“You don’t like riding, do you?” he asks now, more polite than interested.
I shake my head. “No. I feel bad for the horse. Why should he have to carry me around?”
Dare chuckles, then leans forward, digging his heels into his horse. “You can’t weigh more than eight and a half stones. He doesn’t even notice you, I’m sure. But follow me.”
He trots ahead, then begins a slow canter. My horse does the same, and I hold on for dear life, my heart racing from the thrill of it. Dare leads me back to the stables.
“We’ll ride something a bit more fun.”
I stare at him in confusion as we dismount and hand the reins to the groom.
My eyes widen as I follow Dare to the garage, and we stop in front of a sleek black motorcycle. I should’ve known he’d have a bike here.
But the English countryside is wet and the roads are curvy, and I’m hesitant.
“Do you know how many people have passed through my dad’s funeral home because of motorcycle accidents?”
And I’d have to wrap my body around yours, holding you tight.
I can’t.
I can’t.
I turn around and start to walk away, but Dare grabs my elbow.
“Come on, Calla. You’ve got to live a little bit.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” I tell him as I turn back around. “I won’t live long on the back of that thing.”
He grins his freaking dare me grin, though, and I know that I’m a goner. It sets a fire in my belly because it’s real. It’s like I can see a tiny bit of his old self shining through, and I can’t resist that. He sees it on my face and grins even wider.
“You need a helmet. There’s an extra in that cabinet.”
He points to the wall, and I retrieve the helmet, and I put it on with shaking fingers.
We’re roaring down the road a few minutes later, and I have my arms wrapped around Dare’s strong body.
Within seconds, I’ve decided that this is Heaven.
I’d forgotten how good this feels.
I rest my cheek against his shoulder, and we blow through the gates of Whitley.
The wind hits my cheeks, the seat vibrates beneath me, and Dare’s back flexes as he balances the bike. I’ve never felt so exhilarated in all my life.
The countryside around us is beautiful, dotted with flowers amid all the green, and I watch it blur as we ride faster and faster. I don’t even feel afraid, and I know I can attribute that sense of well-being to Dare. He’s an expert at riding this thing, and I’m safe behind him, even on the wet and winding roads.
We don’t go far though, before he slows the bike, and we pull onto a gravel road leading to a pond. It’s remote, it’s quiet, and I have no idea what we’re doing.
So I ask.
Dare offers his hand and helps me off the bike.
“You’re going to live.”
I arch an eyebrow hesitantly.
“I’m living right now,” I tell him.