The air was cool, and though the breeze slight, at the speed we traveled, it whipped at my clothes and tangled my hair. The insane happenings of the evening had me feeling a little disjointed. It was almost impossible to gather my thoughts through my shock.
By the time we hit the 20 and exited, we had slowed slightly, but he still checked his mirrors frequently.
For an indeterminate time, I was simply along for the ride with my eyes closed.
He downshifted, and the bike leaned as he pulled into what seemed like a drive, then stopped. Blinking rapidly, I peeked around him to see where we were. Streetlights were few and far between, and only a tiny light or two twinkled in the distance. With it being a new moon, it was black as pitch. All I could see was a chain-link fence and gate. We were obviously out of town, but I couldn’t say how far. With my eyes screwed shut, I hadn’t been paying attention. And I sure didn’t recognize the place—at least not in the dark.
“Hop off,” he said as he shoved the kickstand down and got off the bike. The gravel crunched under his boots as he moved to the chain that secured it. His movements were quick and efficient as he worked a combination. Within seconds, the lock opened, and he unwrapped the chain. Then I watched as he shoved the rolling gate open enough for the bike to fit through. “Hurry, get in here.”
Nerves had my entire body shaking so much I stumbled. He quickly caught me and supported me through the opening. He had me lean against the fence after I was on the other side. Once he knew I would stay upright, he rolled the bike through the gate and replaced the chain and lock.
“Let’s go,” he murmured as he guided me to the bike, placed my hand on his shoulder, and threw his leg over the seat. He motioned for me to climb on. Awkward, I was afraid I would tip the bike over in my clumsy attempt to follow his instructions with my trembling limbs. His powerful legs held the bike that barely moved as I settled on.
Going slower, he drove up the winding gravel drive through overgrown cedars and what appeared to be live oaks. Though his headlight cut a swath in the dark, it was hard to tell what fell outside its bright arc. Before I knew it, we stopped, and he cut the engine.
He swung his leg forward over the tank to dismount and held out a hand to help me. My skin practically sizzled when I wrapped my fingers around his. To top it off, my heart lurched, and a strange fluttering hit my guts.
When my feet hit the ground, I was thankful for his supportive hold because my shaking legs buckled. He crouched enough to hook his arm under my knees, then lifted me and carried me up to the door. “I’ve got you,” he softly assured, sending my pulse into overdrive.
As he set me down, he kept an arm wrapped around my shoulders to keep me steady. The movement had my body pulled flush to his, and I almost groaned at the effect he had on not only my body but my thoughts.
I wanted him.
Fiercely.
What shitty timing.
“Hold this,” he instructed as he handed me his phone with the flashlight turned on. That same zing hit me when our fingers brushed. His scent surrounded me, and I breathed him in, absorbing the intoxicating blend of his subtle cologne and the part that was merely who he was.
He entered a series of numbers into the combination door lock.
“Where are we?” I asked him when the door swung open, and I was in his arms again, shining the light so he could see.
“Near Lancaster,” he replied. Obviously, not a man of many words.
“What is this place?”
“My club owns it” was all he said before he kicked the door shut. He flicked the switch a couple of times, but nothing happened. “I thought we might get lucky,” he muttered.
I glanced around. It was evident no one had been here in some time. Though the chairs were all up on the tables like it was an establishment that was closed, there was a thick layer of dust on everything. Then again, this was Texas, and if there was anything we had a lot of in the country, it was dust.
“Maybe your club should hire a cleaning lady,” I said before sneezing.
He grabbed a chair from a table and set it upright. When he placed me on my feet, I promptly plopped in the seat. Though I was happy to have somewhere to sit with my still wobbly legs, I missed being in his arms already.
“I need to look around. Will you be okay for a minute?”
I nodded and handed him the phone for light. “Yes.”
Trying to process everything that had happened in the last few hours, I wrapped my arms around myself and watched him go down a hallway. He was only gone for a couple of minutes, but my heart rate skyrocketed as I seemed to hear every little creak and groan of the wind hitting the building. When he came back out, I watched as he made his way over to a roll-up door on a side wall. He messed with a few things, then lifted it. The sound seemed obscenely loud in the tomb-like silence of the unoccupied building. He went out, and I heard his bike start. My heart leaped into my throat, and for a moment, I was afraid he was leaving me.
I needn’t have worried, because the bike’s rumble grew louder as he rounded the building. It reached a crescendo when he pulled into the building, then he cut the engine and pushed the kickstand down. He wasted no time in getting off, closing the garage door again, and securing it.
Once he was satisfied with the security of the entrances, he rummaged around behind the bar. To my surprise, he pulled out a flat crate. Then began to pluck several somethings out and loaded up his arms. When he came back, he set his finds down on the table.
“There were candles here?” I asked incredulously.
He shrugged before a soft rasping sound was followed by a small flame. I’d assumed it was from a lighter, but his hand was empty. His fingertip bounced from wick to wick, and I watched in awe as he lit most of the candles. Then he placed them around the table. A soft glow lit the obviously abandoned building.