8
“So—I googled you,” she told Griffin later, when he was settled into his usual seat at the Last Chance bar, a bowl of peanuts at his elbow, along with sparkling water in a tankard. “And I just have to ask—was that uncomfortable, the way you straddled that motorcycle completely butt-naked?”
His mouth fell slightly ajar. “f**k. You saw that?”
“Saw it? I plan to blow it up into a wall-size poster. That shot is hot.”
He grinned, lifting his drink to hide behind it. “Thanks. I got heat for it, that’s for sure.”
“From the other riders?”
“Yeah. Motocross isn’t that kind of sport. We’re not a glamour sport, like skiing or football. We’re grind-it-out mud-warriors.”
“Yes, I noticed the strategically placed mud on your torso. Someone had fun with that job.”
His smile took on a nostalgic ti
