Don’t Look Back(24)
Author: J. Lynn

The door opened, and he was looking over his shoulder. “I got it, Dad! I’ll be back in a little while.” Turning, he gave me a lopsided grin and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I repeated, stepping back.

Carson eased around me and then motioned me to follow him when I didn’t move. Red and blond highlights appeared in his shaggy hair under the sun. “Since you didn’t arrive in a car, I’m hoping you don’t mind my method of transportation.”

I’d figured he’d borrow his dad’s truck or something, but he stopped in front of the motorcycle, pulling the blue tarp off it. My stomach dropped. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever been on a motorcycle.”

“Not with me. And I seriously doubt pretty boy would risk his face to ride one.”

I glanced at him. Del was a pretty boy, and while Carson was hotness incarnate, his features were rougher around the edges. Pulling out a hair tie, I wrangled my hair into a low ponytail. Shorter strands slipped free, curving around my cheeks.

Carson handed me a sleek black helmet. “It’s really easy. Just hold on tight.”

My gaze dropped to his narrow waist, and my insides turned to goo. I turned the helmet over slowly. “How…how do you know where Cassie lives? I never asked.”

He squinted. “She used to throw a lot of parties.”

I shifted from one foot to another, thinking about what Candy had said. “Did you guys…date or something?”

His eyebrows knitted. “Why are you asking?”

“One of the girls mentioned it. Said you two hooked up.”

Unexpectedly, he laughed. “I’m kind of curious as to why I’d even come up in conversation, but whatever.”

I couldn’t let it go. “So did you?”

He looked away, squaring his shoulders. “Yeah, we did.”

A red-hot feeling unfurled low in my belly, sliding through my veins like a snake. “Did we ever hook up?”

His head snapped back to me, and his brows shot up his forehead in astonishment. He choked out a “No.”

“Why not?”

A heartbeat later he gave me a close-lipped smile, and his eyes lowered. “Good question. I’d have to go with the fact that we didn’t get along.”

Made sense, and I really needed to stop asking questions, but curiosity had its claws in me. “Then why did you hook up with Cassie?”

Carson moved closer, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Honestly? I really can’t tell you why. I was at a party she was throwing. We both were drinking. You two had just gotten into an argument about something—I don’t know what about—and she came on to me. End of story.”

There was a name for what I was feeling. Jealousy. Something I had no ownership to, but it was there, boiling my blood. “So she came on to you, and you were all about it? Just like that?”

His eyes narrowed into lively, thin crescents. “That’s how it happens. If it makes you feel better, I don’t remember much of it. And she wasn’t with Trey then.”

I forced a laugh. “It doesn’t make me feel anything. I was just curious.”

“Sure you are.”

“What about Lauren?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Some of the amusement faded from his expression. “Lauren and I didn’t hook up. We went out on one date, much to all of her friends’ shock—including yours. She didn’t want a second one.” He grabbed the helmet out from under my hands. “Are you done with the personal Q-and-A?”

“Yeah,” I said, embarrassed. Along with amnesia, I must’ve lost any and all filters. Worried that he’d changed his mind, I went for the helmet, but he stepped back. “What are you doing?”

He flipped it. “Helping you out.”

I stood still and waited. Carson moved forward again, and with one hand, he tucked back the shorter strands of my hair. Tingles shot across my skin as his knuckles brushed my cheek. My lips parted as he did the same to the other side. His hands were large but incredibly gentle. I wondered if he’d touched Cassie like that, but I pushed that thought away.

Carson slid the helmet on, buckling the straps under my chin. Each time his fingers touched my skin, I shivered.

“There,” he said, his gaze lingering below my eyes. “You’re ready.”

Before he could slip the shield down, I grasped his hand and had the worst case of verbal diarrhea known to man. “I had you listed as my security question.”

Carson blinked and let out a tight laugh. “What?”

“On my e-mail account, it asked who my childhood friend was,” I explained, nervous and wishing my mouth had a stop button. “It was you.”

“Interesting,” he said, pulling his hand free. Without further explanation, he moved the shield down. “Let’s go.”

Not the reaction I’d been hoping for, but then again, I had no idea what I’d wanted him to say. Confused, I watched as he climbed onto the bike and patted the seat. Swallowing, I swung a leg over and sat. When the motor roared to life, I tentatively placed my hands on his waist. Under the sweater, his muscles were hard and toned.

My mouth went dry.

Shoulders shaking with silent laughter, Carson reached down, grasped my hands, and pulled them so that they were clasped across his navel. The motion brought my br**sts flat against his back and left very little room in other places. The scent of him—citrus and soap—seeped in under the helmet.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Not because of the jerk of the bike moving into gear or the fear of flying off when his tires moved onto asphalt, but because every cell in my body was responding to how close we were. It was wrong, the way I snuggled against his back as the wind beat upon us, especially when I hadn’t even felt a smidgen of this with Del.

Cassie lived about five miles past the old battlefield, down a road obscured by large maples. As we passed the numerous monuments and old, wooden fences surrounding them, interest stirred inside me, and I almost wanted to ask Carson to stop. When we rode up to Cassie’s house, it was like seeing another version of my own—sprawling and beautiful.

Carson came to a stop, and I slowly took off the helmet. So many questions went through my head. What would I say when I saw her parents? Would they be welcoming or turn me away? Most of all, was I making a mistake by coming here?

Carson placed his hand on my back intuitively. “Are you sure you want to do this?”