Instead I opted to refill ice tea and offer snacks. It was the longest hour and a half ever.

* * *

At about six o’clock we were wrapping it up, and I felt my phone buzz. I waved goodbye to Liz and Faith who were catching a ride with Brenda and slunk into the kitchen for some privacy. A bubble of nervous tension lodged in my throat.

Late Night Visitor: Do you ever watch sunsets?

Me: Yes, we get those here, too. You missing California?

I wondered if my text responses came over snarky, or amusing.

Late Night Visitor: California, not especially. You, yes. I found a spot for a sunset—you want to come watch it with me?

I put the phone down and was banging my head against the kitchen wall when Jazz came back in. She cocked her head at me. I pointed at my phone. She picked it up and looked at the text.

“Late Night Visitor? Interesting ... Oh man, sunsets? Does he have a playbook?” She rolled her eyes. It would have seemed cheesy from anyone else but not from Jack for some reason.

“Jazz, I’m in so much trouble. I really, really, like him. And he has to go back to Audrey.”

I tried to explain Jack’s situation to her as best I could.

“But just because they are photographed together, doesn’t mean they actually have to be together? Right?”

“God, I hope not. But he hasn’t really said. Am I being totally played, Jazz?”

“Look, Keri Ann. I don’t think so. I mean, I saw his face yesterday when you walked out, it didn’t look like it was easy for him. But what do I know? I don’t want to give you bad advice. Nana always said ‘love was taking a chance at life’... or was it ‘life was taking a chance at love’? Hmm, oh well. Or maybe it’s ‘go for it, you only live once.’”

“Fat lot of good you are.” I thumped her arm.

Nana always had a lot of wise nuggets and greeting card phrases tripping off her tongue. Most of the time we’d roll our eyes. Affectionately, of course. I probably should have paid more attention. I’d take a fortune cookie for help right now.

“Look,” Jazz swung an arm around my shoulder, “I’ve been telling you this forever, but it bears repeating. You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”

“Ha ha, Jazz. I‘m serious here.”

“So am I, K. Listen, you are gorgeous, you’re funny, you’re talented. I know deep down you believe in yourself. The facts speak for themselves, and I’m not just talking about the chandelier you sold today. There is no reason you wouldn’t attract any man you wanted. I think you need to trust your gut.”

A small kernel of quiet confidence deep inside made itself known as I heard, and really for the first time, started to believe the words, started to trust myself. And my gut said Jack had asked me to take a chance on him, and I should go for it.

Jazz grabbed her backpack and pulled out a bunch of files and papers, then headed to my fridge and pulled out a bottle of white wine and a block of cheese.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Packing a romantic picnic.” She grabbed grapes, a box of crackers, and a knife. I handed her the bottle opener, and she stuffed it all in the bag.

“Wow, thanks, I’d love to spend the evening with you, where shall we go?” I asked her.

“Idiot. Do you have any plastic wine glasses?”

“No.” I reached for two glass ones and wrapped each one in a dishcloth.

Was I really going to do this?

Yes. Yes, I was. I grabbed my phone and texted Jack to pick me up in twenty minutes, and then Jazz and I raced upstairs so I could get ready.

T W E N T Y – S I X

Fifteen minutes later, I flew down the front steps with the backpack as Jack stopped his bike and planted a leg on the ground. He didn’t take his helmet off but handed me a spare one he was cradling between his legs.

“I had Katie send it,” he answered my unspoken question.

At least I hadn’t done much to style my hair other than braid it loosely. I smiled, put the helmet on, and adjusted the pale pink cashmere scarf Joey had given me last Christmas.

“Nice bike.”

“Thanks, it’s a Ducati. I hope you aren’t nervous of speed.”

My heart was beating a mile a minute, but it had nothing to do with the bike.

If Jack thought I wasn’t dressed appropriately to ride a motorcycle, he didn’t say anything. I grabbed his arm and swung a cowboy-booted leg over his bike, causing my short brown jersey dress to hike up around my bare thighs.

I scooted forward as far as I could, making sure my skirt was safely tucked under my behind and molded myself to him, gripping his jean-clad legs with mine. I wrapped my arms around his middle, and then inside the soft leather jacket that was open. His body was hard and strong under his t-shirt.

He cleared his throat. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go for a drive first, then we’ll stop. You up for that?”

“Sounds great.”

He brought a hand down to my thigh for a second, then he gave my leg a brief squeeze and slid his hand slowly off. He turned the bike on. My hands gripped his middle tighter and I held my breath as I heard and felt the deep roar, and then we took off.

I had never been on a motorcycle before. It was scary and exhilarating and sexy as all hell. My blood pounded through me in waves as I reveled in the feeling of being wrapped around Jack’s hard warm body, the deep throbbing reverberation of the bike beneath us, and the cold wind whipping over my skin.

The sun was low in the sky as we crossed the bridge to the mainland. I cast my eyes across to the yellow and silver streaks of the horizon. The reflection of the sky over the water of the Intracoastal Waterway created a gleaming sea of mercury. I would remember this moment forever.

When we reached the other side, Jack let out the throttle and leaned down, head into the wind. I gasped and pressed myself to him harder, laughing with exhilaration. My hands felt the rumble of Jack’s chest, and I knew he was laughing too.

I had no idea how fast we were going, but I was pretty sure we were breaking about seventeen laws. There was hardly any traffic, and we were far away from Butler Cove in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t believe he was taking such a risk, if he was pulled over, his cover would be blown immediately.

I wished I could press my face to his back, but the helmet was a bit of a problem, although I was grateful for it. Instead, I pressed my chest against him and splayed my hands out on his abdomen, trying for as much contact as possible.

It was clear he was a skillful and confident rider, his motions completely fluid and in tune with the throbbing machine between our legs. Every time he took a curve and we leaned to the side, I hugged him to me tighter. I began to wish for every curve even though the proximity of my knee to the pavement was scary as shit.

It felt so good to have an excuse to hang onto Jack. I was amused at myself as I realized what a pick up gimmick this was. There were the classic three I could think of: inviting a girl over for a scary movie, playing guitar for her, and finally, giving her a ride on a motorcycle where she was obliged to hang onto you for dear life. But, strangely, I didn’t mind. In fact, I realized how much Jack was sharing with me. And I didn’t care that it was working.

I had a sudden memory of Jack’s face above me, breathing hard, his lips taut, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed as I lost myself to him last night. I gasped at the hot, piercing lust that instantly shot through me.