Breathing His Air (27 page)

An hour later, Rain stood in the fields behind the commune’s cabins, trying not to smile over Tori’s obvious delight at sitting on a motorcycle by herself. During lunch, he’d called Torque and had him bring one of his kid’s dirt bikes to Cactus Cove for Tori to ride.

Decked out with full leathers and a helmet, Tori straddled the Honda 70. Adorable and damn sexy made up as a big, bad biker chick on a kid’s mini dirt bike, she fixated on the throttle while making purring noises, not even aware she’d drawn a crowd to the field.

“Babe?” He put his hand over hers and made her stop twisting the throttle. “You do that, and you’ll find yourself planted on your ass in the grass.”

“Oh.” She ran her finger underneath her chinstrap. “So tell me what to do.”

“Take your hand off the throttle.” He nudged her foot. “You’ll want to hold in the left clutch handle — on the other handlebar. Then tap down once for first gear. You’ll let the clutch out slowly” — he motioned to the other handlebar — “and give it some gas. Once you start moving, it’s like riding a bike. You’ll tap your foot down again for second gear when you hear the engine whine.”

“Got it.” She grinned up at him. “Can I go now?”

“Hang on.” He chuckled. “Stay in second gear, and go slow. Take your time and get used to steering. You’ll want to lean toward the turn. Don’t go too slow, or you’ll tip it over.”

“Okay.” She blew out her breath. “I’m ready.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “Slow, babe. Don’t make me regret letting you ride. I got plans for tonight, and it doesn’t involve an icepack and sitting in the emergency room with you.”

Her nose wrinkled. “I’ll be careful.”

He stepped away, giving her space. She glanced down at the bike and, biting her lip, she tapped the shifter, gave it some gas, and popped the clutch. He moved forward and started the bike again. “Slow on the clutch, more on the gas.”

She nodded, her helmet sliding forward. He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to help her more. He knew bullying her wouldn’t go over well, and hell if he knew why she all of a sudden wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle.

The bike sputtered forward. He grimaced while walking beside her. For her sake, he hoped she could figure it out.
Come on, babe.

She gave it more gas and pulled ahead of him. He stopped and let her go. Her foot slipped off the pedal, and the bike hit one of the holes in the ground. The field was the safest place to learn, but the cow pasture — evident by the many bumps and holes under the grass — made for a rough ride.

Tori put her other foot out to balance and the bike tipped, taking her with it. She landed on the grass. He jogged over and pulled the motorcycle off her. She hopped to her feet and brushed her hands on her butt.

“Can I try again?” Her chin came up and her mouth tightened.

He started the bike and held it for her while she threw her leg over. Unwavering, she went through the steps again. This time she kept the engine running, and he heard her pop it into second gear. She traveled away from him in a straight line.

Torque approached him. “Think she’ll know how to turn?”

“I hope so.” He eyed the barbed wire fence fifty feet in front of her. “Maybe I should run beside her.”

“Give her the freedom, bro.” Torque grinned. “We all survived our first ride. Most of us in this same cow field.”

Watching her was worse than the first time he learned to ride at age ten. He wanted her whole, no broken bones or any more scars marring her body. He held his breath the closer she drew to the fence line.

In the most pathetic, wobbly, erratic attempt at turning he’d ever witnessed, Tori fought to change directions on the dirt bike. Expecting her to tip the bike, he jogged over and jumped on his motorcycle.

“Hey, she made it.” Someone yelled out in the crowd.

He paused, and watched her turn the bike in his direction and head back. Not wanting her to know he’d doubted her ability to ride, he jogged out into the field. He held his hand up as she came closer, but she only focused on riding.

She stared intently at the ground in front of her, making another turn and completing her first lap. He shoved his hands in his front pockets, his fingers lying on top of Tori’s grape sucker she’d had him hold onto for later, and rocked back on his heels. Proud as hell of his woman, he silently encouraged her on.

On the second successful lap, she came close to hitting Rain and yelled, “Race you.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Goof,” he whispered to himself.

She didn’t stay around, and she was off again for another ride. Her body was still stiff and her arms continued to fight the bike, but she almost stayed in the same path. He gave her a thumbs up when she passed him.

“Come on. I want to race.” Her bike wobbled, and she caught herself, managing to pull out of the turn.

Damn, she was cute. Glad he’d changed his mind and found a solution to keeping her off his bike, he’d go tomorrow and buy her a dirt bike of her own. Who knew such a girly woman would get addicted to his lifestyle.

A motorcycle roared to life behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, took in Torque on his bike, and turned back around. Torque rode right past him a few seconds later, and he frowned.

“What the hell?” he mumbled.

Torque, in all his badass attitude, on top of his Classic chrome, enhanced Harley Davidson that’d never seen a speck of dirt before or an open cow pasture, quickly caught up to Tori and revved his engine. Tori fairly bounced on the seat. He studied her face. Only in bed had he seen her eyes alight with that much pleasure.

She threw him the cheesiest smile as she passed in front of him. The engine whined. She had no idea what she was doing. Torque drew up beside her and pointed at her clutch. She nodded. Then he pointed at her foot. Over the roar of the Harley, he couldn’t be sure if she’d followed Torque’s directions until the bike lurched, putting her in third gear.

He dug the heel of his boot in the ground. She wasn’t ready to go faster.

One by one, more bikers joined Tori on the makeshift track. He stood dumbfounded. Any other time, his riders wouldn’t dare take their wheels off the pavement.

“I’m winning,” she yelled, grinning at him as she rode by.

He moved his head and followed the procession. That was when it dawned on him what his brothers were doing.
I’ll be damned.

Twenty bikers, heavily tattooed and covered in leather, formed a posse behind his woman, letting her lead them around the cow field. He swallowed hard. Men who were his family in every sense of the word had accepted and sworn Tori into the club in the most respectful and show-worthy way they knew how.

By riding with her.

He wanted to join them, but this was her moment. Smiling and determined, she led the pack of riders around in a circle, never stopping. His family took the back seat, letting her win. He wouldn’t want to miss this moment for anything.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Dear Tori,

I’m 36 years old, and my husband is 38. We’ve been married 6 years, and romance is dead for us. We only do two things together any more. We go to the movies on Saturday night, and we go out to dinner before the movies. That’s it! I feel like we’re boring, but there’s not enough time in our week with both of us working, and we’ve fallen into a boring routine. I’m clueless on how to spice things up, and I refuse to start bowling (his idea).

Anonymous and Bored

Tori nodded on a sigh. A marriage stalemate. It was the fourth email with similar complaints she’d received that week. She clicked the mouse, dragged the email to the desktop on Rain’s computer, and put her fingers on the keyboard.

Dear Anonymous and Bored,

You obviously haven’t tried to bowl while naked. Pure hilarity, I assure you. I understand the boredom. It’s the seven-year itch thing when married life becomes normal, comfortable, and predictable. There are easy ways to spice things up and, best of all, there are cheap ways to do it. First off, we need to get you two away from the movies. That’s a distraction. You’re wasting two hours of sitting in the dark, not talking. I can think up many things you can do in the dark but for your sake, I think we need to go back a few steps and start with something that allows you to keep your clothes on.

Mystery dates!

Sit down with your gorgeous man. Each of you write a list of five things you love to do on single pieces of paper. Anything.

Now throw your pieces in a jar, and have your man do the same thing in his own jar. On Friday night, it’s your turn to pick a paper from his jar. Let’s say you draw Listen to music. It’s your job to plan a Saturday date night around what he likes to do. Suck it up, buttercup. It’s time to take one for the team, ’kay? If you don’t want to pay the price of going to a concert of his favorite band, and it’s summertime, there are lots of free concerts in parks. Or find a new local band that’s playing in the bar down the street. Go! Now this is where things spice up. This is what HE likes to do. You’ve got that covered, right? Now it’s time to give him a date he’ll never forget. Dress up, do something different. Maybe it’s wearing that skirt that’s a little too short that you’re too chicken to wear, or wearing that matching bra and panties he knows about but never gets to see on you. Sure, it’s okay to whisper what you’re wearing in the middle of a love song. You’re making his night special. He’ll like that, trust me. Remember, it’s listening to music night. Be sure to have him pull over on the way home. Tell him how much you love the song on the radio. Crank it up! Dance under the moon. Most of all, laugh and make him join in the fun.

You’ve succeeded on breaking up the boredom. You’ve focused on what he enjoys. Plus you’ve surprised him, added a little mystery, and you can bet your booty he’ll try to outdo you when it comes time to pick a mystery date out of your jar.

Remember, love is simple. People make it complex.

Tori

She reread her response. Satisfied she’d given the writer her best advice, she sent a copy to Pauline’s inbox for her to send to the editor. After two solid weeks writing for the
Pitnam Daily
, her habit of giving love advice to the world had turned into an overnight sensation. Well, at least everyone in Pitnam now knew her, and the number of subscribers to the
Daily
had risen.

The town also knew she was Rain’s woman. She smiled, shutting off the computer. Wherever she went, someone walked with her, helped carry her groceries to the truck, or created an excuse to walk the two blocks down to the bakery to join her for an afternoon cupcake. Rain eased up on his duty playing her bodyguard, and as long as she made sure to inform him where she was going and who she was with, she’d regained her freedom.

No further threats came toward her, and although the Lagsturns remained in town, not even a hint of trouble touched their lives. Personally, she believed whoever was behind the trouble had decided to move on once they discovered she wasn’t going anywhere, and remained with Rain.

A knock came. She lifted her gaze and warmed at the sight of Rain standing in the doorway.

Her stomach fluttered. “Hey, honey.”

Instead of his normal jeans and leather vest sans shirt, he’d donned a pair of his worn Levi’s and a black T-shirt that stretched over his broad chest. At last count, she’d discovered he had twelve black shirts, all the same size, style, and brand. She couldn’t complain. He looked scrumptious.

“Get your article done?” He tilted his head.

“Yeah.” She moved toward him.

“Good.” He hooked her neck with his hand and dragged her to him. “Sugar, babe.”

She kissed him slow, and he returned it, hard, wet, and demanding. Easily influenced, she held on. His tongue stroked hers, and she moved her head to give him better access. Between lips twisting, heads tilting, and mindless pleasure, nothing, not even declaring their status to the world, compared to the way Rain summed up their relationship in a kiss.

He pulled his head back a fraction, both of them panting. Her lips, sensitive and tingly, waited for more.

“Damn me … ”

“More?” she whispered, staring into his eyes.

He growled. “Can’t. I need to go pick up the burgers and dogs for the party tonight.”

“My loss.” She sighed. “The party’ll be fun.”

Tonight’s annual Summer-Palooza hosted by Cactus Cove and the Bantorus club took top priority today. Rain had invited the whole town to hang out in the parking lot and mingle over a barbeque in his desire to form a community spirit that rivaled no other. Excited for any excuse to have a good time, Tori planned to enjoy watching Rain in his element, surrounded by his family and friends.

“You want to go with me, or are you staying here?” he asked.

She walked her fingers up his chest. “Can I take you on the Harley?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Not on your life. We’re taking the truck. Stick with riding your dirt bike I bought you.”

Her smile grew. “Have I told you that Pinkstar is the coolest thing I have ever had of my own? It beats those boots you bought me and the set of leathers.”