Page 51 of The Games We Play

“I’m taking you on a date. An overnight date. Dress warm. Pack a small bag. Nothing fancy.”

Okay, so my first thought is totally that he’s taking me on a date he planned. Guys I dated recently always led with the old chestnut,what doyouwant to do?None of them stepped up, figured out the details, and showed up at my door. “What if I hadn’t been available?”

He grips the back of my neck. “Then we wouldn’t have gone on the date.”

“Where are you taking me? Because you warned me about guys like you, taking me places where they could take advantage of me. Are you asking me to break the rules you set for me?”

Spark narrows his eyes. “For fuck’s sake. I got a small fishing cottage. Thought you might want to go up there with me. Hike and shit. Get some rest. You need a fucking itinerary, or are you going to go pack that bag?”

“Itineraries are extremely helpful so I can grab appropriate attire and prepare myself beforehand.” I put my hand on my hip and pop it.

"Fuck. You serious?”

I shake my head and laugh. “No. Give me five minutes.” I turn to run up the stairs, and he smacks my butt.

He doesn’t even pretend to look embarrassed. “What? You were being bratty, and it’s a fine ass, Iris.”

Some combination of the shock of the slap, his compliment, and his smile sends tingles to all my good bits. I bite my lip as I hurry upstairs, wondering if tonight is the night we’ll sleep together. Had I known, I would have shaved my legs. Maybe I can at his cabin. If not, he’ll have to deal with a bit of stubble.

I throw stuff together. Minimal toiletries, a change of outfit, some pajamas. “Okay, I’m ready,” I shout as I run down the stairs and hand Spark my small bag. “Shit. Wait.”

“What did you forget?” he asked.

“I need my bag back for a minute.”

He holds the strap away from me. “Why?”

I sigh. “You’re going to make me tell you everything, aren’t you?”

Spark huffs a laugh. “Or die trying.”

I’m feeling bolder. More confident. He’s here because he wants to be. “Fine. As I ran back down the stairs, I realized I should have packed sexy underwear instead of comfortable cotton, and a slip instead of pj’s.”

His smile turns into a grin. “Think you’re going to get lucky tonight, little chick?”

Folding my hands over my chest is tricky with the brace but I try. “I don’t know. Am I?”

“Cotton panties and pj’s will be just as sexy as anything lace or silk, because you’ll be wearing it.” He tips his head in the direction of the leathers. “Now put those on.”

I bend and try to pull the leathers up my legs but struggle. Spark gently moves my hands out of the way and shimmies the leathers up over my butt. “You think I’m sexy?” I glance over my shoulder as I fasten them.

“Always, little chick.”

He zips my jacket and laces up my hiking boots. Then he kisses me before he puts a helmet on my head.

Five minutes later, we’re off. And this time, unlike the day he brought me home after the date with Jason, he lets loose. At least, to me, this is what loose feels like. We fly down the shore, and I finally stop paying attention to where we’re going. Instead, I lean into the road like Spark does.

We stay off the highway. And as I squeal and laugh, Spark steps on the gas. During a momentary lapse in judgement, I try to put the arm with the brace in the air but nearly get blown off the back of the bike. I feel the rumble of Spark’s laughter through his body.

Cabins and cottages surround a large lake when we pass a small sign welcoming us to Hopatcong. Then we pull up outside a rather tired-looking building. The pale blue walls and uneven roof need some tender loving care. But it’s steps from the lake and has the cutest white door. Grass surrounds it, and Spark wheels his bike onto the patchy turf.

Happy to climb off the bike after an hour and a half, I wobble a little when my feet hit the ground. “That was fun. I really enjoyed it.”

Spark laughs and takes his helmet off before removing mine. “I could tell. Think I lost an eardrum.”

I slap his arm playfully. “I’m surprised you wear a helmet. I thought badass bikers would think it beneath them.”

“Some do. But I’ve been thrown to the ground before. I know what it feels like to wonder if you got a concussion or brain injury.”