hello.”

“Good evening, Rochelle,” Dex says, his own voice smooth and seductive with a light playful undertone.

If I wasn’t smiling already… “How are you?”

“Really good. And you?”

The casual chitchat makes me happy. “Oh, you know, busy but good.”

“You’re busy right now?”

“No,” I reply, “I just got into bed after a busy day.”

His voice gets deeper and I hear him settling down. “I like the thought of you doing that.”

“The having a busy day part or climbing into bed?” I tease.

He chuckles. “Am I going to see you tomorrow?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Take a ride with me. Up the coast.”

My lips part and a silent gasp chokes my immediate response. “Dex…”

“As friends,” he adds.

I’m pathetic and give in way too easily, wanting to see him more than I’ve convinced myself otherwise. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow evening.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Rochelle.”

“Goodnight, Dex. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams.”

The pause makes us both laugh. Knowing we have plans makes it easier to hang up though. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.

“Tomorrow.”





It feels a lot like I’m getting dressed for a date. Beth has preached to me several times this afternoon that, in fact, two friends can hang out together without it getting too deep… or sexual. I’m not fully convinced, but I’m willing to try again. Because he’s easy on the eyes. Oh wait, damn it. Okay, I’m not convinced at all that two people who have great sexual chemistry can remain only friends.

I kiss the kids goodnight and say goodbye to Beth just as Dex calls me to meet him outside. After closing the front door behind me, my mouth drops open when I see him. “Oh good lord!” Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. This is gonna be impossible with him looking so damn sexy in his leather jacket and old jeans, tight T-shirt, and motorcycle. What? Rushing forward, I stumble over my words, “What? How? Where’d you get her?”

With two motorcycle helmets in his hands, Dex straddles the bike with a big ole smirk on his face. “Wanna go for a ride, sweetheart?”

“Hell yes, I do.” I go through the gate, making sure to set the alarm before shutting the door. I take a helmet and put it on. After securing my license and credit card in my pocket, I zip up my jacket. “I’m ready.”

I start to swing my leg over the back, but he stops me. “You’re driving.”

Lowering my leg back down, I look at him incredulously. “Really?” I ask, hopeful.

“Really. You were once a badass on a bike. Show me that girl again.”

“I like your version of trouble.”

“Good because I have more where that came from.”

“I’m counting on it.” I get on and he settles in the seat behind me, then wraps his arms around my middle just as I rev the bike. When we take off, I realize I’d forgotten how exhilarating riding a motorcycle can be. Also, how scary. I’m rusty as I try to balance better.

Gaining speed, a feeling of freedom takes over. It’s a similar high I imagine runner’s get when they hit their stride—a feeling of invincibility, power, and liberation from your worries. On a bike, I only have to think about my surroundings, to be conscious of others, and let my worries drift into the wind behind me.

About an hour later, Dex has me stop at a public beach past Malibu, but just shy of Santa Barbara. “The sun is setting. Let’s take a walk on the beach.” We hang our helmets and kick off our shoes, before I bend over and roll up the bottom of my jeans. The sand is big, gritty, and warm from the hot day today. Walking toward the ocean, Dex stays quiet beside me, seeming to have his mind on things other than the sunset.

“Wanna talk about it?” I ask while pulling my hair back into an elastic band.

“The bike is a gift.”

Shocked by his doozie of a statement, I stop walking and turn to him. “For what?”

“I thought you should have it.”

Glancing back to it, I feel the debate beginning. “You can’t give me a motorcycle, Dex.”

“I just did.”

“Take it back,” I demand, putting my hands on my hips.

“No. Why should I?”

“Because it’s too much. We’re friends. Friends don’t give each other gifts like that.”