“You might…” I take a deep breath. “Not want to mention this to Connor. If you feel like you can omit it without, I don’t know, lying.”

My mother smiles. “Poor Connor. No one wants to tell him anything.”

“If he weren’t so dang opinionated, maybe we’d tell him more stuff.”

“I might be able to fail to mention it. But you might want to think about telling him that you and Brody—” She looks outside. “—are?” she finishes. A question.

I shake my head. “Does it make any sense to tell him when I’ll be gone in a week, two at most?”

She tilts her head to the side. “You’re sure about that?”

I don’t answer her, because I don’t know the answer.

“I’ve always liked Brody Wilder,” she says. “He has good manners and a big heart. I figured he’d get the rest of it out of his system.”

I don’t want Brody Wilder to get anything out of his system. I like him exactly the way he is.

I don’t say that out loud, but maybe my mom can see it on my face, because she says, “Oh, Rachel.”

I give her one more hug. Then I step outside and wave at the beautiful man on the beautiful bike in my parents’ driveway.

He waves back, and a smile breaks over his face, lighting up the world.

Okay, Brody Wilder, you got me, I think.

He hands me the helmet, shows me how to fasten the chinstrap, and tests it to make sure it fits.

“You’ll mount behind me, here,” he says. “There’s no backrest, so you have to hang on to me tight.”

“Mount behind you. Hold on tight. Sounds pretty good to me.”

Brody’s eyes get big.

I grin. “What? Did you think good girls didn’t talk dirty?”

“Pleasantly surprised,” he murmurs. “If you need to tell me something while we’re riding, you can tap my shoulder once for ‘stop when it’s convenient,’ twice for ‘it’s urgent,’ and three times for ‘right the fuck now.’” His gaze flicks to mine and I raise my eyebrows.

“Are there signals for slower and faster, too?” I ask.

He closes his eyes. “Rachel.”

“Just curious.”

“Pat my right thigh for slower,” he says. “And if you want to go faster? Squeeze me tight with your thighs.”

He delivers that instruction with full-on Brody smolder and my knees go liquid. Pretty sure he’s messing with me on that one, but I’m okay with it.

He gives me a few more instructions—what not to touch, because it’s hot, what to do when we’re turning, how not to throw him off balance, and how I’ll get off the bike at the end.