Page 10 of For the Love of Scott
“Don’t you need it?” Aren’t there laws?
“On the off chance we go down, you get the head protection. It’s non-negotiable.”
“Okay. Where do I sit?”
Ben pats the space behind him. “Sit as far back or as close to me as you feel comfortable. Feet go there.” He points. “You can hold onto that part there—” He points again. “—or you can put your hands on my waist.” He glances in the direction of home. “It’ll take us less than five minutes.”
Scott slides the helmet over his head and fastens the chin strap while Ben revs the engine. He balances the bike between his legs and sits, then nods. Scott swings a leg over and settles into position, leaving a couple of inches between his crotch and Ben’s ass.
He’s never been on a motorcycle. Putting his hands on Ben makes Scott nervous, but not holding onto him seems foolhardy. He clutches Ben’s waist and squeezes once as an indicator that he’s ready. Ben nods and revs the engine again. He puts the bike into motion, settling his feet on the pegs, and picks up speed.
The cold air rushes over them, but the sound is muted by the thick helmet. Ben’s hair ruffles in the draft. The bike vibrates smoothly beneath them, and Ben tilts the vehicle slightly as they take the turns. Scott holds his breath each time, even though Ben doesn’t cant the bike too steeply. Thank goodness. Otherwise, the ride is uneventful, and a short time later, Ben pulls to a stop near the front door of the kennel and cuts the engine.
Scott’s heart is thumping as he dismounts. His knees feel a little wobbly and he fumbles with the chin strap, but finally gets it undone and removes the helmet.
Sylvester dances and yips at the chain-link fence. More barking sounds from the kennel area beyond.
Ben takes the helmet from him and grins like the Cheshire cat. “What did you think?”
Scott’s cheeks warm.Shit.“How could you tell?”
“What? That you were a motorcycle virgin?” he asks and laughs. “The tightness of your hands at my waist and the squeeze of your knees along my hips.”
Scott rolls his eyes. “Great.” Just what he needs—to look like a dumbass in front of the guy who likes him. But better for him to know what he’s getting, Scott supposes.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “Next time’ll be better.”
Scott arches an eyebrow. “Next time? You’re that sure you’re going to get me back on that thing?”
“I’m pretty sure, yeah.” Ben nods and winks. Scott’s gut quivers at the promise in Ben’s voice. “I’ll go into town, get a car and a gas can, and head back this way, all right?”
“Listen, Ben, there’s no rush. I’ve got to work with the dogs for a while this afternoon. How about tonight? You bring gas and beer, I’ll order pizza.”
Ben had offered slow, and Scott still wanted that, but they couldn’t make any progress without spending time together. And suddenly, he wants to dip his toe in.
Ben’s whole face lights up and then immediately dims. “Oh, man, I wish I could, but Misty’s got her kindergarten program tonight. And we’re going for ice cream after that.”
“Yeah. Okay.” It’s silly to be disappointed. They’re at the very beginning of whatever this is, and they both have jobs and obligations. There are bound to be conflicts. “Of course.”
“Hey, what are you doing on Monday night?” Ben asks, his face suddenly shining like a movie theater marquee. “Everyone’s coming over for the Game of the Week. Why don’t you come too?”
“Who’s everyone?” Not that it matters. If Scott accepts, his appearance will basically be an announcement. He just wants to know who all he is potentially announcing to.
“Tim, Rachel, and Leah. Leah might bring her flavor of the week. That’s it.”
Ben’s family. That doesn’t seem so daunting. He’s already faced half of them. How intimidating can his sisters be?
“Okay.” Scott nods slowly. Sylvester yips. He hands Ben a twenty. “For the gas.”
Ben shoves the cash into his pocket. “I’ll stop by in the morning then.”
Scott lifts a hand in farewell and enters the kennel. Sylvester dances around him and Scott picks him up. The soft fur of Sylvester’s neck is silky against his face. “I think I have a boyfriend, Syl. What do you think of that?”
Sylvester arfs and licks Scott’s cheek. Scott chuckles. “I’m not so sure, either.” He lowers Sylvester to the ground and takes off his coat. “C’mon, boy, we’ve got work to do.”
