Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

When Avery pulls up to the house on Sunday, I’m loading the bikes into the back of my truck.

She gets out looking a little bleary-eyed and tired, but gorgeous as always. White tank top, jeans, and she’s got a black beanie pulled down over her ears.

“I know you don’t really like coffee, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed,” she says as she steps forward and holds one out to me.

“Thanks.” I take it and drop a kiss on her lips.

She looks over the bikes in the back. “What time did you get back last night?”

“Not too late.” It was just after midnight when I got home from the freestyle event in California, so I am technically tired but I’m too excited about today to need caffeine to function.

“Do you want help unloading? I don’t know what I’m doing, but I can lift heavy things.”

I shake my head and smile at her assumption. “You can help unload when we get where we’re going.”

“Wait.” Her lips pull into a wide smile. “We’re riding?”

“Yep.” I finish strapping down the second bike.

Her smile falls into hesitation. “I don’t know how to ride.”

“Good thing I do.”

She tells me about her weekend while I drive and then we fall into a comfortable silence. It’s a nice feeling being with Avery. She’s as happy staring out the window and taking in the scenery as I am. And I think it’s because she doesn’t need or expect things from me in the way so many other people do in my life that I find myself wanting to know things about her.

“What part of Texas are you from?”

The window is down, letting in the cool morning air, and it whips her hair around her face. She tucks a strand back as she answers, “A small town just outside of Houston.”

“Do you miss it?”

“I miss my family, but other than that, not really. I feel bad, though. My brother sat through so many practices and meets for me and I don’t get to do the same for him.”

“Music, right?”

She beams at me. “That’s right. He started out playing piano, then guitar, and the last time I talked to him he was begging our parents for a drum set. My dad will make him ask for at least two months to make sure he really wants it, but they’ll give in eventually. They’ve always been really supportive of our hobbies.”

An ache fills my chest. What would it have been like to have that kind of family growing up? It’s not a line of thought I allow myself to go down very often. I had Mom and she did everything she could. Wishing things had been different feels like saying she wasn’t enough. And she was. She was everything.

When we get to the trail and I start unloading the bikes, Avery’s excitement morphs into a timid, almost fearful nervousness.

“This one is yours,” I say as I pat the black and pink dirt bike. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Some of that fear abates as she looks it over. “This is one of your bikes? I can’t believe Knox Holland owns something with pink on it.”

“I don’t. You do.”

She turns to face me, brows furrowing.

“I bought it for you,” I say, then shift uncomfortably because she looks stunned.

“You bought me a bike?”

“It’s not new or anything. I got it off Brooklyn and switched out some of the⁠—”

She cuts me off with a kiss and I don’t finish what I was going to say, or even remember it. Avery’s mouth is heaven.

“This is the nicest gift anyone has ever given me,” she says when she pulls back. “I absolutely love it, but I can’t accept this.”

“You have to. It’s a gift. And it wasn’t that much. I had most of the tools and parts on hand.”

She still looks hesitant to accept it.

“Wait until you see the rest of your gear.” I wink.

From the back seat I get all the clothes and gear. Pink and black, of course.

“Knox. Seriously, this is too much.”

“Nah, it’s just enough.”

I help her into the jacket. It’s black with just a touch of pink on the zipper. The pants match. The helmet is one of mine, but the goggles are all pink and so are the gloves.

“Do you like it? You probably won’t need the jacket once the sun comes up, but it’s cold riding in the morning.”

“I am never going to wear anything else,” she says as she pulls the pants up. They’re too big so she just wears her jeans, but everything else is perfect.

While she finishes getting ready, I grab my own gear.

That look of trepidation is back on her face when it’s time to go. But she looks so sexy in her black boots, jeans, riding jacket, helmet and goggles that it’s hard to concentrate on anything else.

“Good thing you have so many layers on right now.” I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose through her helmet before I put mine on.

“I look okay?”

“No. You look fucking hot.”

I sit on her bike to show her everything. She watches so keenly that I get a little thrill.

“Okay.” I scoot back and pat the seat. “Sit down and let’s go through it again.”

She does, placing her ass in my crotch, her blonde hair is tickling my face as the wind blows it around. I hold it back with one hand and lean over one shoulder. I can’t resist kissing her neck. I’ve never ridden double on a dirt bike. They’re really not meant for it, but I have the sudden urge to leave my bike here and let her ride me around.

I quiz her and do my best to pay attention to make sure she gets it right, but I am distracted.

“I think you got it. We’ll ride around here until you feel comfortable to hit the trail.”

She stands to get off the bike. The movement puts her ass right in my face and my hands move to it without thought.

She laughs and sticks it out farther. I swat one perky cheek. I’m going to be hard all day with her looking like she does in her riding gear.

And I’m not mad about it one bit.