Frayed (Connections, #4)(40)

I stare into her mesmerizing eyes. “Have you ever seen the view from Carl’s Curve at night?”

“Up on Mulholland Drive?”

“That’s the place.”

“No, I haven’t.”

I extend my hand. “Well, come on. We should be able to make it before sunset.”

Her fingers entangle with mine and they fit perfectly in my hand. When I open the gate I cover her eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“You’ll see.” I lead her to my bike and grab the helmet off the seat before I remove my other hand.

“We’re not riding on your bike up there. I told you . . .”

I pull my hand from my behind my back and hand her the green helmet I stopped and picked up on my way over. She jumps up and down and the excitement she exudes over the smallest things—the way she clasps her hands together and bounces when something makes her happy—it gets me every time. I wish I knew how to get that reaction all the time.

Stepping closer, I push away the hair from her eyes and slip the helmet on her head. Once I do I dip my head down and kiss her, but just her cheek. I pull away before the urge to slide my lips and cover hers becomes impossible ignore. Then I strap my own black helmet on and hop on my bike. She circles to the left and does the same. When she gets on she wraps her arms around me so naturally my heart rate speeds at the contact.

With a quick turn of the ignition switch, I shift into neutral and kick-start her to life. S’belle breathes loudly in my ear and I can sense the rush she must be feeling. The short ride up the curvy road urges her closer. It makes me feel that she’s finally living in the moment, not overthinking everything. Each downshift is met with just the right amount of throttle as I carve each turn perfectly and her body sways into mine. I can smell her lemony scent, hear the puff of her breath, feel the warmth of her body against mine. My muscles tense with each movement she makes.

She holds me tight as we ride like the wind up to what has become one of my favorite places. When I feel her resting her chin on my shoulder, I suck in a breath. But when her hands slide down to my thighs for a moment before she realizes it and pulls them back up, I grin like a f*cking idiot because I know the walls are finally coming down.





CHAPTER 12


Still Into You

Bell

The sun is shining bright and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. I take my time walking down Hollywood Boulevard looking around at the many businesses and shops. Funny thing is I’m not really looking at them, though, because all I can see is Ben. I can’t get him out of my head. We talk all the time, we text all the time. Up until this week, we’ve spent all of our free time together. What was supposed to be a friends-only relationship to ward him off seems to have spurred him on.

Today it hit me that it seems like forever since I last saw him, which was Sunday night. He picked me up and took me to gaze at the view of LA from Mulholland Drive. It was stunning and riding on his bike was absolutely dreamy. He’s told me many times he’s not a romantic, but he doesn’t see what I see.

I pull on the showroom door and step in, looking around. It’s all put together in a very trendy modern metallic palette. My gaze darts to a blur of waving arms, and Josie’s wide eyes direct me to the break room. I look at the time—ten thirty. I lift the coffees and nod to my desk. She shakes her head. That can only mean trouble. I follow behind her, noticing Tate’s door is shut.

“What is it?” Quickly, I close the door behind me and set my stuff on the table.

“He’s on the warpath.”

“Why?” I ask mildly, leaning back against the glass door.

“Romeo Fairchild is in his office. He came in for his meeting with you thirty minutes ago. But, um . . . well, you weren’t here. I tried to call you.”

I set the coffees down and pull my phone from my purse. Shoot, she did call. I must have been on the phone with Ben and never noticed. I set my phone on the table. “The meeting is tomorrow, not today,” I insist.

“Well, tell that to Mr. Eleven.”

“What?”

“He’s an eleven on a scale of one to ten. You should go out with him.”

I gape at her. “Josie, are you out of your mind? You call me in here like I’m about to get fired and then tell me I should date our engaged client. The one whose wedding we’re planning.”

“Oh, Bell, I see how he looks at you. He practically f*cks you with his eyes every time he’s in here.”

“Josie, honestly. And besides, I think he screws anything that moves.”

Her hand flies to her mouth. “Bell Wilde, I’ve never heard you talk like that. I like this new wild side.”

I laugh at her. “You should have known me before I found direction.”

“Is that like finding God?”

I ponder her question. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

She blows a piece of blue hair out of her eyes. “Oh, and I almost forgot, that really hot brother of yours, the one who’s, you know . . . married”—she rolls her eyes—“stopped by already too. He said to let you know he had a few things to take care of and would be back to take you to lunch.”

Suddenly Josie’s eyes grow even wider than when I first walked in and then there’s a slight tap on the glass behind me.