“You’re pretty funny for a biker.”
“Met a lot of us, have you?”
“Enough,” I replied. “I’m sorry that I called you a drifter. That was rude of me.”
“Forgiven. Now, let’s sit you up nice and slow.”
Snarl sat me up, his huge arm fully supporting me. That’s when I caught his scent. Despite his rugged exterior, he smelled amazing. A mixture of leather, sandalwood and theunmistakable scent of vanilla pipe tobacco.
“Do you smoke a pipe?”
“Only on special occasions,” he replied, looking shocked. “But I keep one with me at all times here inside my cut. How did you—”
“My grandfather. Granny’s first husband. He smoked a pipe. Whatever tobacco it is you smoke smells like the one he used.”
“You’ve got a good nose on you,” Snarl said, handing me the glass of juice.
“Something I get from Granny,” I said, taking a sip.
“Maybe that’s why she took a shine to me,” Snarl chuckled. “Because I smell like her late husband.”
“He was a sweet guy, and he loved Granny.”
“I would have liked to have met the man in person.”
I laughed. “Oh, Grandpa would not have approved of Granny consorting with bikers.”
“Biker,” Snarl corrected. “I’m the only biker I know of who Shirley socializes with.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re a nomad. Whatever that means,” I teased, biting into one of Granny’s cookies.
“Pretty simple, really. Being a nomad means I’m in a club, but I’m not pinned down to any specific charter.”
“That clears up everything, thank you.”
“Shirley told me you study animals, right?”
I nodded. “That was both harshly simplistic as well as painfully accurate. Especially given what I did earliertoday.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
“No, please go on. I study the social behavioral patterns of endangered species, yes.”
“Perfect! Just think of me as a lone wolf.”
“Bad idea. Not a sign of strength,” I said.
“What? What do you mean? Of course it is. You study animals and you’ve never heard of a lone wolf?”
“I never said I haven’t heard of them, just that they don’t really exist in the way that guys like you think they do.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Granny called out from the next room.
“We’re discussing Schrodinger’slone wolf,” Snarl replied. “Does he or doesn’t he exist?”
I laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about. I think it’s safe to say your average biker doesn’t throw around references to Erwin Schrodinger.”
“They might if they were trying to impress an intelligent and beautiful woman.”
