Page 86 of Sugar & Shadows

He already had one camera bag slung across his shoulder, and he was moving with purpose. “The north side of the farm. That’s where we installed the old-fashioned bucket setups for the maple cam. The tubing and collection tanks won’t create the nostalgia Harper requires. But this will.”

I nodded like that meant something to me.

“It’s a bit of a ride.” He handed me a helmet. “Put this on and then I’ll get the GoPro going.”

“Why that area?” I asked, forcing my brain to focus on the task at hand. Today was a huge day for the town, and it suddenly dawned on me that it could all go wrong. That thought sent my pulse racing and my stomach turning.

“South-facing trees tend to run first in the day.” He stepped closer and adjusted my chin strap. “And those are some of our oldest trees. They run strong and early every year, so we set up the maple cam there.”

His fingers brushed my jaw. It was brief and incidental, but the contact made my pulse jump.

As he secured the GoPro to the front of my helmet, he wore a serious expression, his focus entirely on the task.

“I don’t know how to drive an ATV,” I said as he turned and walked toward a large mechanical death wish.

“I do.” He pulled his own helmet on and gave me a goofy thumbs-up.

Shuffling closer, I surveyed the machine. “So I just sit?”

“Yup. And hold on tight.”

“To what?” I asked, moving in and really studying the thing. There were no handles. No seat belts.

He sidled up close enough that I could feel the heat of his body through all our layers of clothing.

“To me,” he whispered. “You hold on to me.” His voice was deep and confident, sending butterflies fluttering inside me.

He straddled the ATV then, and my brain short-circuited. As if he had no idea how his every move affected me, he gripped the handlebars and revved the engine.

When the machine growled beneath him, I stepped closer, intrigued.

This was a terrible idea. Death trap, wilderness, questionable decision-making.

And yet.

Against my better judgment, I climbed on, wrapped my arms around his waist, and held on for dear life.

It was the biggest mistake I’d made since that night in the motel room.

Because he was solid and warm and comforting. And he smelled so good. My arms barely fit around him, my fingers just touching as I splayed my hands over his strong stomach.

“Good?” he yelled over his shoulder.

No. I was not good. Not with the engine vibrating beneath us like this. Not with my core pressed up against his ass.

“Drive,” I shouted back.

The ATV lurched forward, snow kicking up behind us, and we shot forward into the trees.

Tightening my grip, I leaned my chest against his back, getting even closer.

It was purely practical. For safety. And I barely noticed the way his muscles shifted beneath my hands. Or the way he leaned into turns.

He handled this beast like it was an extension of him. And I was deeply annoyed by how attractive I found his competency.

Chapter 23

Gabe