Outlaw's Promise(24)

I’d never felt anything like it. It was nothing like driving. In a car, you’re cocooned in a metal box, your air filtered and the noise of the outside world muffled and mixed with talk radio until you’re barely aware of it. When you ride, you’re there: you lean with every turn, you feel the wind go from a gentle tickle to a full-on rush through your hair as the bike accelerates...it’s more like flying than driving.

And I was doing it with him. My arms were wrapped around his waist, my breasts pressed against the warm leather of his cut. He sheltered me from the fiercest of the wind, unless I peeked out around his shoulder: just like in the bar, he was my mountain, my rock. My skirt whipped and billowed in the wind, demure one second and revealing the next, and I didn’t care at all.

As we left the highway and started to descend a winding mountain path, it got warmer. Carrick throttled back and we cruised: long, lazy turns, the engine dropping from a roar to a throb. I’d already fallen in love with the Harley. Riding it—even as a passenger—was like a partnership, like being on a faithful horse who’ll do your bidding as long as you treat it right. I wanted to get down on my knees beside the thing and just stare at it, fingering the mechanisms until I knew how everything worked. God, I’m such a geek.

At the bottom of the mountain, we rode into thick forest and followed a road that skirted a lake. As we came to a break in the trees, Carrick pulled over and nodded for me to look. I turned my head...and gasped.

Across the calm waters of the lake, nestled at the foot of the mountain, was a small town with wide, pretty streets and buildings that looked like they hadn’t changed much in a hundred years. A waterfall started partway down the mountain and split into three separate falls just a hundred yards from the main street. The town faced onto the lake and the whole scene—the mountain, the forest, the town, the falls—was reflected in the surface. It was picture-postcard beautiful.

“Haywood Falls,” muttered Carrick, trying but failing to keep the pride out of his voice.

I didn’t say anything. I thought of Teston, with its grimy strip malls and shuttered, abandoned houses. Of my old house and its dusty field of failed crops. This was a different world.

Carrick twisted the throttle and the Harley’s throb rose to a glorious, unashamed bellow, a joyful yell that echoed off the trees, announcing our arrival. It was impossible not to grin.

As we reached the edge of town, a sheriff’s car fell in behind us. The man driving trailed us for a few seconds, then pulled alongside. The sheriff was in his fifties, his uniform stretched tight over his rounded stomach. He glanced across at Carrick and Carrick nodded a sober greeting, as if he knew the guy.

I saw the sheriff glance at me, then raise an eyebrow at Carrick and grin. He looked friendly...but then I remembered the chief of Teston police. He’d seemed friendly and trustworthy, too.

The sheriff pulled ahead of us and sped off. As we came into town, Carrick slowed and started pointing out places: a warehouse the MC owned, where they sold cheap clothing; the sheriff’s office; the movie theater; the church. I didn’t recognize the names on the stores. There was no Gap, no Walmart...not even a Starbucks.

We pulled up in front of a place that optimistically called itself a department store—if that was true, each department must be the size of my living room back home. “We’d better get you something else to wear,” Carrick said as he switched off the engine.

I looked down at my dress. “What’s wrong with this?”

He twisted around, which pressed his knee between my legs. His eyes met mine and I kind of gulped: I’d gotten so used to cuddling up to his back, I’d forgotten how close he’d be, when he turned around. For a second, he just looked into my eyes. Then his gaze tracked down over the low-cut front of my dress, over the tight bodice and down to where my legs were revealed by the skirt. “I’ve gotta stop in at the clubhouse and let them know I’m okay. I ran out on them last night. But if you walk into the clubhouse like that, you’re going to start a riot.”#p#分页标题#e#

I flushed. Me? But I followed him into the store.

He told me to pick out whatever I wanted. I settled on sneakers, a pair of indigo blue jeans, a couple of tank tops and two bra and panty sets and then went looking for a blouse to keep my arms out of the sun. With my pale skin, I had to be careful.

That was when the two girls found me. Tall, blonde and willowy with rich, even tans, both of them in shorts and tight t-shirts that showed off their perfect little upthrust breasts. Meanwhile, I was standing there in my weird, handmade dress looking like a top-heavy reject from the fifties.