I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I was surprised I didn’t taste blood. My voice was as stiff as my shoulders when I said, “Look, I don’t know what you think you know?—”
“You’re a good person. That’s what I know.”
I jolted in surprise.
What?
A good person?
Maybe he didn’t know about my past, after all.
His eyes were crinkled up in amusement. “Why? What did you think I meant?”
Realizing my mouth was agape, I clicked it shut and swallowed hard. “Nothing. I just… I wasn’t…” I shook my head and told myself to stop talking before I gave him even more reasons to be suspicious of me.
He stood up abruptly, apparently done with this conversation. Tossing our trash in the bin beside the bench, he reached out a hand for mine. “Come on, Goldie.”
“Where are we going?”
“The auto shop.” He paused, waggling his fingers impatiently when I didn’t grab them. “I told Puck I’d bring you by sometime today so we could talk about your car.”
“But…” I shook my head rapidly. “You didn’t even know you’d see me today.”
He grinned, like that was an adorably misguided thought. Then, patience expiring, he bent forward, swiped my hand from my lap, and pulled me to my feet. He tugged me along behind him, large strides eating up the path back toward where we’d come from.
“Hang on!” I dug in my heels. “We’re going the wrong way!”
“My cruiser is parked behind the Hawthorne.”
“Well, my bike is parked by the Witch Museum!”
He arched a single dark brow. “Where’d you get a motorcycle?”
My cheeks flooded with heat. “It’s… uh… more of a two-wheeler.”
“Ah. A bicycle. That makes more sense.” His other brow arched to join its mate. “Georgia’s?”
“Declan’s.”
There was a short pause. “You borrowed a ten-year-old’s bicycle?”
“He’s eleven!”
“Goldie…” Cade shook his head. His shoulders were shaking too — from suppressed laughter. “That’s not really the point.”
“Oh, whatever!” God, my cheeks were on fire. “Just tell me where the auto-shop is and I’ll meet you there.”
He shook his head, tightened his grip on my hand, and began marching in the opposite direction, toward the Witch Museum. I had no choice but to scurry along after him or else be dragged.
“Cade! Where do you think you’re going now?”
“To get your bike,” he said without breaking stride.
“It’s not a tandem.”
He looked over his shoulder to grin at me. “I’m not planning to ride with you. This isn’t a chick flick.”
“Who said anything about?—”