“Good,” I said, the cool breeze blowing hair out of my face. “And how was yours, Mr. Hoult?”
“Good as well,” Julian replied with a smirk.
“Glad to hear it,” I nodded.
The same knowing grin curved our lips as I simply stood on the sidewalk, the two of us eyeing each other for another beat of silence before Julian laughed and said, “Do you have plans tonight?”
A smile burst onto my lips.
“Not at all,” I replied as I heard the sound of him unlocking the doors.
“Good. Then get in.”
20
JULIAN
I stood back on my heels as I enjoyed my view of Sara standing in the middle of the lot, turning slowly around and around in that blue skirt as she took everything in.
“Julian… I don’t even know how to react to this right now,” she murmured as she floated over to the Hellcat.
From the tower, we had taken the car to more cars – specifically the ones in my garage on Eleventh Avenue. The moment I’d flicked the lights on in the lot, Sara had been locked in a trance. The slow click of her heels echoed in the large space as she wandered in awe, mostly silent with her hands folded in front of her.
“You look like you’re on your first field trip to the museum.”
“Quiet. You realize this is amazing, right?”
“I do enjoy it.” I slid my hands in my pockets as I made my way toward her. “I also enjoy how you’ve paid no attention to the cars thus far. They were more of what I had in mind when I asked you t
o pick our ride for tonight.”
“But I want this,” Sara whispered longingly, running her hands along the hand-stitched leather seat of what was in fact my favorite bike. “Why do we have to take a car? Look how beautiful this thing is.”
“While you have impeccable taste, that’s an F131 Hellcat Combat, and it has no passenger seat, so I promise you, we’re not taking that,” I said, giving a laugh as she promptly stalked off to find a different bike to admire.
“Hm. Something tells me you ride motorcycles for the express purpose of being alone,” she observed dryly, and correctly, after passing three more with no passenger seat. “Uh-oh. Look what I found,” she lilted as she made her way to my Norton Commando. A wicked curl touched her lips as she ran her fingertips along the passenger seat. “Looks like we have a winner.”
“Sara. I’d prefer something with doors. And seat belts.”
She flashed a teasing smile as she mounted the Norton in her skirt. Christ.
“Why? You ride these things,” she pointed out.
“Yes. I do.”
“Well, if you’re not worried about your safety, then no need to worry about mine.”
“We’ve established I have difficulty with this,” I said, but I’d already lost her attention at this point. That curtain of dark hair fell over her shoulder as she tilted her head to look at something.
“Oh. Norton,” she murmured with familiarity.
“You know it?”
“Not really. It’s just my dad had a Norton belt growing up,” she said, her voice lost in memory. “It had this logo and a little British flag.”
“He had a bike?”
“Definitely not, but he was British. Still is, as far as I know.”