Ride With Me

Chapter Nineteen

By the time everything had finally settled, a palpable exhaustion settled over the race meet, leaving nothing for Piper and Knox to do but pack up. The exhilarating chaos of the races had devolved into a somber, efficient dismantling of their temporary lives. Knox loaded his motorcycle onto the back of Diesel's truck with the same meticulous care he had used on hers, each strap secured, each bolt checked. Between the four men—Knox, Diesel, Felix, and Ben—the tents came down with practiced speed, sleeping bags were rolled, coolers emptied, and the scattered remains of the previous night's revelry were packed away, leaving the property strangely bare.

Piper stood nearby, her arms folded carefully across her chest, watching them work. The adrenaline had long since faded, leaving behind a symphony of aches and pains. Every inch of her left side protested the crash. Her shoulder, though thankfully the dislocation had been relatively minor, throbbed with a persistent ache. Her left thigh and hip, however, were another story. A dark, angry bruise was already spreading across her thigh, the coloring deepening beneath her skin like an ominous stain, while smaller, purplish constellations climbed along her hip and down toward her knee.

Her entire left side looked as though she had picked a fight with a concrete wall and spectacularly lost. The riding leathers, a second skin of tough, protective material, had saved her from far worse. Had she been wearing jeans instead of her riding gear, the asphalt would have chewed her leg apart. Still, she wasn't about to complain. She had walked away. That was enough.

Diesel climbed into the driver's seat of the truck, the engine rumbling to life, a familiar sound in the otherwise quiet landscape. Piper settled into the passenger seat, the worn upholstery a welcome comfort. Knox stood beside the truck, one hand resting on the door, his gaze fixed on her.

"I'm going with her," he stated, his voice firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

Diesel looked at him, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I figured."

Piper glanced between them, a small frown creasing her brow. "You don't have to."

"I know," Knox replied, his tone unwavering. He opened the passenger door wider, a silent invitation. "I'm still going."

There wasn't much room for argument in his tone, no space for discussion. Diesel sighed dramatically, a theatrical sound. "Fine. I'll swing back around and get you after the races."

Knox nodded, a curt acknowledgment. Diesel started the engine, then rolled down his window, the sound of the exhaust momentarily cutting through the quiet. "You sure you two are good?" he asked, his gaze moving between them, a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes.

"We're good," Knox answered before Piper could, his voice preempting her.

Diesel's gaze lingered, moving between them, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Yeah."

Piper narrowed her eyes, a spark of annoyance mixed with amusement. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, his grin widening. He shifted the truck into gear, the transmission engaging with a soft click. "Absolutely nothing."

The truck rolled away, kicking up a small cloud of dust as it disappeared down the road before Piper could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean. She watched him go, the sight of the truck diminishing in the distance, before turning her attention back to Knox. "Your friends are strange," she said jokingly, a soft laugh escaping her.

Diesel, from the now-distant truck, glanced back, his grin still in place. "You fit right in."

She laughed softly, the sound a little breathy. "That's becoming concerning."

The drive home was quiet. Not an uncomfortable silence, but a peaceful, companionable one. Piper watched the countryside pass beyond the window, the blur of green fields and distant trees a soothing balm. Her body was finally beginning to relax now that the adrenaline had left her system, leaving behind a dull, pervasive ache. Every so often, Knox glanced toward her, his eyes lingering briefly on her injured shoulder before returning to the road, a silent check, a subtle expression of his concern.

When they reached her house, the familiar silhouette of her childhood home was a welcome sight. They unloaded Piper's motorcycle first. Knox left his bike secured on the back of Diesel's truck, a silent testament to his commitment. Piper led him through the garage, pushing her bike inside and unlocking the interior door that led into the house. She dropped her keys and backpack onto the kitchen counter with a tired sigh, the weight of the past few days finally settling upon her. The house felt strangely peaceful after the chaos of the previous night, almost unnervingly so. Too peaceful. She glanced at Knox, a question in her eyes.

"Whiskey or bourbon?" she asked, her voice a little rough from disuse.

He looked at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. Piper laughed, a soft, genuine sound. "Whiskey."

His mouth twitched. She crossed to the liquor cabinet, its polished wood gleaming, and pulled out a bottle of her preferred brand. "How's your shoulder?" he asked, his gaze flicking to her arm.

"Sore, but good," she replied. She grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, their weight cool in her hand. "Luckily, it wasn't too bad. I think the bruises on my legs hurt more than the shoulder, to be honest."

Knox's eyes flicked downward, his gaze drawn to the angry, purplish expanse of the bruise on her thigh. "You should see the bruise on your left thigh."

"I have," she said, pouring the amber liquid into the glasses.

"It looks like someone beat you with a baseball bat," he observed, his voice low. Knox accepted the glass when she handed it to him, his fingers brushing hers. "The leather saved you from worse."

"I know," she agreed, taking a sip of the smooth, warming whiskey.

She added ice to both glasses before taking another deliberate drink. Knox sat on one of the stools beside the kitchen island, his posture relaxed but his gaze still attentive. "This is a nice place you have here," he commented, his eyes scanning the spacious, well-appointed kitchen.

Piper glanced around, a fond smile touching her lips. "My parents moved closer to my grandmother, so they left the place to me."

Knox nodded and took a drink, the ice clinking softly in the glass.

For a moment, neither said anything, the comfortable silence settling around them. Then, her phone rang, a jarring intrusion into the quiet. She sighed, the sound of its insistent trill coming from inside her purse on the counter. Piper pulled it out. Jackson. Of course. She stared at the name on the screen for a moment before decisively swiping to end the call. She set the phone back down.

It rang again. Piper closed her eyes, a groan escaping her. "You've got to be kidding me." She swiped it away again, her patience wearing thin. This time, she silenced the phone, the sudden quiet a welcome relief. The screen lit up a third time.

Knox glanced sideways, his gaze on the vibrating phone. "Persistent."

"Annoying," she corrected, her voice sharp with exasperation.

The phone continued to vibrate silently against the counter, a digital irritant. Knox took another drink, his gaze steady. "Is that the cheating ex-boyfriend?"

Piper looked away from the phone, her gaze drifting to the window, her expression unreadable. Then nodded. She lifted her glass to her lips, taking another sip of whiskey. "Unfortunately." The screen finally went dark. Silence returned, a fragile peace. Piper exhaled, a shaky breath of relief. "Thank God."

The phone lit up again. Knox stared at it, then at Piper, who was staring at it, taking a long, slow drink from her glass. Then, with a sudden, decisive movement, Knox reached across the counter and picked it up. He answered. "Hello?"

Piper nearly choked on her whiskey. She coughed violently, setting her glass down as the burn tore through her throat. Her eyes watered instantly, and she pressed a hand against her chest, trying desperately to drag air into her lungs. On the other end of the phone, Jackson immediately started shouting, his voice a distorted snarl. "Who the hell is this?"

Knox calmly held the phone away from his ear, his expression unreadable. "Where is Piper?" Jackson asked, his voice even and controlled.

He glanced at her, his gaze lingering on her flushed face, her watering eyes, her continued attempts to stifle her cough. A slow, wicked grin spread across Knox's face, a predator finding its prey. He lifted the phone toward her, not to hand it to her, but simply held it there, right beside her, the sound of Jackson’s furious voice now audible.

Piper's eyes widened in disbelief. She immediately shook her head, a frantic, silent plea. Knox's grin only grew, widening into a full-blown smile. "Go ahead," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

Piper couldn't speak. She was still trying to drag air into her lungs, her throat burning from the whiskey she had inhaled. She reached for the phone with her good hand, but Knox, his movements surprisingly quick, moved it just slightly out of reach. "Tell him you're busy."

Her eyes narrowed, a flash of indignation cutting through her distress. She slapped his arm, a weak, clumsy blow. Knox's shoulders shook with silent laughter. Jackson's voice came through the phone, more agitated now. "What the hell was that?"

Piper's eyes went even wider. She pointed furiously at Knox, still unable to get enough air to form a coherent sentence.

Knox was grinning like a man who had just discovered the greatest source of entertainment on earth. He held the phone closer to Piper again. "She's a little busy," he said into the phone, his voice smooth and deceptively casual.

Piper slapped his arm a second time.

Knox laughed under his breath, the sound a low rumble.

Jackson went silent at the other end of the line. Then— "Piper?"

Piper tried to answer, her throat raw and aching. Nothing came out except another breathless, strangled cough.

Knox looked at her, then at the phone, his grin becoming downright evil. "Sounds like she's having a good time," he murmured into the phone.

Piper's mouth fell open. She finally managed enough air to rasp, "Knox!" Jackson immediately exploded, his voice a furious roar. "What the f*ck is going on?"

Piper slapped Knox again.

He caught her wrist gently before she could do it a fourth time, laughing now, the sound unrestrained. Knox brought the phone back to his ear, his voice calm. "Someone's a little upset."

"Put Piper on the f*cking phone!" Jackson’s voice was a bellow.

Knox glanced at her, her face a mask of exasperation and amusement. She was glaring at him, still trying to soothe her burning throat. He smiled. Jackson started shouting again, his voice rising in pitch and volume. Knox simply hung up. He placed the phone back on the counter, his gaze returning to Piper.

Piper stared at him. For three full seconds, she said nothing, the silence stretching between them. Then she completely lost it. She doubled over, laughing so hard her injured shoulder protested, a sharp twinge of pain. "Oh my God," she gasped, trying to breathe. "You—" She tried to speak again. "You answered my phone."

"He kept calling," Knox stated simply, his gaze unwavering.

"You made it sound like—" She broke into another fit of laughter, her body shaking with the force of it.

Knox's mouth curved into a fond smile. "I didn't make it sound like anything."

Piper pointed accusingly at him, her eyes still streaming with tears of laughter. "You held the phone up to me while I was choking!"

"You were making interesting noises," he countered, his grin widening.

She stared at him, then burst out laughing again. "You are terrible."

"And yet you invited me in," he pointed out, his voice a low murmur.

She gasped, a mock affront. "That may have been a lapse in judgment."

"Seems to be a theme with you," he replied, his eyebrow lifting.

She gasped again. "Excuse me?"

Knox's eyes dropped briefly to the dark bruising along her left leg, a flicker of concern softening his gaze. "I'm kidding," he said quickly, seeing her expression.

Piper narrowed her eyes. "You're lucky you're pretty."

His eyebrow lifted again, a silent question. "Pretty?"

She immediately realized what she had said, her cheeks flushing. Knox's smile deepened. Piper took a very deliberate drink of her whiskey, her gaze fixed on the amber liquid. "I said nothing."

"You definitely said something."

"Nope."

"You called me pretty. I've never been called pretty before."

"I called the color of the whiskey pretty," she corrected, her voice firm.

Knox glanced at the bottle, then back at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Right." He laughed quietly.

And for the first time since the accident, since the adrenaline had worn off and the pain had set in, the heaviness in Piper's chest began to lift. She looked at the man sitting across from her, his knuckles still bruised from defending her, his motorcycle sitting in the back of a truck, his friends waiting to pick him up tonight, and her cheating ex apparently somewhere on the other end of a phone he had just answered without hesitation.

It was strange.

Ridiculous.

Unexpected.

And somehow, she was beginning to think she liked having him here.