True to his word, he is right outside my office the next day once work ends. I stop in the middle of the parking lot and take a moment to stare at him.

What am I doing? Why am I resisting him? Is this not that ideal man I have been waiting for forever?

I grab my leather jacket from the passenger seat, stuff some cash and my ID into my pocket, and lock my purse in the car.

Let’s do this.

I turn around and look at him. He is holding a helmet. I stride over to him, my heart pounding harder with every step. He grins at me, and I blush slightly under his scrutiny.

The old me would have gone with him after the first date, but that was the old me. The new me is tired of being disrespected and made to feel like an object. Do not get me wrong. I don’t care if guys check me out, and I always check them out too—because, hey, I know when someone is hot, and it’s an instinctual thing—but when it comes to the point where my personality does not matter and my body is the main attraction, it bothers me. I want someone to want me for my heart and soul. I love with my whole being, and I want to give that to someone. I am twenty-eight years old, and I crave that more than anything. I want a family, and I want to sleep in someone’s arms tonight. Most of all I want to be wanted like I am their next breath of air.

I am tired of my ass being grabbed when I don’t want it to be. I am tired of being groped when I don’t want it. I am so fucking tired of losers who will disrespect me and let me be disrespected by other people. I hold myself in high esteem, and if someone does not treat me as such, I am done. Therefore, I am single—I know my worth and I won’t accept less.

“You ready, Doll?” he asks once I am standing in front of him.

I let out a deep breath and laugh. “As ready as I will ever be.”

He takes my leather jacket and opens it for me to slip my arms in. Men still do that? I stare at the jacket for a few seconds before turning around and letting him slip it on my arms.

“Here is your helmet.”

I slip it over my head and tighten the straps.

He climbs on his bike, his back flexing and his arm muscles bulging, making his tattooed arms look even better. Dear Baby Jesus, give me strength. He turns to look at me and my stomach flips over; I resist the urge to clutch my midsection.

“Hop on.”

Here we go. I press my right hand on his shoulder blade and lift my leg over the bike, climbing on.

“Put your feet here.” He points to the foot pegs.

“Gotcha.” I put both of my feet on the pegs, and now I feel unsteady. Where do I put my hands? Do I wrap myself around him, or... Lane’s hands wrap around my calves, and I am pulled flush against his back.

I laugh in surprise, and he cocks his head to the side slightly and flashes me a blinding smile. “Wrap your arms around me and hold on.” I do as he says, and I rest my chin on his shoulder.

The bike rushes forward with a loud roar and then we are off. My stomach feels like it’s in my chest, and I get a rush of pure adrenaline. I feel like I am flying. I laugh out loud and he speeds up. I close my eyes and enjoy just letting go.

We pull up to a red light, and cars pull up on either side of us. It’s a weird feeling being surrounded by cars, along with being so open and exposed. My hair is sticking to my neck, and I sit straight up with one hand still braced on Lane and the other smoothing my hair.

“Look at that ass.” The car directly beside us is full of guys, their windows partially down.

“Stupid young fucks.” Lane reaches back and grips me by the ass, pulling me toward him.

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything, but I pull my jacket down over my ass.

“Yo Baby, want to come with some real men?”

I look at the douche bags and I feel Lane stiffen. Lane turns around in his seat and looks fully at the men, and they immediately shut up. Lane grins, and chills run up my spine. “You disrespect her one more time, and I will make you fucking eat every single word you’ve said about her.” He points at them before turning back around. The light turns green and we are off.

Holy fuck. Did he just stand up for me? What the hell just happened? I am shocked. I stare at the back of his head.

We pull up outside the steakhouse where we saw each other yesterday. He climbs off first and holds out his hand for me to take. Is this man serious right now? Is this an act? I place my hand in his, and he helps me off the bike.

He helps me take off my helmet and sets it in the saddlebag; then I put my jacket with the helmet. I buckle the saddlebag and look at Lane, and I am startled as I notice him staring directly at me.

He continues to stare at me and a good few seconds go by, and his stare doesn’t waver. “What is it?” I gnaw on my bottom lip as I start to get uncomfortable.

“You’re just beautiful, Doll.”

Oh my god. I almost fall to the ground.

“Lane!” I smile widely. “That was so sweet. Thank you.” It literally takes everything in me not to reach forward and hug him.

He winks. “Let’s get you fed.” He motions toward the door of the restaurant. We walk to the entrance, and he opens the door for me.

“Two,” I tell the waitress at the front, and she grabs two menus.

Lane places his hand on the small of my back as we follow her to our booth. I sit in the seat facing the front of the room. “Move over, Doll.” I scoot farther in the seat, and he sits down directly beside me, not in front of me like I expected.

I look at him from the corner of my eye, still in a bit of shock. It may seem like nothing to a lot of people, but someone being a gentleman doesn’t happen often, or I’ve just always had shit luck with guys I have dated. I want something genuine, but that has yet to happen. Heck, I have never even had a relationship that has lasted longer than a few months.

I am the person who looks at the little things in life because, in the end, that is what means the most.

I open the menu and stare at it. I always hate first dates. Really, I loathe them. They are awkward as heck. Like is the man supposed to buy the food? Do I buy my own? What is too expensive? I am just an awkward person.

“What made you want to be a vet?”

I break from my thoughts and look at Lane. “I have loved animals for as long as I can remember. When I saw an injured animal, as a child, I would bring it home and nurse it back to health, to my father’s delight.” I shrug and he chuckles.

“My daughter has brought home a few birds with broken wings, a squirrel, and too many dogs.” His eyes light up at the mention of his daughter. There is nothing hotter than a man being a good dad.

“Aww, how old is she?” I grin and scoot a little closer.