Page 54 of For the Record

I snorted. “Oh wow. Did you print out a map to get here too? What else is back there, a picture of your glory days and a receipt from your senior coffee?”

“Stop.”

“You gonna go home and fall asleep in your recliner watching Antique Roadshow after this?”

“You’re such a pain.” He rolled his eyes and turned off his car before stepping out.

One of the sharks, a younger one, made his way straight to us, his little legs swiftly taking off like a bird at the beach looking for a stray Dorito.

“Good afternoon. Is there anything I could help you two with?” He smiled at us, and I did my best to not zero in on the tiniest spinach leaf between his teeth.

“Yamaha R6?” Adam dipped his brow as if that was a fully sentenced question and not a bunch of letters strung together with a question mark at the end.

My lips lifted as I watched the blond sales guy sputter. This was a common occurrence. When we’d go out to eat, Adam would order like he was new to Earth’s customs and hadn’t been taught that you needed more than a few basic words to socialize. I used to get onto him, tell him it was rude not to ask how someone was doing when they asked you first. He shrugged and said I don’t care how they’re doing. Which was an odd contrast, considering every time we left a restaurant, he would deep clean the table and seats, stacking our plates and cups so it was easier on our waiter.

“Uh, y-yes, sir. They’re over here.” The man directed us to the back left of the lot.

I snorted and whispered to Adam. “You’re scaring him.”

He grimaced at me, his eyebrows squished together and his head tilted. “I just answered his question.”

My chest vibrated as I shook my head and smiled to myself. “Okay, big guy.”

The poor salesman really did try his best to give Adam a sense of direction and advice toward the bike itself, but what he didn’t know was that if Adam Wells was interested in something, chances were he’d been up until three a.m. researching. There wasn’t a single thing Adam did without considering all sides.

Eventually the khaki-clad kid—Kole, I found out—gave up on winning Adam over and settled for simply handing us both a helmet and a set of keys to take the bike on a test drive.

Of course, knowing Adam, the helmet wasn’t enough, and he insisted they bring out some kind of riding gear. When they came out with only one set of riding pants and a jacket, he quickly pointed to me and said, “For her too.”

After we waited a while, someone came out with a smaller version of what Adam had. We each slipped on the pants over our clothes, and although they were baggy, I was comforted knowing I was safer now if something were to happen. Adam zipped up his jacket before turning to make sure mine was on right. He tightened the Kevlar-type material before looking me over once more. We didn’t have the proper shoes, but apparently, they didn’t have any inside. Adam insisted we would buy some for me soon, which meant he was going to buy this bike whether I tried to talk him out of it or not.

Once Adam checked my gear—three times—he nodded and walked me over to the bike he had in mind.

It was odd to find a motorcycle cute, but if I were to say one was quite adorable, it would be this one. Completely blacked out, just like Adam wanted, headlights tilted like little eyes looking at you. I was going to call it Toothless, but I wasn’t going to tell Adam that. He’d already told me once that my obsession with How To Train Your Dragon was a little much.

Adam slipped his helmet over his head, dark black encasing his face and leaving only piercing green eyes and a smattering of freckles for me to see. Calla’s thing for masked men? I was beginning to get it. It was all making sense now.

He held the smaller helmet out to me. I eyed it and then the bike. I knew he had done this a hundred times before. Nothing new on his end. He told me before about his buddies from when he’d first joined the military that had a couple of bikes. That they’d taken him on rides and he’d immediately gone to get his license in case he decided to get one. He never had before. I immediately warned him of the dangers, but somehow, that part only made him more excited. Either way, riding a motorcycle hadn’t ever been on my bucket list.

My lips twisted, and I sucked in a breath.

Adam’s head tilted toward me, and he lowered his voice. “Do you think I would ever let something happen to you?”

I considered it for a brief moment. Adam letting me get hurt? The same Adam who refused to let me spend the night alone when my power was flickering?

“No. I’m always safe with you.” I smiled at him, and he shook a helmet my way.

He comfortably took his seat on the bike, wrapping his hands around the throttle, squeezing and shifting to test it out. I hesitated to hop on until he turned to me, jerking his head back and patting the empty space behind him.

I’m safe with him.

I hiked a leg, lifting it to one side before trying to settle into the seat. It felt kind of like I was riding a horse, which I had never done, but I guess it’s what I pictured this felt like.

Adam looked back at me before double-checking to make sure my helmet was on. Then he gave me a quick tap on the thigh. I leaned into his back, wrapping my arms around his body and sinking into the heat of his jacket. My cheek tightened as I smiled against him.

His fingers wrapped around the throttle and pulled as the engine roared to life underneath us. My heart rate spiked, even though I knew Adam wouldn’t allow me to be hurt. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, and I squeezed my arms around his abdomen, pulling him close. The closer he was, the safer I would be. That went for all things.

“You good, Stevie?” He had to yell so I could hear him. His tone was joking, but still. I knew if I told him I wanted to get off right now, he would absolutely let me.