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“That’s the Girl Scout pledge,” Isla points out, grinning. Then she narrows her eyes. “You will drive the speed limit.”
“I will drive the speed limit,” I repeat. “Girl Scout’s honor.”
A full smile breaks across her face, like the sun emerging after a storm. There’s no denying how sexy she looks in the helmet. It contrasts with the sundress giving her this sweet-yet-sassy vibe. I get on and she hesitantly climbs on behind me. I can tell she’s trying not to touch me too much as she puts her arms around my waist. I can feel her breasts pressing against my back, her knees jutting into my thighs.
“Hold on tight,” I say, turning the key and revving the engine. We pull out of the parking lot and Isla gives a shriek, her whole body clamping around me. She molds herself against my back as we fly down Main Street, the warm wind whipping past us.
When we shoot past Everton and out onto the open road, I feel a change in her, a shudder along the length of my spine.
She’s laughing.
“Woooooo!” she cries, and the sound lifts me up, it carries me off, it buoys me like no other sound I’ve heard. Isla’s cry of joy is my own personal ecstasy. I feel lighter than I have in five years. Like she’s unlocked something long buried inside me.
“Want to go a little faster?” I call back to her.
“Yes!” she cries.
I kick up my speed and she curves around me, no longer tense but excited. Her palms are splayed across my chest and stomach, her knees pressing eagerly into my thighs. I can feel her heart pounding against my back—we’re like one unit, speeding past wide open fields and farms bursting with color and rows of vineyards, occasional glimpses of the ocean visible on our right-hand side. I want to bury myself in this moment. I never want to live another second without Isla’s arms wrapped around me.
When we get to the small town where Carl lives, I slow my speed, peering at the street signs, bringing up the map in my head from my research last night. I find the right street and roll down it, glancing at every number on every mailbox until I come to an idling stop.
Isla’s arms tighten around me. “This is it?” she asks.
I nod and turn off the ignition. She’s a little wobbly from the ride so I help her off the bike. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, I tell myself. Nothing at all to do with how badly I want to keep touching her. Her hand is so small in mine. She straightens and takes the helmet off.
“That wasfun,” she gushes.
“I can teach you how to drive if you want,” I offer. I’ll do anything for more time with her.
She laughs and the sound is like the bubbling of a brook in spring. “I don’t know if I’m there yet.”
There’s another buzz from her purse. She gives a faint, almost exasperated, sigh as she pulls it out and responds to the text. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from asking if everything is okay again. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.
She puts her phone back in her purse and glances up at the house. “Do you really think this is the man who…”
I nod, taking off my own helmet and hanging both on the bike’s handle.
To my surprise, Isla grabs my hand once more and squeezes it.
“Okay,” she says. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ISLA
We walk up the small cement path filled with cracks to the little white house.
My legs are still shaky from the ride. I didn’t expect it to be so much fun. The feel of Caden’s muscles beneath my palms and the arch of his back against my chest set tingles running over my skin.
The front lawn is mostly weeds and the paint on the shingles is peeling. Caden raps on the door then takes a step back. From somewhere inside the house comes the sound of a dog barking.
“Quiet down!” a man’s voice says and the barking stops. The door is thrown open and Caden and I find ourselves facing a pudgy man in a white T-shirt with a bad combover.
His eyes pop when he sees Caden.
“Hello, Carl,” Caden says.
“Caden Everton,” Carl says. He glances around nervously. “What are you doing here? Last I heard, you fled the country.”