He laughed. She couldn’t be cuter as she raved about the gardens over lunch, going on about the types of flowers they’d seen and how magical the day had been, as dreamy-eyed as she was overzealous. He didn’t tell her they still had four more gardens to see, because he was into her no matter what her mood, but her excitement lit up everything around her, including him, resurrecting parts of him he’d thought he’d killed off long ago. He wanted to stay in her light, to soak it in and become a part of it.

He wrestled with the edginess that desire caused as they finished lunch and headed back to the bike. Tracey gazed up at him, her hazel eyes dancing with happiness. She patted his chest, smiling when he didn’t flinch at her touch.

“I sure like you, growly guy.” She rose onto her toes and kissed him.

He helped her onto the bike, and when she wrapped her arms around him, he felt like a fucking king.

The rest of the day was just as exhilarating, and later that evening, as they drove over the bridge into Peaceful Harbor, the sun skimming the mountains in the distance, Diesel wasn’t ready for their ride to end. He knew Tracey was going to be tired from using muscles she hadn’t even known she’d had, but it would be worth it. Kind of like the last few nights. He grinned to himself, savoring the memories of not just the incredible sex they’d had, but of holding her while she’d slept, feeling her nestle in as close as she could during the night, as if she were trying to burrow beneath his skin in her sleep, and of the indescribable sensations that filled him each morning when her beautiful smile was the first thing he saw.

He cruised past the bar, continuing beyond the road that led to Tracey’s place, heading to the other side of the Harbor. He drove the rural roads he knew by heart, meandering through the foothills of the mountains, and pulled into the entrance of the place with the best view in all of Peaceful Harbor. He climbed off the bike to open the old metal gate blocking the gravel driveway, which looked like it led into the heart of the majestic mountains. He straddled his bike and drove down onto the property, which was flanked by acres of overgrown pastures, and parked in front of the small log cabin at the base of the mountains. The windows were boarded up, the roof littered with leaves and branches from the tall trees. The porch steps and floorboards were warped from age, and a large tree stump sat in the middle of the overgrown grass out front, seedlings sprouting out like surprises.

A familiar sense of peace came over him as he helped Tracey off the bike.