“What the hell was the urgency?” Derek asks, digging the keys to the garage out of his pocket.
It’s seven thirty in the morning, and it took me twenty minutes of begging and some added bribery to get him out of bed to meet me here.
“I want to go riding today. Seeing my bike yesterday gave me the bug. You know how it is.”
He grins. “Yeah, I know how it is.” He checks the blue sky and rolls up the garage door. “Looks like it’s going to be a good day for it. Want some company?”
“No thanks. I already have some people I met online that I’m going to ride with.” The lies are starting to come easily these days.
“Give me your car keys.” He holds out his hand, and I drop them into his palm. He gets in my car and backs it up to the aluminum trailer they use for hauling their bikes to events.
Once it's hitched up, I push my bike onto the back, and we secure it down with straps.
“You’re gonna need to stop and fill up. We drained the tank when we hauled it out here,” Derek advises and goes and gets my old helmet off a shelf next to theirs, then follows me to the driver’s door of my car.
Taking the helmet and tossing it in the backseat, I turn and give him a hug. “Thanks for getting out of bed for me.”
He gives me a wink. “Don’t forget you owe me a tin of chocolate chip cookies.”
“I won’t.” I slip behind the wheel, and he shuts the door.
“Be safe out there, okay?”
“Always.” I pull out, checking the trailer in my rearview mirror. It’s been years, but seeing my bike behind me takes me right back to the last time I raced, and I can’t help the happiness and excitement I feel.
When I pull into the alley behind the bar, Sully is leaning against a pickup truck with a dirt bike loaded up in the back of a trailer .
He’s not wearing his cut this time.
There’s another guy standing near a Harley.
I stop behind them and get out, grabbing my helmet from the backseat as he straightens.
“This your truck?” I ask, approaching.
“Nope. Borrowed it from a brother.”
“Where’d you get the bike?” My eyes trail over the motocross bike on the trailer.
“Borrowed that, too.”
“You’ve got brothers who ride motocross?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Then where…?”
He bops my nose with the tip of his index finger. “I’ve got my ways. You ready?” His eyes sweep over my outfit.
I’m wearing the riding clothes I used to ride in. The shirt used to be loose, but now my chest mostly fills it out.
“I remember those.” He gestures to the neon green and white shirt and pants. “They still fit.” His gaze trails over my hips.
“Sort of. I probably need to get a new set.”
He focuses on my boobs and grins. “Yeah, maybe.”
I slap his arm. “Stop it.”
