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Watching him inspect his ride for any little scratch in the paint was pretty sweet.
His bike had been tucked up safe and sound in the cargo hold of the airplane we’d flown on.
Which, in my mind, was far safer than the highway.
“Then, you know I touch you with reverence,” he informed me, his tone as teasing as mine was, but there was a semblance of truth to the words that made my heart twinge and prompted me to leave him alone as he checked his ride over.
The red-eye to Jersey hadn’t been painful. Digger had to blow too much money on getting his bike, sorry,hog, prepared for being flown freight, but on the plane, it had been nice to just sit there and talk. Side by side. Instead of shouting over his shoulder and ingesting too many calories from bugs I accidentally swallowed.
Then, of course, I’d thought about my conversation with Sarah.
Unfortunately, he’d been right about me getting embarrassed when the Plan B triggered a period, or I might have even asked him to join the mile-high club to take my mind off things at home.
“Why are you pouting?”
Though I jerked in surprise, my pout twisted into a sheepish smile. “I was just thinking.”
“What about? No, I won’t fuck you on my hog. Before you ask, I mean.”
I gaped at him. “That’s possible?”
He groaned under his breath. “I should have kept my fucking mouth shut.”
“You should’ve,” I agreed, especially when I’d been thinking of sex on another mode of transportation. “But, how do you do that without… dying?”
“You’re not that much of an adrenaline junkie, MC.”
Somewhere over Chicago, he’d started abbreviating my already abbreviated nickname to MC.
I liked it.
It was far superior to Mary Catherine.
“Maybe I am,” I grumbled. “You don’t know I’m not.” Then, I squinted at him. “Have you done it before?”
Lips twitching as he stopped polishing the body, the part that had a fire ombré on it, he mused, “Jealousy looks good on you, baby girl.”
I huffed. “I’m not jealous. I’m curious.”
“Just you watch that curiosity doesn’t kill the MaryCat, hmm?” he chided, but he strode over to me and cupped my chin. “You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. I’m not a choir boy, MC.”
“I don’t want you to be a choir boy.”
His gaze pierced me with his intensity. For whatever reason, my words or tone supplied me with an answer. “I haven’t done it on my hog. But I know someone who has and he only did it because he has a death wish.”
I blinked. “A brother?”
He grunted. “Name’s Nyx.”
“Nyx? Like the makeup?”
Digger’s mouth twitched. “It’s a makeup brand?”
“I mean, yeah? They do the best lipstick.”
He scraped a hand over his jaw. “I’ll have to tell him that when he’s back.” With amusement still lighting up those gorgeous brown eyes of his, he returned to his hog and then, in short order, declared, “Okay, we can go.”
“Any injuries?”
