Read Online Compliments by Mari K. Cicero - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mari K. Cicero
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yard, I see a single cyclist getting off his ride and reaching for his helmet. When he takes it off, I’m shocked to see a spray of blond hair fall over a pair of what I know are beautiful, blue eyes.
“Hawk?”
He hears me and looks up my way, though I imagine in the twilight it’s difficult to actually make out my figure through the mesh of the screened porch walls. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”
“Only if Rapunzel had some serious relaxer and one hell of a weave.” I cover my mouth to keep the laughter at bay. “Where is your car?”
He fakes shyness. “Come on, I can’t take you out for a night on the town in a RAV-4. Not without officially turning in my man card.”
“I don’t judge you based on the car you drive.”
“Only despite it, huh?” He looks between me and his bike. “You can drive if you don’t feel comfortable on the back of a hog.”
“No, it’s fine. I just need to change. I’ll be down in a second.”
I shimmy out of my dress as soon as I’m safely back inside. The heels will have to go too. I kick them under my bed and rush to my closet where I pull out a pair of jeans and a purple sweater. While the days are still warm, the scent of fall is in the air. The nights are getting nippy, and if I’ll be on the back of his bike, I’ll need the extra warmth. Not to mention, the purple makes the brown of my eyes stand out.
Hawk is waiting at the door below, bearing a helmet, as I come out. Taking it from him, I push it over my head.
“Where did you get the bike?”
“Had it for a while, actually.” He points toward it vaguely. “I don’t like riding it on campus. Too many assholes who like to key bikes down there for kicks. No one ever keys an RAV-4.”
“And I’m assuming you’ve planned something for us and don’t, in fact, need my input.”
“I have intentions, most of them honorable, but I’ll always welcome your input. Any requests?”
I open my arms to the sky. “I’m starving. Feed me! After that, I’m in your capable hands.”
“Oh, Miss Lewis, have you somehow gone and found out how capable my hands are?” He winks as he raises my right hand to his mouth and kisses my fingers. “But everything in its own time.”
Easy for him to say. Weak in the knees, I become overly sensitive to how close our bodies are as I straddle his bike and hold on to him.
The city of Manderson has just about as many cafés, bistros, gastropubs, and restaurants as it has graduate students. So it surprises me when, instead of heading for the downtown district that rolls across the valley just a half-mile from my apartment, Hawk steers us toward the main road out of town. I’m positive it’s a ploy as soon as we merge into the right lane of the interstate. Moving this fast on a bike, fear festers inside of me and I find myself wrapping my arms even more tightly around his midsection. He’s an excellent cyclist, and after a few minutes I begin to relax. I open my eyes right in time to see him move his hand and flick on the blinker.
We exit the highway and hang a left. From the elevation at the top of the interstate overpass, a vision more beautiful than a painting presents itself. Manderson lies only a few miles away from the shore. At this hour the sun is sinking across the lake. A watercolor sunset streaked with blues, reds, pinks, and purples serves as a background for the silhouette of honking geese making their way south. He must hear my gasp because he artfully runs one of his hands over mine while still maintaining complete control of the bike.
Serenity is fickle. As we pull into a desolate waterside parking lot, the theme from Psycho begins to play in the background of my mind. There’s two other cars in the lot outside of what looks to be a hundred-year old cabin. Faded blue paint on a plank over the door spells out THE GOOSE’S NECK. As I take off my helmet and hand it to Hawk, I look at him with more than a little confusion.
“What?”
My chin
“Hawk?”
He hears me and looks up my way, though I imagine in the twilight it’s difficult to actually make out my figure through the mesh of the screened porch walls. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”
“Only if Rapunzel had some serious relaxer and one hell of a weave.” I cover my mouth to keep the laughter at bay. “Where is your car?”
He fakes shyness. “Come on, I can’t take you out for a night on the town in a RAV-4. Not without officially turning in my man card.”
“I don’t judge you based on the car you drive.”
“Only despite it, huh?” He looks between me and his bike. “You can drive if you don’t feel comfortable on the back of a hog.”
“No, it’s fine. I just need to change. I’ll be down in a second.”
I shimmy out of my dress as soon as I’m safely back inside. The heels will have to go too. I kick them under my bed and rush to my closet where I pull out a pair of jeans and a purple sweater. While the days are still warm, the scent of fall is in the air. The nights are getting nippy, and if I’ll be on the back of his bike, I’ll need the extra warmth. Not to mention, the purple makes the brown of my eyes stand out.
Hawk is waiting at the door below, bearing a helmet, as I come out. Taking it from him, I push it over my head.
“Where did you get the bike?”
“Had it for a while, actually.” He points toward it vaguely. “I don’t like riding it on campus. Too many assholes who like to key bikes down there for kicks. No one ever keys an RAV-4.”
“And I’m assuming you’ve planned something for us and don’t, in fact, need my input.”
“I have intentions, most of them honorable, but I’ll always welcome your input. Any requests?”
I open my arms to the sky. “I’m starving. Feed me! After that, I’m in your capable hands.”
“Oh, Miss Lewis, have you somehow gone and found out how capable my hands are?” He winks as he raises my right hand to his mouth and kisses my fingers. “But everything in its own time.”
Easy for him to say. Weak in the knees, I become overly sensitive to how close our bodies are as I straddle his bike and hold on to him.
The city of Manderson has just about as many cafés, bistros, gastropubs, and restaurants as it has graduate students. So it surprises me when, instead of heading for the downtown district that rolls across the valley just a half-mile from my apartment, Hawk steers us toward the main road out of town. I’m positive it’s a ploy as soon as we merge into the right lane of the interstate. Moving this fast on a bike, fear festers inside of me and I find myself wrapping my arms even more tightly around his midsection. He’s an excellent cyclist, and after a few minutes I begin to relax. I open my eyes right in time to see him move his hand and flick on the blinker.
We exit the highway and hang a left. From the elevation at the top of the interstate overpass, a vision more beautiful than a painting presents itself. Manderson lies only a few miles away from the shore. At this hour the sun is sinking across the lake. A watercolor sunset streaked with blues, reds, pinks, and purples serves as a background for the silhouette of honking geese making their way south. He must hear my gasp because he artfully runs one of his hands over mine while still maintaining complete control of the bike.
Serenity is fickle. As we pull into a desolate waterside parking lot, the theme from Psycho begins to play in the background of my mind. There’s two other cars in the lot outside of what looks to be a hundred-year old cabin. Faded blue paint on a plank over the door spells out THE GOOSE’S NECK. As I take off my helmet and hand it to Hawk, I look at him with more than a little confusion.
“What?”
My chin
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