He felt Leo’s laughter throughout his whole body. “No. I can see you’re a motorcycle aficionado.”
“Well, excuse me. I’m just trying to make conversation. Of course I’m not. I’ve never been on one before the other night.” Offended, Morgan decided to shut up. This would be the last time he wasted his energy on being nice to Leo.
They rode in silence until the next red traffic light. “It’s a Ducati. I bought it off Peter. He runs a garage. Some dude busted it up in an accident and didn’t have the money to pay for repairs, so Peter bought it from him cheap. It was already pretty old, but he and I worked on it. It’s in decent shape now.”
Mollified that Leo had taken the time to explain, Morgan felt his annoyance dissipate.
Not long after, they stopped in front of a small two-story home with a riot of flowers cascading from planters at the front windows. A tall tree threw shade over the house, and when they opened the gate, the smell of food and the sound of music and children laughing reminded Morgan of his childhood and all the weekend parties his parents had in their backyard.
“This way. You should meet Peter and Marla first.” Leo walked away, and Morgan hurried after him.
An imposing man with a short black beard stood holding two young boys, one in each arm, like they weighed nothing. Next to him was a woman around Morgan’s age. Her long, thick, brown hair was twisted in a messy bun, and her big brown eyes looked kind. When she caught sight of Leo, her face broke out in a huge smile.
“You came. I told Peter, ‘I bet Leo bails on us,’ and I was planning on coming over to your place and dragging you over here.”
“I wouldn’t dare disappoint you, Marla, because I know you’re telling the truth. Peter, no lie, man, your wife is a force. I’m more afraid of her than you.”
Peter kissed the top of her head, and the love in his eyes was unmistakable. “She’s my life force. Now, are you going to at least try and pretend you have some manners and introduce us?” He directed a friendly smile at Morgan, who returned it automatically, feeling a connection with these people even though they were strangers.
“It wouldn’t matter. Leo has none, especially when it comes to me. Hi, I’m Morgan Cantrell. Thanks for inviting me to your home.” He held out the bouquet of flowers to Marla, whose smile beamed even brighter.
“Morgan. You are so sweet. I love them. Thank you.” Impulsively, she leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Don’t pay attention to Leo. He’s really a pussycat.”
A pussycat? Morgan doubted that. More like a lion, and Morgan was waiting to see if he’d survive Leo’s roar.
