them, Red realized she’d made a huge mistake. The rider wasn’t going to be the first to flinch.
As much as she hated to admit it, there was a big difference between courage and stupidity. A mere second before impact, Red made a hard turn. She let out a yelp as her tires lost traction on the wet grass. Her motorcycle fell on its side and slid a dozen yards before coming to a stop.
“That stupid crazy jerk is so going to get it,” she said.
In a whirlwind of anger, Red stumbled to her feet. The sight of her favorite dress caked in mud was enough to make her growl . She’d saved up for six months to buy the outfit, and now it was ruined. She wanted to give the rider what she considered a well-deserved kick in the butt, but figured a guy unhinged enough to pull such a crazy stunt wasn’t somebody to scuffle with.
Red watched with a mix of nervousness and irritation as the rider rolled to a stop nearby. He turned off his engine and shoved down the kickstand with his boot. She tried to get a look at his face as he pulled off his helmet and used his black shirt to wipe the mess of berries away from his visor, but he had an innate ability to keep his identity concealed in the shadows.
“Would you just drop the mysterious man routine already?” Red shouted.
The rider slammed down his helmet on the seat of his motorcycle. He stood looking at the ground for a tense moment, likely trying to calm himself. As he strutted over toward Red, he cracked his neck from one side to the other. Red stood up straight and did her best to look fearless. When his face finally came into the light, she was surprised to find he was just about the same age as her.
“Oh my!”
Red felt a bit lightheaded as she fought the urge to swoon. The rider’s long brown hair waved in the wind over his handsome face. A scar ran from below his left eye, all the way down the length of his cheek, giving him a rough and tough edge. His eyes appeared to be copper-colored, though it was hard to tell for sure in the pale moonlight.
“You okay there, Little Red?” The rider had a deep, scratchy voice.
Red gave him a suspicious glare. “How do you know my name?”
The rider cracked a grin and pointed to her long red hair. “I didn’t, until you just told me.”
Red grabbed a lock of her hair. “Oh, you called me ‘red’ because …” She stopped herself short, both annoyed and embarrassed.
He took a step closer. “So tell me, Little Red, where are you headed so late in the night?”
“Not your business, Wolf Boy.”
The rider gave Red an odd look. “Why do you keep calling me that ?”
“I don’t know.” The way the rider glared at Red made her feel oddly uneasy. “Maybe because of the way you were howling earlier, Wolf Boy.”
“Did it frighten you, Little Red?”
“Bored now.”
“Are you?”
“Totally. So why don’t you get back on your big, bad bike and get lost already.”
Red turned her back on the rider and walked over to her fallen motorcycle. As she strained to pull it up onto its wheels, she could feel him watching her every move. It took all her willpower to resist the urge to look at him. There was no denying that she was smitten by him and she didn’t like it one bit.
“So you got anything yummy in your goody basket, Little Red?” the rider asked.
Red grumbled in irritation. “What are you going on about, Wolf Boy?”
The rider reached down and tried to open the basket tied to the back of Red’s motorcycle, but she smacked his hand away.
“Never without my permission, Wolf Boy.”
“Whatever you say, Little Red.” The rider gave Red a smug grin as he backed away.
“Look, buddy, if you’re going to hang around acting all creepy stalker-like, the least you could do is help me get my poor little man out of the dirt,” Red said.
“You don’t need my help. You should be plenty strong enough to pick up that tiny trike.”
“Don’t push me, Wolf Boy.” Red pulled and pulled on her motorcycle with