The Ride
1644 Words
The press conference had gone better than I expected.
Not perfectly.
Logan had ignored one sentence from my statement, added two of his own, and somehow managed to make a joke about his motorcycle without making the situation worse.
For Logan Hayes, I considered that a victory.
By early afternoon, the immediate damage had begun to settle. The headlines were no longer accusing Hayes Corporation of staging a publicity stunt, and the Kessler partnership had not been pulled.
But we still had a problem.
The original security footage had revealed a gap of eleven minutes between the cameras shutting down and the moment Logan appeared at the gala entrance. Eleven minutes that nobody at Hayes could explain.
And now I had someone who might be able to fill that gap.
Elena Ward, one of the event security coordinators, had agreed to meet us at a warehouse on the other side of the city. She had worked the gala and claimed she had seen someone entering the security room shortly before the cameras went offline.
Normally, I would have taken a car.
Unfortunately, the city had other plans.
“There’s been an accident on the main road,” Marcus told me over the phone. “Traffic is barely moving.”
“How long?”
“At least an hour.”
I looked at the clock.
Elena was meeting us in forty minutes.
“We can’t wait that long.”
“I know.”
I hung up.
Logan was standing across the office, scrolling through his phone.
“Problem?”
“Traffic.”
“Where are we going?”
I told him.
He slipped his phone into his pocket.
“I’ll take you.”
“I have a driver.”
“Not today.”
“I’m not getting into a car with you.”
“I wasn’t offering a car.”
I looked at him.
He held my gaze for a second.
Then he said, “We’ll take my bike.”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You’re serious.”
“Very.”
“No.”
“It’s the fastest way there.”
“No.”
“We’ll make it.”
“I said no.”
Logan leaned against the edge of my desk.
“You’re afraid.”
“I am not afraid.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I have never been on a motorcycle.”
That wiped the amusement from his face for a moment.
“You’ve never?”
“Not once.”
He looked genuinely surprised.
“No.”
“Not even as a kid?”
“No.”
“Not with a boyfriend?”
“I’ve never had a reason to.”
His mouth twitched.
“Then I guess today is a big day.”
“It is not happening.”
“Olivia, we don’t have time.”
“I’ll call another driver.”
“You won’t make it.”
“I’ll call Marcus.”
“He’ll tell you the same thing.”
I picked up my phone.
Logan reached over and gently took it from my hand.
I stared at him.
“Give me that.”
“Come on.”
“Logan.”
“We have thirty-seven minutes.”
“I don’t care.”
“You care about the case.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m getting on a motorcycle.”
His expression softened.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know that.”
“Then trust me.”
I almost laughed again.
Trust him.
That was the last thing I should have been doing.
Especially after one night with him had already left me with memories I was actively trying not to think about.
And now he wanted me to sit behind him on a motorcycle.
The thought alone made my stomach tighten.
He stepped closer.
“You sit behind me. You hold on. That’s it.”
The words should have been innocent.
They weren’t.
Hold on.
My mind betrayed me immediately.
His hands.
His body.
His voice in the dark.
The memory came so vividly that I had to look away.
Logan noticed.
Of course he noticed.
But for once, he didn’t tease me.
“Olivia?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He studied me for another second before nodding.
“Then let’s go.”
⸻
The motorcycle was waiting outside.
I stopped several feet away from it.
It was beautiful.
Black, polished metal, a low growl coming from the engine when Logan started it.
And suddenly, this didn’t feel like a decision I had made in an office.
It felt real.
Very real.
Logan removed his helmet and walked toward me with another one in his hand.
He held it out.
I didn’t take it.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
“You agree?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say probably?”
“Because you’re going to spend the entire ride telling me I was wrong.”
“I probably will.”
He smiled.
“Put this on.”
I took the helmet.
My hands were slightly unsteady.
Logan noticed that too.
“Hey.”
I looked at him.
“You’re safe with me.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.
Not teasing.
Not smug.
Certain.
I nodded.
He waited while I put the helmet on.
Then he checked the strap beneath my chin.
His fingers brushed my jaw.
I froze.
He paused too.
For one suspended second, neither of us moved.
His eyes met mine.
And there it was again.
That unbearable awareness.
That same feeling from the night I had spent hours trying to forget.
He stepped back first.
“Ready?”
“No.”
His mouth curved.
“Good enough.”
He climbed onto the motorcycle.
Then he looked over his shoulder.
“Come on.”
I approached slowly.
I had never felt so ridiculous in my life.
I put one foot on the peg.
Then stopped.
“How do I get on?”
Logan laughed.
“Very carefully.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
He reached back and offered me his hand.
I took it.
His fingers closed around mine, firm and warm, and he helped me onto the seat behind him.
The moment I sat down, I realized just how close we were.
There was no polite distance.
No desk between us.
No office.
No professional excuse.
My chest was almost against his back.
I swallowed.
“Where do I put my hands?”
He looked over his shoulder.
“On me.”
“I figured that.”
“Then do it.”
I placed my hands carefully against his sides.
He glanced down.
“That’s not going to work.”
“Why?”
“Because when I start moving, you’ll fall.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
“I have balance.”
“Olivia.”
“What?”
“Hold on.”
I hesitated.
Then I wrapped my arms around his waist.
His body went still for half a second.
I felt it.
He felt it too.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.”
His voice was quieter when he answered.
“Yeah.”
The engine roared beneath us.
I tightened my arms instinctively.
Logan looked over his shoulder.
“You’re okay.”
“I know.”
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“Not very convincingly.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I closed my eyes.
The motorcycle moved.
I immediately tightened my hold.
Logan laughed softly.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The city began moving around us.
At first, I was terrified.
Every turn made me tense.
Every acceleration made my fingers tighten around his waist.
But slowly, the fear began to change.
The wind rushed past me.
The noise of the city faded beneath the engine.
And Logan’s presence became the only thing I was aware of.
His back against me.
His hands steady on the handlebars.
The movement beneath us.
The warmth of him.
I should have been thinking about Elena.
About Hayes.
About the missing eleven minutes.
Instead, my mind betrayed me again.
A different night.
A different road.
His voice close to my ear.
The feeling of being held.
I opened my eyes.
“Everything okay?” Logan called over the wind.
“Yes.”
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m concentrating.”
“On the road?”
I tightened my arms.
“Drive.”
His laugh vibrated through him.
And somehow, that made the memories worse.
⸻
When we finally stopped outside the warehouse, I didn’t move immediately.
My arms were still around him.
I realized it only when Logan turned his head.
“We’re here.”
I released him quickly.
“Right.”
I climbed off the motorcycle.
My legs felt strange.
Logan removed his helmet and looked at me.
“Well?”
I crossed my arms.
“I survived.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m not doing it again.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it.”
“You’re shaking.”
“Because my legs are numb.”
“Of course.”
He smiled.
I glared at him.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“Maybe.”
I turned toward the warehouse.
“Come on. We have work.”
Logan followed.
But as we walked inside, I caught myself glancing back at the motorcycle.
I hated that a small part of me already understood why he loved it.
And I hated even more that I had enjoyed being behind him.
Because the worst part wasn’t the motorcycle.
It was how natural it had felt to hold onto Logan.
And I had a feeling that was going to be much harder to forget.
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