As she drew closer, her senses were filled with his scent. The wind seemed to have carried away the smell of cigarettes, leaving only the clean scent of fresh air.
Whether intentionally or not, the motorcycle slowed down considerably. The shadows of the trees receded. Erin Lowell's last surgery of the night had been draining, and she had stayed up late. Once her nerves finally relaxed, drowsiness washed over her.
The wind rushing past her ears gradually softened. Her head nodded twice, and on the third dip, it came to rest against his broad back.
Zane Jennings instinctively tensed up. A flash of panic and uncertainty passed through him, and his grip on the handlebars tightened.
He had been smoking earlier, but there was no trace of it on him now. Zane Jennings had a scent that put her at ease.
