Five minutes later, I left my room dressed in another heavy sweater and a pair of skinny jeans.
Nathan was in the process of taking a sip of coffee when I entered the living room. He froze with the cup halfway to his lips, studying me intensely.
"What?" I asked, doing a quick check to make sure my zipper was up and that my hair wasn't suddenly standing on end.
He didn't answer, but instead walked over to where I stood.
"You didn't say where we were going, so I figured casual was the best route…" I trailed off as he cupped a hand around my neck and dragged my mouth to his. I opened my mouth to his demands, not sure what the kiss meant. If it was possible, the kiss felt different than the others we had shared. It felt raw and almost primal as he assaulted my mouth. My body's response was quick and instantaneous.
"What was that?" I asked when he finally pulled back, breathing heavily.
"That was my way of telling you that you look positively edible dressed like that."
"Not that I'm complaining, but you've seen me in jeans and a sweater before," I pointed out.
"Not with your hair pulled up and glistening lips that would tempt anyone to sample them," he said.
"It's just a messy bun," I practically purred as his lips moved to my ear, making goose bumps pop up on my arms.
"Trust me, it's hot as hell," he said.
"Well, I'm glad you like it, and thanks for getting me all hot and bothered now too with your assault on my mouth," I said as he stepped up behind me.
"Say it again," he whispered in my ear, wrapping his arms around my stomach to pull me flush against him.
"I'm glad you like it?" I asked, smiling at him through the mirror.
"What? No. Got you all hot and bothered," he clarified.
"You need an ego stroke?" I teased.
"It strokes something, sweetheart, just not my ego," he stated. "Which, at the moment, will have to be put on hold because I have plans for us."
"Am I dressed warm enough?"
"Yeah, it doesn't feel nearly as cold as it was yesterday. All the locals I talked with today claim this is the last warm day before winter sneaks in. I guess a cold front is moving in this evening, and after that, summer and even fall will be forgotten. I'm not entirely sure how they can be so adamant about it, but I guess if you've lived here all your life, you'd know the weather better than a couple Southerners. I figured we better seize the opportunity while we had it," he said, guiding me out the front door.
The sun was shining bright when we stepped outside. I relished the warmth of it, and after the bone chilling rain from the previous evening, the heat felt heavenly. There was still a slight breeze, but it didn't cut through you like yesterday. These were the days we lived for back home, but they were far and few between. Humidity and heat indexes made up eighty percent of the climate in Florida.
"So what do you think?" he asked, indicating the rack with two mountain bikes strapped to the back of his Range Rover.
"We're going on a bike ride?" I whispered, slowly walking toward the mounted bicycles. I was confused how he had figured out another kink in my armor. It could just be a coincidence. No one here knew about the last bike ride I had ever taken. It was the one memory that belonged to me alone.
"I know you have that whole 'no exercise' thing going on, but I figured a leisurely bike ride wouldn't fall under that rule?" he asked, looking uncertain. "I just thought it would be funny after all the joking if we really did take a bike ride together," he added with a crooked grin.
"It's fine. It's just been a long time since I've ridden a bike," I said as memories of my last bike ride assaulted my senses. Pictures filled my head of my mom and me peddling our pink-and-purple beach cruisers. She looked breathtakingly beautiful. It was a Sunday ritual for us to ride our bikes to the beach. We'd wheel them down the wooden steps to the sand below and ride along the water's edge while the wind blew through our hair. Afterward, we would stop at the ice cream stand near the peer. We'd both get chocolate cones dipped in cherry hard shell. The memories were poignant, which is why I rarely visited them. Most of the time they were just too painful.
"Hey, you okay?" Nathan asked, dragging me away from my memories.
"Sure," I answered, pasting a smile on my face.
"When your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, I know you're just feeding me a line," he remarked, studying me intently.
"Really, it's nothing," I managed to say, although I was unsettled by his intensity and uncanny knack of being able to read me so well.
"I wish you would trust me," he muttered, opening the vehicle door for me.
"There's nothing to trust. I'm not hiding anything," I said, climbing in.