When Ariana hadn’t heard a single word from her family or the hospital the following morning, she assumed her mother was too angry to call and that none of the other medical professionals involved felt she deserved the consideration. Frustrated and unsure of how to spend her day off, she flopped back on the couch and called the hospital, hoping to get someone who would tell her something.
But after sitting on hold for several minutes, she gave up. She growled in frustration, and she grabbed the phone, dialing the only person she thought might be able to help her. Sal picked up on the third ring. “Hey, pretty lady. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
A reluctant smile crossed Ariana’s lips. “I don’t think you’ll find it so pleasurable if I answer that question.”
“Try me,” he taunted.
“My father’s in the hospital. I had him taken in yesterday, and my mother and probably my sister are there with him. There’s no way I’m going up there to check in on him, but I can’t get anyone to tell me if they’ve found out what’s wrong.” She sighed. “I don’t want to bother you on our day off, but people up there listen to you. They respect you. Maybe you could get some intel for me.”
“I’m sorry, Ariana. That’s got to be hard. Do you have any idea what’s wrong with him?”
“Other than the fact that he was drunk at nine in the morning?” she laughed. “Well, he’s probably in detox right now and cranky as hell. Aside from that, I have a gut feeling the drinking has burned up his liver. But like I said, no one told me anything.”
“You’re probably right.” Sal mumbled something under his breath. “You’ll owe me, but because we’re friends and you deserve to know about your own family, I’ll find out.”
“Consider it an IOU. Thank you, Sal.” She hung up and stared at the ceiling. More than anything, Ariana hated being bored. You should be studying. But she didn’t have the patience or the attention span for it. And if she stayed here all day, she would spend her time thinking about Vince. That wasn’t going to fly.
Of course, just his name floating through her head gave her an idea. It wasn’t her usual pastime, but it would keep her busy while she waited to hear back from Sal. Eagerly, she got off the couch and headed to the shower. She dressed quickly, slung her wet hair into a clip, and grabbed her keys.
The nearest motorcycle shop was a ten minute drive, and when she got there, she sat in her car for a long time, watching the variety of people filtering in and out of the store. There were dozens of bright, shiny bikes, lined up in perfectly even rows with sunlight glinting off the chrome and polished black paint. She’d never understood the obsession with motorcycles. She’d never been on one in her life, and she didn’t think she ever wanted to.
At the same time, Vince was just like so many of these people. They perused the inventory and touched the bikes reverently. It was almost a cult-like worship. To her, they were as terrifying as an angry bull at the rodeo, and she couldn’t comprehend the intense love for the beasts. But unless she could figure it out, she would never know what made Vince tick, why he felt so loyal to the club, or why he rode on two wheels instead of four.
Ariana stepped out of the car and walked through the lines of bikes outside, trying to get a feel for them. She tried to absorb the positive, enthusiastic energy of the shoppers and admirers. But nothing struck her. She turned to leave, but she looked back to the shop and decided to see what was inside. There were more bikes and lots of gear. Maybe something in there would catch her eye.
She browsed the shelves and racks, enjoying the feel of the leather jackets beneath her fingers and reading the sarcastic and lewd comments on some of the shirts. She thought several of the helmets were pretty while others were just silly. Still finding no tingling sensation within her, Ariana returned to the motorcycles inside the shop, considering them more carefully. She read the information on a couple of them, details about the size of the engines, speed, fuel mileage, and prices.
As she came up on the next one, she admired it. No, it didn’t give her a sense of excitement, and she didn’t feel an instant connection. But it was a beautiful piece of equipment, painted a solid shiny black with electric blue lightning bolts on either side of the tank. It was covered in chrome – handlebars, wheels, décor – and it looked fierce and classy, all at the same time.
“Who would have thought I’d find you here?” The voice made Ariana jump, and she stared straight into Vince’s incredible eyes. He smiled, full of charm. “I thought you had a serious vendetta against motorcycle clubs. You never told me you had a secret love affair with their rides.”
Embarrassed to be caught here, Ariana rolled her eyes. “I don’t. I just… ” She trailed off, not wanting to explain her reason for coming here today.
He chuckled. “It’s alright, Ariana. You can admit it. Lots of people have strange fetishes they don’t feel comfortable talking about. And a lot of them hide behind the guise of hatred for it. I see the way you’re staring at that machine.” He pointed to the bike she’d been checking out. “I guess the real surprise here is that you have impeccable taste. In fact, I might just have to ask you to take your hands off my ride.”
“I have as much right to be here as anyone else,” she countered. Why did he always make her feel defensive? “And I don’t have a fetish. I just wanted to see if I could understand the passion people feel for these death machines.” She glared at him. “So tell me, smartass. Tell me why you love bikes so much. Explain it to me so I can understand.”
Vince stared at Ariana, taken aback. He’d been teasing her, but now she was adamant – and almost passionate – about wanting to understand what was so special about riding. That only added to the shock of seeing her admiring that particular ride. She probably hadn’t realized that the four bikes in front of her were here inside because they were sold and customized. “Okay, but first, let me ask you something.” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you not see the ‘sold’ sticker on that one?”
She frowned and checked it, blushing. “It’s not like I was going to buy it.”
“You’re damn straight you’re not, because I already did.” Her expression was the epitome of surprise, and he laughed. “You honestly thought I was joking about that? Come on, I had to replace the one you saw in a pile on the road beside me. I had some work done to this one yesterday—a few personalized details added—and now I’m here to take her home.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute, then she finally smiled. “I don’t like bikes as a whole, but this one caught my eye because it’s pretty. Not in a feminine way. I wouldn’t want to insult your manhood. But I think it’s a beautiful design.”
“I’m glad you approve of my taste.” He closed his eyes and thought about the sensation he got from riding. “The reason people literally become addicted to riding is because it’s like flying. You aren’t caged in a box, there’s always wind in your face and your hair, and you can go as fast as you want. It’s refreshing, and there’s nothing in the world that can make you feel so free. It’s truly liberating.”
He opened his eyes, hoping to find revelation in Ariana’s face. Instead, he saw confusion and doubt.
“I just can’t see that,” she said. “When I look at these, I see the lack of enclosure as less protection. The air blowing at me, I think, would just annoy me and make it hard to breathe. And as for speed, I scare myself in my car if I don’t pay attention. I don’t need an unbridled horse that can gallop three times that fast without breaking a sweat.”
How disappointing and sad. “Who taught you to hate clubs and riding?” he asked, keeping his voice down now.
“Why does it matter?”
He wasn’t going to push her, but he’d find out eventually. “I know it’s hard to imagine, Ariana. I can’t really put it into words. But let me take you for a ride and show you. It’s the only way you’ll ever understand.”
Ariana’s eyes grew large, and she shook her head vigorously. “No way! I’m not getting on one of these.” She pointed at the motorcycles, backing away from them.
But he smiled. “If I promise to keep it under the speed limit, will you please give me a chance to show you how it feels? I’m telling you, it’s the only way to understand. And if it’s too much for you, I’ll bring you right back and never ask you to ride again.”
He saw her wavering, and it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge. “Live a little, Ariana. You’re a paramedic. You, of all people, should understand that life is short and precious. Let me give you an adventure you never thought you’d experience.”
She glanced nervously back and forth between the bike and Vince, and he knew he had her. Her chest heaved with a deep breath, and she told him, “One short ride. That’s all.”
Success. “You won’t regret it.” He pointed her toward the rack of goggles. “Pick a pair that fit and bring them up to the counter. I’ve got to write the check so I can ride off into the sunset with you on that ‘death machine.’” He laughed as she stuck her tongue out at him. With a spring in his step, he made his way over to pay for the customizations on his bike. This was going to be a wild ride.