Ride with Me

Taryn was probably wrong. Lexie was probably married.

But some part of him, some compulsive part that tortured him with thoughts of Lexie every freaking second, demanded that he find out.

So he stopped riding at Yellowstone, found a campsite, and waited. He rode in slow loops around the park, passing through one campground after another and looking for her absurd little tent. Even the campgrounds where he knew she wouldn’t be. Even when he knew it was too early to expect her. He couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t sit still.

On the third afternoon, he arrived back at his campsite to find her tent pitched a few sites down from his. It had the same little U.S. flag attached to the fly, so it had to be Lexie’s. But she wasn’t alone. There was another tent next to hers, apparently the property of the blond guy in bike shorts sitting at the adjoining picnic table. The guy who was waving him over with a lazy grin.

“Hey, are you doing the TransAm? Us, too. Want a granola bar or something? You should stay and hang out for a little bit. Lexie loves to meet other riders.”

Tom’s bike was moving so slowly at this point, he had to stop or fall over, so he put a foot down. And then he just stared at the guy, wondering who the hell he was and what had happened to Paul.

And what was with the “us”? Because that “us” was too comfortable for Tom’s taste. A good bit too comfortable.

“Where is she?”

“Who, Lexie? She’s taking a shower. What, you know her or something?”

Was it his imagination, or was Blondie kind of a bonehead? Surely he wasn’t Lexie’s type.

“Yeah, I know her. What happened to Paul?”

“Who’s Paul?”

Maybe it had been a mistake to leave her in Paul’s hands. He probably should have guessed she’d be too stubborn to stick with him. But he hadn’t, and now she was with this guy. This guy he loathed, even though he’d only known him for half a minute.

“Doesn’t matter. We were riding together a while back.”

“Cool,” Blondie said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Lance.”

“Tom.” He got off his bike and took the hand, pleased to find he could outshake the little prick any day of the week. He had a good forty pounds on him, too. Not that it was going to matter, but still, nice to know.

“So, what, you guys spent a day or two riding together earlier on the route?”

“About three weeks. From Oregon.”

“Oh, you’re that guy. She mentioned you.” Lance no longer looked quite so happy to meet him.

Tom wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Lexie had said about him, but at least she’d said something.

Lance frowned. “Are you looking to ride with her again? Because if you are, that’s fine—you know, the more the merrier—but I just want you to know that she’s taken.”

Tom’s stomach did a slow roll, and he had to shove both hands in his pockets and will himself not to punch the little bastard. Not until he found out if he was telling the truth. Not until he found out if Lexie actually liked him.

“You sleeping with her?” He had to grind the question out between his teeth, since he’d lost the ability to move his jaw.

Lance grinned, and Tom dug his fingernails into his palms hard enough to leave marks. “Not yet, man, but I have a bottle

of wine and a plan. Tonight is the night. I’ve been waiting to hit that since Hamilton, but the anticipation makes it sweeter, you know?”

He had to move then or kill him. One or the other. So he crossed to the other end of the campsite and paced back and forth over the powdery dirt until he could breathe evenly again. “She tell you she’s married?”

The grin faded. “No, she said she was single. Is she married, for real?”

The last of Tom’s hope died then. Taryn had been right. Lexie wasn’t married. And that meant if Lexie had wanted him, she would have told him the truth.

Instead, she’d told Lance.

The thought of her with this asshole made him wretched, but if he was Lexie’s choice, Tom had no right to stand in her way.