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Then she lifts her chin. “You expect me to believe the walking midlife crisis with a motorcycle has a responsible streak?”

“My bike doesn’t mess with my head.” I push off her car. “It clears it.”

She looks toward my bike, then back at me, still unsure.

“Come on,” I say. “I’ve got a spare helmet inside.”

“I didn’t agree.”

“Nah, but you’re about to.”

“Cocky.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

She gives me a look and I give it right back.

The breeze moves through the lot, tugging at her hair, and she rubs a hand over her arm before she catches herself doing it. My eyes drop to the movement and I pull my black hoodie over my head.

“I’m fine,” she says.

“Yes, you are.” I smirk, running my eyes up and down her body while shrugging it off my arms. “But you’re also cold.”

“I’m not. I’m—”

“Mama, your nipples could literally cut glass.”

Her mouth drops open. “Revel.”

“What? I’m observant.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I’m also warm,” I add, tugging the hoodie over her head.

Cece stares at me like she wants to argue, but another breeze slips between us, cool off the water, and her shoulders tighten before she can hide it.

“Fine,” she mutters, yanking the hoodie the rest of the way down. “But don’t get weird.”

Too fucking late.

The second it settles on her, I regret every decision that led to this moment.

Because fuck me.

The hoodie swallows her a little, sleeves falling over her hands, hem brushing the tops of her thighs. Her hair spills over the black fabric, and that little gold locket at her throat catches the light.

Something in my chest goes stupid tight.

Cece catches me staring. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring again.”

“Yeah.” My mouth curves before I can stop it. “Can’t help that you look good in my shit.”

Her cheeks shift with a reaction