off.
Twenty minutes later, the city was behind us and we began climbing into the hills.
“Where are we going?” I called.
“It’s a surprise.”
“How far?”
“The thing about a surprise that makes it a surprise is you have to wait and see.” He was teasing me. It felt good—familiar.
“You can go a little faster,” I called after several minutes. We were on a steep incline heading up, still travelling at thirty-five miles an hour, which seemed ridiculous on the open road.
“Excuse me?” he called over his shoulder.
“It’s all right to go a little faster,” I said, raising my voice.
“As you wish.” He turned the throttle, and the bike growled to life as if being woken from a deep sleep. We weaved our way farther into the hills. The air got cooler and crisper as we continued our ascent.
We turned off the main road and continued on what appeared to be a narrow, private road. After a few minutes, he stopped by an old wooden fence and turned the motor off.
“It’s through there,” he said, pointing toward a stand of trees.
“How do you know about this place?”
“I looked into your mind with my angel sense and saw what you thought would be the perfect picnic ground. And then I found it.”
“Really?”
“Of course not!” he said laughing. “You really think I can look into your mind? You are too gullible, Megan.” He removed the cooler and blanket from the rear of the bike and started toward the trees, still laughing. “I have a bridge in Brooklyn I’d like to sell you—cheap,” he teased.
“It wasn’t that funny,” I chimed as I followed him. I was starting to get annoyed. “How am I supposed to know what angels can and can’t do?”
“If I could read your mind, don’t you think you’d know it by now?”
That made sense. “All right, all right, you got me.”
He dropped the cooler, spun around and cradled me into his arms. “Darn right I got you. And I may never let you go.”
My breath caught in the back of my throat. I didn’t dare respond because I had no idea of the words that might come out of my mouth. My head was spinning over the prospect of never letting go. I looked into Guy’s eyes. They were dark and dreamy and smoldering. “Is it hot out here?”
We were standing in a meadow that had been concealed by the trees. It was gorgeous, complete with wild flowers and a babbling brook.
“No,” he said, looking into my eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
Perhaps it was the altitude, or perhaps it was being so close to him knowing he was all mine, but my dizziness increased. “I need to sit down.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” He whipped open the blanket and spread it onto the grass. It made a soft, crunching sound as it came to rest. Then he took me by the elbow and eased me onto the blanket. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you. I think it’s because I haven’t eaten anything all day,” I lied. I couldn’t tell him it was his presence that was dizzying. I couldn’t risk being laughed at again.
He began setting up the picnic. He pulled a basket of fresh strawberries from the cooler, popped the stem off one and held it to my lips. “Here. Eat this.”
It was delicious—fresh and juicy with just the right amount of crunch.
After a few minutes, he handed me a plate of fresh fruit, cheese and half a Portobello Panini. There was fresh-squeezed orange juice to wash it down.
My stomach was beginning to settle, and I discovered I actually was hungry. I began to eat.
“It’s delicious.”
“I try.” There was a smugness to his response. I’d almost forgotten about his arrogance and how much I loved it.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I said, putting my sandwich down.
An odd look came over him. “I wasn’t so sure myself.” He sighed. “But here I am.”
“And Roxanne?”
Another odd, guarded look.
“What about Roxanne?”
There were so many questions I had about Roxanne: would she be coming back; did he still love her; would they
Twenty minutes later, the city was behind us and we began climbing into the hills.
“Where are we going?” I called.
“It’s a surprise.”
“How far?”
“The thing about a surprise that makes it a surprise is you have to wait and see.” He was teasing me. It felt good—familiar.
“You can go a little faster,” I called after several minutes. We were on a steep incline heading up, still travelling at thirty-five miles an hour, which seemed ridiculous on the open road.
“Excuse me?” he called over his shoulder.
“It’s all right to go a little faster,” I said, raising my voice.
“As you wish.” He turned the throttle, and the bike growled to life as if being woken from a deep sleep. We weaved our way farther into the hills. The air got cooler and crisper as we continued our ascent.
We turned off the main road and continued on what appeared to be a narrow, private road. After a few minutes, he stopped by an old wooden fence and turned the motor off.
“It’s through there,” he said, pointing toward a stand of trees.
“How do you know about this place?”
“I looked into your mind with my angel sense and saw what you thought would be the perfect picnic ground. And then I found it.”
“Really?”
“Of course not!” he said laughing. “You really think I can look into your mind? You are too gullible, Megan.” He removed the cooler and blanket from the rear of the bike and started toward the trees, still laughing. “I have a bridge in Brooklyn I’d like to sell you—cheap,” he teased.
“It wasn’t that funny,” I chimed as I followed him. I was starting to get annoyed. “How am I supposed to know what angels can and can’t do?”
“If I could read your mind, don’t you think you’d know it by now?”
That made sense. “All right, all right, you got me.”
He dropped the cooler, spun around and cradled me into his arms. “Darn right I got you. And I may never let you go.”
My breath caught in the back of my throat. I didn’t dare respond because I had no idea of the words that might come out of my mouth. My head was spinning over the prospect of never letting go. I looked into Guy’s eyes. They were dark and dreamy and smoldering. “Is it hot out here?”
We were standing in a meadow that had been concealed by the trees. It was gorgeous, complete with wild flowers and a babbling brook.
“No,” he said, looking into my eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
Perhaps it was the altitude, or perhaps it was being so close to him knowing he was all mine, but my dizziness increased. “I need to sit down.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” He whipped open the blanket and spread it onto the grass. It made a soft, crunching sound as it came to rest. Then he took me by the elbow and eased me onto the blanket. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you. I think it’s because I haven’t eaten anything all day,” I lied. I couldn’t tell him it was his presence that was dizzying. I couldn’t risk being laughed at again.
He began setting up the picnic. He pulled a basket of fresh strawberries from the cooler, popped the stem off one and held it to my lips. “Here. Eat this.”
It was delicious—fresh and juicy with just the right amount of crunch.
After a few minutes, he handed me a plate of fresh fruit, cheese and half a Portobello Panini. There was fresh-squeezed orange juice to wash it down.
My stomach was beginning to settle, and I discovered I actually was hungry. I began to eat.
“It’s delicious.”
“I try.” There was a smugness to his response. I’d almost forgotten about his arrogance and how much I loved it.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I said, putting my sandwich down.
An odd look came over him. “I wasn’t so sure myself.” He sighed. “But here I am.”
“And Roxanne?”
Another odd, guarded look.
“What about Roxanne?”
There were so many questions I had about Roxanne: would she be coming back; did he still love her; would they
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