The Naked Truth by Leslie Morgan

Author:Leslie Morgan
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2019-05-21T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

But first, I had to fly to North Carolina for a domestic violence awareness police officer training course. And to have one of my two Chris Bailey dinners. I fell asleep on the plane and awoke as if from a fever dream. What was it going to be like to see him again?

I’d invited him to my luncheon keynote, and he showed up just before my speech, handsome and formal in his Marine uniform, sitting quietly and very still at the head table next to me. His eyes were as blue as I remembered. He watched me during my speech, listening to me explain the complex psychological reasons victims stay in abusive relationships. I was busy for thirty minutes after the luncheon, answering questions one-on-one. Chris slipped out, texting me afterward. Leslie—I’m honored you invited me. I enjoyed it very much. Pick you up at your hotel at 5?

Excited but not knowing what to expect, I came out of the air-conditioned Holiday Inn lobby into the Carolina twilight. I’d changed into jeans and cowboy boots. Wearing a blue shirt that made his eyes stand out, Chris stood under the portico holding two helmets. Next to him leaned a gleaming red and black Harley-Davidson Road King.

“Evening,” he said. He paused, as if about to add ma’am.

“Nice bike,” I answered. “And thanks for coming today, Chris. I’m looking forward to the ride. And dinner.”

I climbed onto the bike behind him and laced my arms around his waist. His abs were hard as molded plastic. His back muscles felt as thick as a horse’s. His neck smelled of Dial soap. Chris revved the motor, and the Harley made the pavement feel like glass as we glided out of the parking lot onto a winding Carolina blacktop. For thirty minutes, Chris steered the bike past farmland. The road dipped and rose on gentle hills as the grassy fields changed into thick Carolina pines. The air cooled as the sun set and night fell. I breathed in the smell of fresh-cut grass and Chris’s shoulder blades.

Chris slowed the bike at a low-slung roadside restaurant with swinging wooden-slat doors. We sat at a booth inside, near the doors. Conversation came easily. We talked of his family in Augusta. His efforts to teach his teenaged daughter to shoot squirrels. His days training in Hawaii and Fort Benning. The road trip to Niagara Falls he wanted to take on the Harley.

“You can stop for a night in Philly,” I said, smiling. Chris smiled back at me, his eyes lighting up. “Or two.”

For the ride home, he played a country mix on the Harley’s stereo. Outside the hotel entrance, I handed him back his helmet. I shook my hair. We stood looking at each other, not saying a word. It felt like a scene in a romantic movie.

“Can I kiss you, Leslie?” Chris asked. Again, I felt like he had to stop himself from saying ma’am. I laughed.

“Of course.”

His lips were warm and soft, like his hand had felt when he shook mine back in the Philadelphia Airport.

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