The next morning, Damon was saddling up his favorite gelding, a blaze-faced dun, when a whirlwind roared into the ranch yard. As the dust settled, he saw the motorcycle, a sleek black Harley. The rider dismounted and took off his helmet, revealing a head of sandy blond hair.
Eric rides a Harley? It took him a moment to absorb this surprising bit of information. He hadn’t pegged the young vet for a biker type, but then he’d been wrong in his judgment about the man once already. Maybe he’d better try for an open mind. I think I’m getting to be a sour old codger ahead of my time, stuck in my narrow rut out here. Time to snap out of it.
The vet slithered out of his leathers and draped them over the bike. When he turned to start Damon’s way, Damon noticed how his faded jeans clung to muscular
