“Should I hang on just as tightly when I ride with someone else?” I ask innocently.
“Hell no. That rule just applies to me,” he says gruffly. “I’m not good at sharing something that is mine.”
I tremble at the raw possessiveness of his words. I want to be his. Badly.
“Any more rules?” I ask him.
“Just one more. Lean with me when I take corners. Okay?”
“Got it,” I tell him, my heart still pounding from the intimacy between us this evening.
He climbs onto the bike and invites me to climb on as well. I swing my leg over, glad that he sent me a proper dress code. I shift about until I find a comfortable position and then inch closer. I slip my hands around his chest. My body molds against his perfectly.
“I’m ready,” I whisper into his ear, and moments later, the engine roars to life.
It’s as if we’re flying as the bike starts to move. Jack is a fast but careful rider, and before too long, we’re on Oak Street. He brings it to a stop right in front of the restaurant and kills the engine.
I slide out and take off my helmet. I laugh. “My hair must be a mess.” I shake it out.
“Not at all. It’s perfect,” Jack says and takes off his helmet.
He stores them away, takes my hand, and we walk into the restaurant together.
“How was the ride?” he says. “Did it live up to your expectations?”
“It exceeded my expectations. The only complaint I have is that it was too short.”
“Easily remedied. I’ll take you for a ride to the canyon after dinner. I know a good spot,” he says.
We are shown to a table on one end of the dining room. It’s a busy night, and we’re lucky to get a table. They don’t do reservations; it’s on a first-come, first-sit basis.
Jack’s glance darts around before settling back to me.
“I like the way you treat every new place like a novelty,” I tell him with a laugh. “You’re like a kid with a new toy.”
He laughs. “Does my novelty show?”
I roll my eyes at him. Jack is one of those people who have a natural zest for life. He eyes the world with a kid’s eyes. That must be one of the greatest gifts to have.
The waiter brings over a wine list, and we both agree on a bottle of red.
“Have you spoken to your parents today?” Jack says when the waiter leaves.
“Yes, three times. Dad is a horrible patient. He’s testing Mom’s patience with his whining. She says he’s become a little boy.”
We both laugh.
“Men generally make terrible patients,” Jack says, staring straight at me as he speaks.
That’s something else I love about Jack. If he’s with you, he gives you a hundred percent attention. He’s one of the few remaining men who don’t constantly check their cell phones. I’m sure the majority of the time, Jack forgets that he owns one.
The waiter returns with the menu.
For an appetizer, Jack and I agree to share a small guacamole dish with a side of blue corn chips. Everything looks so good. I always promise myself to be adventurous, but I always default to tacos.
Jack goes for grilled fish.
“I like this restaurant,” he says. “Do you eat out a lot?”
“Isla and I make a point of going out for dinner every other weekend or so,” I tell him.
“Your friend at the fire station,” Jack says, and when I nod, he continues, “you two are very close?”
“We are. Of course, it helps that we’re the only two females at the station, but I think we would still be close. She’s an awesome person.”
We talk about work and our colleagues. Being under my wing, Jack has not had a chance to bond with many of the guys.
The waiter brings the wine we ordered and proceeds to uncork it and pour it into the glasses. “Your food will be ready shortly.” He gives a little bow and leaves.
I pick up my glass and take a sip. When I look up, Jack is staring at me.
“Do I have something on my mouth?”
“No, I was just thinking how much I’d love to kiss you right now,” he says.
I laugh, flattered that he finds me so attractive and is not shy about showing it. He makes me feel like the sexiest woman in the room.
“I wouldn’t say no,” I respond.
He picks up his glass and takes a sip of his wine. I like how his lips wrap around the glass, making me wish he was doing that with my mouth. He frowns as he puts down his glass.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“Not the best wine.”
I throw my head back to laugh, and then I look at Jack to see if he’s serious. He is. “Are you like an expert on wine?”
“Let’s just say that I’ve had an opportunity to sample a lot of different wines. Wine doesn’t have to be expensive to be good.”