The Choice (19 page)

“Is it hard?”

“No, but it takes a little getting used to.”

“Like riding a bike?”

“As far as the balance goes. But don’t worry. I’ll be right there, so nothing can go wrong.” He smiled. “You up for this?”

“Not really. But—”

“Great!” he said. “First things first. Slide forward, okay? On your right handlebar is the throttle and the front brake. On the left is the clutch. The throttle governs your speed. Got it?”

She nodded.

“Your right foot controls the back brake. You use your left foot to shift the gears.”

“Easy.”

“Really?”

“No. Just making you feel better about your teaching skills.”

She was beginning to sound like Stephanie, he thought. “After that, the shifting is kind of like driving a manual car. You let off the throttle, engage the clutch, shift, and then throttle up again. But I’m going to show you, okay? But to do that, we’re kind of going to be sandwiched together. My arms and legs aren’t long enough to reach from the backseat.”

“A convenient excuse,” she said.

“Which just happens to be true. You ready for this?”

“I’m scared out of my wits.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, scoot up a bit.”

She slid forward, and Travis got on. After putting on his helmet, he wedged up against her, reaching for the handlebars, and despite his warning, she felt something jump inside, a light shock that started in her stomach and radiated outward.

“Now just put your hands on top of mine,” he instructed. “And do the same with your feet. I just want you to feel what’s happening. It’s kind of a rhythm thing, but once you get the hang of it, you’ll never forget.”

“Is this how you learned?”

“No. My friend stood off to the side, yelling instructions. My first time out, I squeezed the clutch instead of the brake and ended up crashing into a tree. Which is why I want to be right here your first time out.” He lifted the kickstand, engaged the clutch, and started the engine; as soon as it began to idle, she felt the same fluttery nerves she’d felt the moment before the parasail lifted her from the boat. She put her hands on his, relishing the feel of him against her.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Keep your hands light, okay?”

Travis turned the throttle and slowly eased out the clutch; in the instant the motorcycle began to move, he lifted his foot from the ground. Gabby allowed her foot to settle lightly on his.

They went slowly at first, Travis accelerating gradually, then easing off, accelerating again, and finally shifting to another gear before slowing again and coming to a stop. Then they started over again, Travis carefully explaining what he was doing—using the brake or getting ready to shift and reminding her never to squeeze the front brake in panic or she’d go flying over the handlebars. Little by little, as the process continued, Gabby got the hang of it. The choreographed movement of his hands and feet struck her as something akin to playing the piano, and after a few minutes, she could almost anticipate what he was going to do. Even so, he continued to guide her until the movements felt almost second nature.

With that, he had them switch places; her hands and feet were now on the controls, with his atop hers, and they repeated the process from the beginning. It wasn’t as easy as he’d made it seem. At times the motorcycle jerked or she squeezed the hand brake too hard, but he was patient and encouraging. He never raised his voice, and she found herself recalling the way he’d been with the toddlers at the beach the day before. There was, she admitted, more to Travis than she had initially realized.

Over the next fifteen minutes, as she continued to practice driving, his touch became even lighter, until finally he let go entirely. Though she wasn’t entirely comfortable, she began to accelerate faster and more smoothly, and braking came just as naturally. For the first time, she felt the power and freedom the motorcycle offered.

“You’re doing fantastic,” Travis said.

“This is great!” she cried, feeling almost giddy.

“Are you ready to try riding solo?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all.”

She debated only an instant. “Yeah,” she said enthusiastically. “I think I am.”

She brought the bike to a stop, and Travis hopped off. After watching him step back, she took a deep breath, ignored the pounding in her chest, and got the motorcycle going. A moment later, she was zipping along. On her own, she stopped and started a dozen times, gradually reducing the distances. Surprising Travis, she turned the bike around in a slow, wide arc and came racing back toward him. For a moment, he thought she was out of control, but she brought the bike to an elegant stop only steps from him. Unable to stop grinning, she ran her words together with kinetic energy.

“I can’t believe I just did that!”

“You did great!”

“Did you see me turn around? I know I was going too slow, but I made it.”

“I saw that.”

“This is great! I can see why you love riding. It’s a blast.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Can I try it again?”

He motioned to the road. “Feel free.”

She rode back and forth along the road for a long while, Travis watching her confidence grow with every stop and start. Her turns were executed with greater ease as well—she even began driving in a circle—and by the time she stopped in front of him, her face was flushed. When she took off her helmet, Travis was sure he’d never seen anyone more alive and beautiful.

“I’m done,” she announced. “You can drive now.”

“You sure?”

“I learned a long time ago to quit while I’m ahead. I’d hate to crash and ruin this feeling.”

Gabby scooted back and Travis got on the bike, only to feel her wrap her arms around him. As he wound his way back to the highway, Travis felt charged, as if his senses had been put on overdrive, and he was acutely aware of the curves of her body against his. They made their way up the highway, turned, and cut through Morehead City, passing by the Atlantic Beach bridge and completing the loop on their way back to Beaufort.

Minutes later, they were passing through the historic district, cruising past restaurants and the marina on their way down Front Street. Travis finally slowed the motorcycle, pulling onto a large grassy lot near the end of the block. The empty lot bordered a weathered Georgian that was at least a hundred years old on one side and an equally aged Victorian on the other. He turned off the engine and removed his helmet.

“Here we are,” he said, ushering her off the bike. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

There was something in his voice that kept her from making light of what seemed to be nothing more than a vacant lot, and for a moment, she simply watched Travis as he walked a few steps in silence. He was staring across the road, toward Shackleford Banks, his hands in his pockets. Removing her helmet and running a hand through her matted hair, Gabby walked toward him. Reaching his side, she sensed he would tell her what this was all about when he was ready.

“In my opinion, this place has one of the most beautiful views anywhere along the coast,” he finally said. “It’s not like an ocean view, where all you see is waves and water stretching to the horizon. That’s great, but after a while it gets boring, because the view is always pretty much the same. But here, there’s always something to see. There are always sailboats and yachts streaming toward the marina; if you come out here at night, you can see the crowds along the waterfront and listen to the music. I’ve seen porpoises and rays passing through the channel, and I especially love to see the wild horses over on the island. I don’t care how many times I’ve seen them, I’m always amazed.”

“You come out here a lot?”

“Twice a week, maybe. This is where I come to think.”

“I’m sure the neighbors are thrilled about that.”

“It’s not like they can do anything about it. I own it.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised when you say that?”

“I’m not sure. I guess it just sounds so . . . domestic.”

“I do own a house already. . . .”

“And I hear your neighbor is terrific.”

“Yeah, yeah . . .”

“I just meant that buying a lot makes it sound like you’re the kind of guy who has long-term plans.”

“And you don’t see me like that?”

“Well . . .”

“If you’re trying to flatter me, you’re not doing a very good job.”

She laughed. “How about this, then: You continually surprise me.”

“In a good way?”

“Every time.”

“Like when you brought Molly to the clinic and realized I was a veterinarian?”

“I’d rather not talk about that.”

He laughed. “Then let’s eat.”

She followed him back to the motorcycle, where he unpacked the basket and a blanket. After leading her up a small incline toward the rear of the property, he spread the blanket and motioned for her to sit. Once they were both comfortable, he started removing Tupperware containers.

“Tupperware?”

He winked. “My friends call me Mr. Domestic.”

He pulled out two chilled cans of strawberry-flavored iced tea. After opening hers, he handed it to her.

“What’s on the menu?” she asked.

He pointed to various containers as he spoke. “I’ve got three different kinds of cheese, crackers, Kalamata olives, and grapes—it’s more a snack than a lunch.”

“Sounds perfect.” She reached for the crackers and then sliced herself some cheese. “There used to be a house here, right?” When she saw his surprise, she waved toward the houses on either side of the lot. “I can’t imagine that this particular spot has been vacant for a hundred fifty years.”

“You’re right,” he said. “It burned down when I was a kid. I know you think Beaufort is small now, but when I grew up here, it wasn’t more than a blip on the map. Most of these historic homes had fallen into disrepair, and the one that had been here had been abandoned for years. It was a great big rambling kind of place with big holes in the roof, and it was rumored to be haunted, which made it that much more attractive to us when we were kids. We used to sneak over here at night. It was like our fort, and we’d play hide-and-seek for hours in the rooms. There were tons of great hiding places.” He pulled absently at some grass, as if reaching for the memories. “Anyway, one winter night, I guess a couple of vagrants lit a fire inside to stay warm. The place went up in minutes, and the next day it was just this smoldering pile. But the thing was, no one knew how to contact the man who owned it. The original owner had died and left it to his son. The son died, and he’d left it to someone else, and so on, so that pile of rubble sat there for about a year until the town came in and bulldozed it away. The lot kind of got forgotten after that, until I finally tracked down the owner in New Mexico and made a lowball offer on it. He accepted it immediately. I doubt if he’d ever been here, and he didn’t know what he was giving up.”

“And you’re going to build a house here?”

“That’s part of my long-term plan, anyway, being that I’m so domestic and all.” Travis grabbed an olive and popped it into his mouth. “You ready to tell me about your boyfriend yet?”

Her mind flashed to the conversation she’d had with Kevin earlier. “What’s your interest?”

“I’m just making conversation.”

Gabby reached for an olive as well. “Then let’s talk about one of your previous girlfriends instead.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them.”

“All right. One of them gave me some movie posters.”

“Was she pretty?”

He considered his answer. “Most people would say she was.”

“And what would you say?”

“I would say . . . that you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

She laughed, then pointed to the olives. “These are great, by the way. Everything you brought is perfect.”

He added cheese to another cracker. “When does your boyfriend get back to town?”

“Are we back to this again?”

“I’m just thinking of you. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m a big girl. And not that it matters, but he’ll be coming home on Wednesday. Why?”

“Because I’ve enjoyed getting to know you these last couple of days.”

“And I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.”

“But are you bummed it’s coming to an end?”

“It doesn’t have to come to an end. We’ll still be neighbors.”

“And I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind if I took you out for another motorcycle ride, or went for a picnic with you, or if you sat in the hot tub with me, right?”

The answer was obvious, and her expression became more serious. “He probably wouldn’t be too happy about it.”

“So it’ll be ending.”

“We can still be friends.”

He stared at her for a moment, then suddenly grabbed at his chest as if he’d been shot. “You really know how to hurt a guy.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head. “There’s no such thing as being friends. Not with single men and women our age. It just doesn’t work like that, unless you’re talking about someone you’ve known for a very long time. Certainly not when it comes to strangers.”

Gabby opened her mouth to respond, but there was really nothing to say.

“And besides,” he went on, “I’m not sure I want to be friends.”

“Why not?”

“Because most likely I’d find myself wanting more than that.”

Again, she said nothing. Travis watched her, unable to read her expression. Finally he shrugged.

“I don’t think you’d want to be friends with me, either. It wouldn’t be good for your relationship, since there’s no doubt you’d probably end up falling for me, too, and in the end, you’d do something you’d regret. After that, you’d blame me for it, and then after a while, you’d probably end up moving, since the whole thing would be so uncomfortable for you.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s one of the curses of my life to be as charming as I am.”

“It sounds like you’ve got the whole thing figured out.”

“I do.”

“Except for the part about me falling for you.”

“You can’t see that happening?”

“I have a boyfriend.”