Geared For The Grave (A Cycle Path Mystery) - Plot & Excerpts
Sutter ordered. “Where’s the seat belt?” In answer, Sutter took off, and I grabbed for the only thing available . . . him! I flung my arms around his middle, my boobs rubbing up and down against his back, my butt smacking against horse butt, jarring every bone in my body. “I just bit my darn tongue back here. Slow down.” “I’m not going fast. Feel the rhythm of the horse,” Sutter yelled. “What rhythm? Ya’ think this is Arthur Murray, and watch that tree, there’s a kid up ahead and you’re too close to the edge of the road and you took that corner too fast and I’m sliding off this thing.” And how did Sutter get to be so blasted ripped for a guy over forty! Didn’t guys go to pot after forty? Where was the beer gut? Sutter pulled to a stop, pried my arms from around his chest and looked back at me. “Dear God, are we there yet?”
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