And then Martinezstepped up to the plate and swung.
Strikeone.
Fuck.
Swing. Ballone.
Fuck! Comeon!
I was leaningforward as I watched the screen like a hawk, praying to GodMartinez would save me from some emotionaltorment.
Please, please, please!
Swing.
Homerun!
“FUCK YEAH!” I shouted as I watched the ball fly out of thearena, throwing my fists in the air and rising off my chair. “Ha!You get‘em,Martinez!”
And then Iinstantly sat back down and covered my mouth with myhands,peekingover atDarren. I expected fury and rage to come barreling at me, butinstead, I found the brightest smile on his face as he beamed atme.
“That was the most genuine happy emotion I have ever seen youdisplay since your time with me.”
A small bit ofrelief washed over me as I realized he wasn’t angry but was ratherenjoying my enthusiasm and excitement.
“Well, I don’t take small victories with you lightly,” I saidcautiously.
He laughed. “Isuppose you wouldn’t.”
“Okay, time to pay up.” I narrowed in on him. I was beyondexcited I had actually beaten him at something, even though it wasall by chance.
He rolled his eyesat me, unable to hold back his grin. “Okay, unlike you, I can admitwhen I’ve legitimately been beaten, but you do know eventually, Iwill get you to talk one way or another.”
“Maybe … but not tonight!” I smirked. I was too excited evento think about that right now.
Darren shook hishead at me and took my hand, leading me to a side door by thekitchen. He unlocked the door and total darkness greeted us. Untilhe turned the light on and my eyes sparkled like it was Christmasmorning.
The garage wasmassive—large enough to fit at least ten cars—but that wasn't whatstole my attention. Lined up on theright-handside inperfect order were six beautiful bikes, and I almost starteddrooling. My excitement seeped from my skin as I walked tentativelyover to the road machines.
“Oh,myGod,” Ibreathed.
He had a blackedout Ducati 1299 Panigale S, (the same fucking model as me!), abright green Kawasaki Ninja 300, a deep red Honda CBR1100XX T, aroyal blue Yamaha YZF-R1, and a gun metalgrayDucati Diavel Strada. He even had ablackHarley-DavidsonVRSCV-Rodand abright red Kawasaki KTM 450 SX-F dirt bike. Holy fuck. Someoneliked to go fast.
They were all sobeautiful. I could just imagine rolling on the throttle of thatPanigale and riding the fuck out of here.
I looked overatDarren,who wasregarding me closely, the hint of a smile lurking across hislips.
“Impressed yet?”
“Very,” I had to admit. “I see we have similar tastesinbikes,” Isaid, nodding over to the Panigale.
“Maybe one day, if you’re lucky, I’ll take you for aride.”
“Pfft,” I said, turning my back to him and crossing my arms.“I don’t ride bitch.” And then I instantly winced, my stomachdropping as I realized what I’d just said. I turned around andquickly backtracked. “I’m sorry.” My hands came out.“Habit.”
His face was notso forgiving, and he crooked a finger at me.Fuck.
I cautiouslywalked over to him, wrapping my arms around myself as I stoppedright in front of him and kept my eyesonhis chest, not really wanting to look upat him. I hated looking into his face when I knew I was in trouble,like a dog with its tail between its legs. His hand came down hardon my bare ass that still remained very vulnerable under his shirt,and I winced at the contact, almost yelping as my ass was stillsuper sore from my earlier transgression.
