The car behind us laid on their horn, alerting us to the light change. (Clearly, they didn’t realize they were honking at an unmarked police cruiser.) Cade’s jaw clenched tighter as he turned back to the windshield.
The spell was broken.
I sat back in my seat, heart pounding twice as fast as it should be. He hadn’t even touched me, but every inch of my skin was tingling. I knit my gloved hands together in my lap to keep still.
The silence was even heavier, now. Full of things I was far too scared to address.
“Do you have a sidecar for Socks?” I asked, desperate to shift this conversation into safer waters. “On your Harley?”
Cade was silent.
“If not, you should get one. Maybe a little pair of doggy goggles, so his eyes don’t tear up when you ride.”
There was another beat of silence. Then, without warning, Cade threw his head back and laughed — a deep, lush, full body laugh that vibrated through me in a shockwave.
I’d heard him chuckle before, I’d heard him scoff. But I’d never heard himlaugh. Not like this, anyway. And, god, it was a great laugh. The best I’d ever heard by a mile.
My toes curled inside my boots as I listened to it fade. My eyes were stuck on his face, transfixed by the sight of his strong white teeth flashing in a grin, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. I was so mesmerized, in fact, I didn’t even realize he’d turned into The Sea Witch lot and pulled up to the porch. Not until he reached over and shifted into park.
“A sidecar for Socks,” he muttered, traces of his grin still evident on his face. “Doggy goggles. Fuck, Goldie. That was funny.”
“It was a serious suggestion,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“You do that.”
And then, I smiled at him. I couldn’t help it. Watching him smile, watching him laugh… his joy was infectious. But as he watched my lips turn up into a grin, his own disappeared. The humor drained out of his eyes, replaced by that simmering heat I’d seen moments before, at the stoplight. Only this time, it was even hotter.
I thought surely he was going to lean forward, close the gap between us, and kiss me. Instead, he tore his eyes away, took a visible breath, and shoved open his door.
“Come on. I’ll walk you to the porch.”
Right.
Right.
What was I thinking? I had no business getting involved with this man. Even setting aside the small fact that I’d be gone in a few days, he was a cop. He’d already informed me he had plans to look into my past. I needed to stop imagining what his arms would feel like wrapped tight around me and start holding him at arm’s length.
“You really don’t have to do that—” I started to protest, but he slammed his door closed. I took a series of steadying breaths, then got out my side and met him by the back of the SUV. He’d already removed my bike from the trunk and set it on the ground. Hitting the button to close the lift gate, he wheeled the bike one-handed up toward the porch, then stowed it beside Rory’s smaller red one in the rack by the base of the front steps.
“Um. Thanks,” I said, feeling awkward. “For the bike. For my car. For being so, uh… nice to me.”
Cade wasn’t feeling awkward. I knew this as soon as he turned to me. There was a determined look on his face that made my stomach somersault even more than the heat in his eyes. When he stepped toward me and took my hand in his big one, the somersaults escalated to full on back-handsprings.
“Imogen.”
I sucked in a breath. “Y-yes?”
“Something you should know.”
Oh, no.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But I still managed a weak, “Yes?”
“I’m not doing this because I’m nice.”
“You aren’t?”