Page 16 of Bolt's Flame
I wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling the solid warmth of his body through the leather of his cut. My cheek brushed his back, the vibration of the engine thrumming through me as the bike roared to life. It felt good—realgood, in a way that made me feel like I hadn’t felt in years.
As we sped out of the lot, the wind hit me, and I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. I’d forgotten how freeing it felt to ride like this, the world rushing by in a blur. The wind in my face, the growl of the engine, and the steady, reassuring presence of Bolt in front of me. It was one of the many things I missed during my years with James—the freedom that came with a motorcycle, the way it made the world seem smaller, simpler.
I tightened my grip on Bolt’s waist, letting myself relax into the ride. This wasn’t about figuring him out or sorting through my mess of feelings. This was about the moment, about enjoying something I’d forgotten I loved.
The ride into town was over too quickly, and I wished for a longer ride. It was easier to focus on the road, the warmth of Bolt’s body, and the feeling of the bike beneath me than on the mess my life was right now. When Bolt pulled into the grocery store parking lot and cut the engine. I sighed in disappointment that it was over.
Bolt swung off the bike first, his usual calm demeanor firmly in place. He held out a hand to help me down, which I didn’t really need, but I took it anyway. His grip was firm, warm, and it lingered just a little too long.
“You alright?” he asked, almost like he could read my mind.
“Yeah,” I said, pushing my hair out of my face. “I’ve missed riding.”
He looked at me for a second longer than necessary, his eyes unreadable. “Figured you’d be used to it, with Horse as your dad.”
“I am,” I replied, a little more confidently now. “But it’s been awhile. James wasn’t exactly the type to hop on a motorcycle... or allow me.”
Bolt’s expression tightened, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded toward the store. “Let’s grab your supplies.”
We walked into the store together, the normalcy of the grocery aisles calming my nerves. Bolt grabbed a buggy, and I started picking up the ingredients that Josie didn’t have while Bolt pushed the buggy beside me. He didn’t say much, but I could feel him watching me, as if he was trying to figure out what made me tick.
What was he trying to figure out?
I wasn’t used to someone like him with his intense gaze, paying attention to me like this, trying to dig inside my head without asking questions, like my face held all the answers.
“So, you and Josie seem to be gettin’ along,” Bolt said after a while, his voice casual, but I could hear the edge in it.
I glanced up at him, caught off guard by the random question. “We are and he’s been really nice. He’s helped me settle in, letting me use the kitchen for my baking. I appreciate it so much and how kind he’s been.”
Bolt’s jaw tensed just a fraction, but he didn’t say anything at first. “Yeah, a damn stand-up guy.”
“He is,” I agreed, grabbing a bag of brown sugar and tossing it into the buggy. “It’s been nice having someone to talk with about some of my interests and stuff.”
That seemed to hit a nerve, though I couldn’t figure out why. Bolt didn’t look at me, just stared at the shelves ahead of us as we moved down the aisle. I wondered what was going on in his head, why he cared so much about who I was spending my time with. He was the one who always had someone on his arm, especially Jenny. So why did it matter who I talked to?
The silence between us stretched, and it was a little uncomfortable. It was like we were both trying to figure out whatthiswas, this strange pull between us that neither of us seemed to understand.
I certainly didn’t.
We finished gathering the groceries, and Bolt picked up the bags like it was second nature, which I found odd for a man like him. As we headed back to the bike and he fit everything into the saddlebag, I could still feel the tension between us, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
I can’t fix what I don’t understand.
When he handed me my helmet, our fingers brushed again, and I felt that spark—the one that made my heart race every time I was near him. I couldn’t deny it anymore. There was something there, something neither of us was ready to acknowledge. But it was there, and it was growing, but neither of us knew how to navigate it.
The ride back to the clubhouse was the same road, the same scenery, but the air between us felt heavier, charged even. I held on to Bolt just a little tighter, not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. Something I never thought possible with a man after what James had done to me. And when we pulled into the lot, I felt an almost crushing feeling in my chest that it was over.
As I climbed off the bike, I caught Bolt watching me again, that same confused expression in his eyes.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, offering him a small smile.
He nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a beat too long. “Anytime.”
I turned and headed inside, but the feel of his eyes on my back stayed with me. I shut the door behind me and as I started down the hall, Jenny appeared in front of me, a tight smile on her face.
“The men here are good at helpin’ the needy,” she said, not losing that tight smile. “Especially Bolt, but that’s all it is.”
Was she warning me away from Bolt? That mean spirited remark sure sounded like it, so I replied with a big smile, “I wouldn’t know about him helping the needy, but it sure was nice of him to help me out today, being on the back of his bike, holding on tight as we rode, it was what I needed.”