The Choice - Nicholas Sparks [59]
He took a seat and waited. And waited. And waited. He felt ridiculous, as if she were treating him like a child. He could hear her speaking in hushed tones and had no idea whom she was talking to, and he contemplated getting up and walking out the door. Still, he remained on the couch, wondering why she seemed to have such a hold over him.
Finally, with the doors swinging behind her again, she stepped into the living room.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m a little late, but the phone’s been ringing off the hook all morning.”
Travis stood, thinking that Gabby had grown even prettier overnight, which made no sense at all. “No big deal,” he answered.
The call with Kevin left her wondering again what she was doing, and she willed herself to stop thinking about it. “Let me just get my things, and we’ll be good to go.” She took a step toward the door. “Oh, and I want to check on Molly—she was fine this morning, but I want to make sure she has plenty of water.”
A moment later, with her bag flung over her shoulder, they moved into the garage and filled the water bowl to the brim.
“Where are we going, by the way?” she asked on their way back out. “Not to some biker bar out in the sticks, I hope?”
“What’s wrong with biker bars?”
“I wouldn’t fit in. Not enough tattoos.”
“You’re generalizing, don’t you think?”
“Probably. But you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Just a ride,” he said. “Over the bridge, all the way down Bogue Banks to Emerald Isle, back over the bridge, and then we’ll wind our way back to this place I want to show you.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Is it a fancy place?”
“Hardly.”
“Can we eat there?”
He thought about it. “Sort of.”
“Is it inside or outside?”
“It’s a surprise,” he said. “I don’t want to ruin it for you.”
“It sounds exciting.”
“Don’t build it up too much. It’s just this place I like to go—nothing spectacular.”
By that time, they’d reached the drive. Travis motioned toward the bike. “This is it.”
The chrome on the bike made Gabby squint, and she put on a pair of sunglasses.
“Your pride and joy?”
“Frustration and angst.”
“You’re not going to start whining about how hard it is to get parts again, are you?”
He made a face, then chuckled. “I’ll try to keep it to myself.”
She motioned toward the basket he’d attached to the back of the bike with bungee cords. “What’s for lunch?”
“The usual.”
“Filet mignon, baked Alaska, roast lamb, Dover sole?”
“Not quite.”
“Pop-Tarts?”
He ignored her gibe. “If you’re ready, we can go. I’m pretty sure the helmet will fit you, but if it doesn’t, I’ve got more in the garage.”
She raised a sardonic eyebrow. “What about this special place? Have you taken a lot of different women there?”
“No,” he said. “Actually, you’ll be the first.”
She waited to see if he would add anything else, but for once he seemed serious. She nodded slightly and walked to the motorcycle. She put on her helmet, fastened it beneath her chin, and threw her leg over the back of the seat. “Where do I put my feet?”
Travis unfolded the rear pegs. “There’s one on each side. And try not to touch the exhaust with your leg. It gets very hot and you could get a nasty burn.”
“Good to know. What about my hands?”
“They’ll be around me, of course.”
“Such a ladies’ man,” she said. “Why, if you were any smoother, I probably wouldn’t even be able to hold on, would I?”
He put on his helmet and in a single, smooth motion climbed on and started the bike, allowing it to idle. It was quieter than some motorcycles, but she could feel the slight vibration through her seat. She felt a distinct anticipatory thrill, as if she were seated on a roller coaster as it was about to start, only this time without a seat belt.
Travis eased the motorcycle forward, out of the drive, and onto the street. Gabby reached for his hips, but as soon as she touched him, she thought about his hip flexors, which made her stomach do a flip-flop. It was either that or wrap her arms around him, and she didn’t feel ready for that. As the motorcycle began to accelerate, she told herself not to squeeze, not