PJ called out that they were hungry and wanted lunch so the talk needed to end. But when Duke turned around, he saw Carmella, her hair dancing in the wind now that she’d removed the scarf she’d worn under her helmet.

She was his right person. Whether he was her right person or not, he couldn’t control. Which freaked him out a little. That’s what he had to figure through.

Carmella smiled at him as he approached. “I need to carry PJ with me everywhere I go. The woman gets shit done.”

Mick bounded up and handed Carmella something. A bright red crab fridge magnet.

She looked it over, delighted.

“I got it for you at that last gas stop. To commemorate today.” Mick winked at her and she blushed.

Duke watched her, greedy for her joy at such a small thing.

“Thank you.”

“Do you collect them?” Mick teased.

“Crabs? Or magnets?”

“I know someone who collects thimbles from different places she goes. Some people do mugs. Like that,” Mick explained.

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that. How fun.” She tucked the magnet into one of the saddlebags on Duke’s bike. He’d chosen the Harley, which had a more comfortable seat for her. It gave him an excuse to have two bikes, which worked out. He’d take the BMW when he went on solo rides.

Suddenly he realized he had a lot of wonderful shit in his future with this woman. As she got close, Duke hugged her and her initial surprise melted away as she returned the embrace.

“Let’s get you fed.” He handed her the helmet after she put the scarf over her hair once more. When she slid her sunglasses into place, the beauty of her was a punch. “You sure are pretty.”

“You’re really nice to have around.”

He swallowed back that fear and chose the happiness instead.

“I eat a lot more now that I hang out with you guys. I’m not sure I can keep this up without gaining fifty pounds,” Carmella said lazily from her place on the blanket.

They’d picked up a ridiculous amount of freshly steamed crab and mussels, along with every side imaginable, and had set up on a nearby stretch of beach to eat their feast.

By that point, she lay sprawled in the sunshine, full and happy.

“Asa can drink two milkshakes a day and still be hard and flat. Not exceptionally fair, but then again, look at him,” PJ said. “My theory is all the adrenaline keeps them fit.”

“So racing and fisticuffs is slimming?”

Duke laughed from his place next to her. “It’s the new diet revolution.”

“This explains so much.” Carmella kept her eyes closed, but she smiled, knowing he watched her features.

Clifton used to watch her too. But in a calculated way. She hadn’t seen that for months, and when she finally did, she’d been married to him and didn’t want to just walk away without bothering to try.

Carmella knew Duke was different from her ex on just about every level, but the way Duke treated her was the biggest difference. He made her feel listened to. Which she supposed was why she’d been so hurt about the argument over the pills. He hadn’t listened then. But he’d taken responsibility and apologized for it.

He was really close to perfect.

Another area she didn’t want to get near at that point. Not yet. So she shoved it away and let herself have the day with her friends. She didn’t have a lot of these in her life.

At least not until Duke had burst into her life the way he had. Which was funny for such a slow-talking dude who rarely seemed to get mad. But he was bigger than life and she got caught up in his gravity every time.

Being with Duke was playing with fire and she did it anyway. Which was probably why it always felt so good.

“I guess I’m failing to understand, but the idea of getting punched for fun seems to miss the entire point of recreation to start with,” Carmella said.

“Probably a lucky thing for your potential opponent. In my experience with you, I imagine you’d get in there and tear shit up. It’s always the little ones.” Duke dropped down to kiss her.

“What? You don’t tear shit up when you fight?”

“Do you want to see it for yourself?” Duke asked quietly.

Did she? Did she want to watch Duke beat someone up or get beaten up? Was this any different from the losers she tried to get away from?

“Maybe.”

Carmella didn’t want to think about it. About how if it wasn’t different from those guys, then why did it make her excited? The idea of watching all the nice guy Duke worn away to the badass underneath zinged through her.

And what did that make her then? Like Virgie? Like she was with Clifton at first? It felt different, but was she lying to herself the way her mother did to enable her addiction to shitty men with no job and a predilection for prison?

All through this panicked internal monologue, Duke watched her like he knew exactly what she was thinking. And he let her process without pushing. Not speaking to make his case or sweet-talk her off the subject.

“Let’s get back on the road, folks,” Mick called out from where he stood with some of the other guys from the shop.

Her friends.

Duke stood, giving her a hand up, and when she stood, he kissed her temple. “Ready to ride? This next stretch is a longer one, so if you need to stop, let me know, okay?”

Beyond words for a moment, she just nodded with a smile.

CHAPTER Fifteen

Come to the track tonight,” PJ said as she came into Twisted Steel the following Wednesday.