15. #2
“It’s very much a yes, but I do want to call Dawson.
” I pulled my phone out and hit the speed dial button for Dawson.
I put it on speaker right before he answered by saying, “It was just a small fire, and I managed to put it out before I locked the kids in the basement with a bucket of live snakes.”
“Glad to hear it’s all working out,” I joked.
“They’re fine, Court. We’re all fine.”
“I know, but I still had to check.”
“I’m glad you called now, though, because they’re delivering the keg in half an hour and the strippers should be here any minute.”
“You’re kind of a smartass, young man.”
“Obviously, it’s genetic. Have fun, and don’t come home until lunch tomorrow or you’re grounded.”
“To my room? All alone? Hell yes!”
“Have fun, Court. Love you.”
“Love you ,too, Daw. Call me if you need anything.”
I put my phone back in my pocket and smiled at Zane before I said, “Looks like I’m all yours until lunch tomorrow.”
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time.” Once we got comfortable on the motorcycle, Zane drove us around town for a while. While we were stopped at a light, he asked, “Are you ready to go to my place?”
“Yes!”
Zane laughed and then took a right, and I thought about how relaxing it was to be here with him.
Riding the motorcycle was exhilarating but calming at the same time.
I didn’t have to make small talk or listen to kids chattering in the back seat.
I could just take in the surrounding scenery while I enjoyed the wind on my face.
Occasionally, when we hit a straight stretch of road or stopped for some reason, Zane would rest his arm on my knee and rub his hand back and forth over my calf, which felt intimate even over my jeans. It somehow felt territorial and comforting at the same time.
I liked it.
When we pulled up in front of Zane’s, he kept the bike on as he pulled a remote out of a leather pouch attached to the .
. . dashboard area. I wasn’t exactly sure what that part of the motorcycle was called.
If Zane and I ended up together, which it seemed like we would, I was going to have to do some research so I didn’t sound like an idiot.
This whole motorcycle and biker thing had jerked me so far out of my comfort zone that I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.
But it sure was fun.
Once the garage door was open, Zane pulled inside and parked between another motorcycle and his truck.
Once I was standing next to his bike, I looked around and saw a very organized working garage.
There was an old car in the third section of the garage that had its hood up with tools resting on a bench nearby.
Shelves held household supplies like toilet paper and paper towels and bins that were clearly labeled.
There was a refrigerator beneath the shelves that was covered in stickers and magnets.
I assumed that was probably his beer fridge, which completed the ideal working garage, or at least what I’d always thought of as the ideal.
Once Zane was off the motorcycle, he took my hand and said, “Let me show you around.”
He led me through the door into the house as the garage door closed behind us.
Once we were inside, I saw that we were in the laundry room with new appliances on one side and a bench on the other.
Zane sat down and took his boots off before he slid them under the bench.
When I started to take my shoes off, he said, “You don’t have to do that.
I just take mine off because they’re usually covered in oil and whatever else I got into that day.
When I come home from work, I strip down here and put my clothes in the wash.
Otherwise, I’ll forget and stain the couch. ”
“The trials and tribulations of a working man,” I said with a grin.
“Yeah. Something like that. My dad always did the same thing because he worked at our garage.”
I went ahead and kicked my shoes off and then followed Zane through the doorway into the kitchen. Just like the laundry room, the appliances were all shiny and new, but this room had so much counter space that I had to stop and marvel at it in awe. There was no way not to be envious.
The island that separated the kitchen from the living room was lined with stools and had a sink and two-burner grill as well as a large wooden cutting board that looked like a work of art. When I ran my hand over it, Zane said, “Bear, Officer Dumont’s dad, gave that to me as a housewarming gift.”
“It’s almost too beautiful to use.”
“He’d be angry if I didn’t,” Zane assured me with a laugh. “So, this is the kitchen, and that’s the living room. The main bedroom is down that hallway, there are two bedrooms to the left, and then two more upstairs.”
“Good grief! And you live here alone?”
“Yeah. To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I went upstairs. One of the spare rooms down here serves as my office, and the other one is my home gym.”
“I’ve got house envy.”
“It doesn’t have the personality and charm that your house does, though. Yours looks like a magical cottage in the woods somewhere.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah! The roses all over it are gorgeous, and all those plants in the yard make it seem otherworldly.”
“Those roses are probably the only thing holding up that side of the house. I got an estimate to see what it would take to pull them down and make repairs to the bricks, and it was so high that it made me lightheaded.”
“Why would you want to pull them down?”
“I’ll show you why the next time you’re over.”
There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before Zane asked, “Do you want something to drink?” He looked over at me and said, “You can put your bowling bag on the counter. I think it will support the weight of it.” I chuckled as I set my purse down with a loud thump, and Zane burst out laughing before he said, “One of these days, I’m going to make you dump that thing out and prove there aren’t bricks in the bottom. ”
“Hell, there could be. It’s been a while since I saw the bottom.”
Zane opened the refrigerator and handed me a bottle of water before he opened his own and took a long drink. After he’d emptied almost half the bottle, he asked, “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
Without thinking, I blurted out, “No. I’d like you to show me your bedroom so we can do all the things I’ve been dreaming about since the first time I met you.”
“Fuck yeah!” Zane said as he set his bottle of water on the counter. Before I could say another word, he swept me up in his arms and began walking toward his bedroom.
And just like that, I let go of my worries and the constant barrage of things that usually kept my mind going a million miles an hour and allowed myself to get swept up in the moment.
It felt wonderful.