Join Hazel and Wyatt Whyte as they relive their romance on a motorcycle, under an apple tree and beside a man-made swimming-hole.
The dust settled around the contraption as it roared to a halt at the end of Hazel Preston’s road. It was a huge hulk of black machinery that looked as dangerous as a panther on the prowl. It also held an allure that mesmerized Hazel like the man who straddled it.
Wyatt Whyte. The bad boy of Ela County. All muscle and tough-guy attitude. Heaven help her, he even had a tattoo of barbed wire wrapped around his right bicep.
To her daddy’s chagrin, Wyatt had taken a fancy to Hazel. And, glory be, Hazel liked it. Liked it a lot.
“Hop on Pretty Gal, let’s take this thing for a spin.” He reached for her hand.
She hung back and eyed the beast with apprehension. “Is it safe?”
“Safe as the rider who guides it,” he answered.
That didn’t make her feel a whole lot better, especially when she stared into dark brown eyes that smoldered with mystery and a hint of amusement. “Are you safe?” she ventured.
