Page 4 of Riding the Sugar High

“Mayfield.”

There you go. What’s that, a six-hour flight from here?

It makes it easier for me because she could be living inside my house, and I still wouldn’t date her—or anyone else, for that matter.

“Well, thank you for...” I vaguely point at the ground, where we were sitting just a minute ago, and her small shoulders hunch. “If you notice any damage to your car or need anything while you’re in town, Farm Coleman.”

“Farm Coleman? You’re afarmer?”

The disgusted grimace on her lips makes me regret my offer instantly, and she must notice, because she quickly waves both hands.

“Oh my god, sorry. No—my ex, he...” Studying me suspiciously, she shakes her head. “Anyway, the car is a rental, and I’m leaving tomorrow. Are you sure you’re fine to drive?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” She still doesn’t look convinced, but she takes a step back. “Well, it was...nice? To meet you.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure how I feel about it either,” I say as I hop onto my bike. I should leave, but for some reason, I can’t.

“I think I can help with that. You feel grateful.” Dipping her chin, she adds, “And a little turned on.”

“That sounds about right.” I start the engine, and when it sputters with a rocks-in-a-tin-can sound, I glare at her through the gap in my visor. “Mostly turned on. A little grateful.”

“Stop on the side of the road next time.”

I grin, and though there’s no way she can tell, she does too. With one last wave, she spins on her heel. “Bye, then.”

“Hey.”

She twists to glance at me over her shoulders, her blue irises even brighter now that the bike lights are shining directly on her face.

I hold up her scrunchie. “This is yours.”

With a little “hm,” she walks closer. I hand it over, and her eyes study mine for a long moment before she turns to leave.

My eyes dip down her dress, the same pink of cherry blossoms in spring, gently hugging her upper body before flaring out slightly at the waist, and settle on her ass. Once she enters the car and her headlights flash on me, the engine emits a feeble sputter, like a tired cough struggling to gain momentum.

Then the headlights turn off.

With a mumbled curse, I kill the off switch.

be my partner in crime

Primrose

“Look,just call road assistance. That’s what they’re for,” the man says in a gruff voice as he exits the car. He’s been trying to start the engine for the past ten minutes with no result, so it’s safe to say something important is broken.

This is just perfect, isn’t it? Just brilliant.

“It’s a rental.”

“Then call the rental company.” He studies me for a few seconds through the slit in his helmet and shrugs. “See ya.”

My eyes flare.

This guy can’t be serious. The car is broken because of him, and now he’s just going to leave me out here to fend for myself against wild beasts in the middle of the night? “Wait—where the hell are you going?”

He keeps walking. “Uh, none of your business?”