Page 95 of Fake it for Keeps

Or would it just hurt us both?

“Did I use too much oregano?” I asked instead, chickening out. “Tell the truth. I can handle it.”

Colt smiled at me and shook his head. “The food was delicious. Don’t change a thing.”

“Great,” I said.

The conversation moved on until he asked me to tell him about my father. His tone was so genuine, like he really cared.

I smiled thinking about my old man. “Well, he loved motorcycles.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. I used to beg him to let me ride with him. I showed him how good I was on my bike. I couldn’t have been older than eight—maybe nine at the most. My mom had a rule, no street bikes, not even to sit on one, but Dad said it wasn’t really riding if we weren’t on the main road.”

My smile grew wider as I thought back to that day.

“He took me for a ride on the back of his Harley, really slow on the road that ran parallel to the beach. My mother panicked when she saw us pull out, but it was one of the best days of my life.”

I could still remember the feel of the wind whipping past us, the smell of salt air mixing with exhaust and leather. The way my dad had kept one hand back on my leg the whole time, making sure I was secure. Making sure I felt safe.

“I felt like I was flying,” I said, my voice getting soft with the memory. “Like we could just keep going forever. Just me and my dad and the open road.”

Colt was watching me like he was seeing me for the first time. “What did your mom say?”

I laughed. “My mom was furious when we got back. She stood on the porch with her arms crossed. I could see her from like a block away. But Dad just grinned at her and said, ‘She’s a natural, honey. Just like her old man.’”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“Oh, so much trouble. Mom grounded Dad for a week.” I grinned at the memory. “He slept on the couch and everything. But he told me later it was worth it. Said every daughter should know what it feels like to ride free.”

“He sounds like he was a good dad.”

“The best.” I felt the familiar ache in my chest. “He taught me how to ride a bike, how to change a tire, how to cook. He was always patient, even when I messed up. Even when I was being a brat.”

“I’m sure you were never a brat.”

“Oh, I definitely was. Especially as a teenager.” I took a sip of wine. “I went through this phase where I thought I knew everything. Where I was too cool to hang out with my parents. Dad never pushed. He’d just be there when I was ready. Working in the garage or watching TV or whatever. And eventually, I’d wander in, and we’d talk.”

“About what?”

“Everything. Nothing. School, boys, my dreams for the future.” I smiled sadly. “He always believed in me. Even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

“He’d be proud of you,” Colt said quietly.

Tears pricked at my eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

I felt something shift between us. Something deeper than attraction or chemistry or whatever we’d been calling it.

This felt real.

And that terrified me.