Marty chuckled. “Yeah, and it belongs to a woman that’s way out of your league.”
Crash tossed his drink bac
k and shrugged. “Maybe.”
Marty shook his head. “Guess the way you boys attract women, wouldn’t be surprised at that, if she fell at your feet.”
Crash grinned. “Now that’d be a damn pretty picture. Her at my feet.”
Marty snorted.
Crash nodded toward her drink sitting on the bar. “What’s that called again?”
“Mudslide.”
“What’s in it?” He picked it up and sniffed it.
“Kahlua, Bailey’s, and supposed to be vodka. Your girl asked for coconut rum, so, not sure what that tastes like.” He nodded toward the drink in Crash’s hand.
Crash took a sip, studied the glass and said, “Not bad. A little sweet for my taste.” Then he downed another big sip before setting the glass back.
When Shannon returned a few minutes later, she sat, picked up her glass and looked at it. Then her eyes cut to Crash. “Did you drink this?”
When he just grinned in return, she set the glass back down with a little too much force.
Crash stood up. “Let’s roll, Princess.”
They moved to the door, and he held it for her. They walked out to the parking lot and stopped at his bike. Crash picked up the helmet that Cole had left sitting on his seat and held it out to her.
She looked at it and then at him. “I’m in a dress.”
“See that, babe. It’s real pretty.”
“I can’t ride in a dress, Crash.”
“Sure you can.” When she still didn’t take the helmet, he took a step toward her and set it on her head. Then he buckled the strap. He strapped his own on, slung his leg over and lifted the bike up off its kickstand. He watched her face, waiting for that moment when she’d notice. And here it was.
“Where the hell am I supposed to sit, in your lap?”
He fired up the bike and grinned. “On the fender.”
“The fender?”
“Yeah. You’re ridin’ the fender.”
“Like hell I am.”
“You coming or not?”
She lifted her hands in the air. “Can’t I just call a cab? Just give me the address.”
“Nope.”
“No?”
“No. Get on, Princess.”
“But-”