He took his black leather jacket out of his backpack and slipped it on. After making sure his backpack was secured, he put the key into the ignition, turned it and revved the engine. The low and raucous sound reverberated off the cement walls and echoed back into his ears. Although there weren’t too many vehicles in that section of the garage, he heard the beeping of an alarm.
He revved the engine a few more times, slipped on his helmet, fastened it and slowly backed out of the parking spot.
He’d parked on the third level of the four-story garage and was rounding the curve toward the second level when his stomach rumbled. He planned to grab a bite to eat and then take the Pacific Coast Highway to his home just outside of town.
His heart flapped like a caged bird in his chest when he spotted Sonya waving her arms above her head. While she didn’t appear to be hurt, she did need some kind of help and he was eager to assist.
He rode up alongside her and put his feet down on the pavement, stopping the cycle.
“What’s the trouble?”
There was little chance of her recognizing him with the flap down on his helmet, and when he spoke his words were slightly muffled.
She cupped her hand behind her ear. “What? I can’t hear you.”
He unbuckled the strap of his helmet and lifted it off his head.
“And you thought you’d never see me again.”
Her eyes widened. “Hiding again, Mr. Waterson?”
“What do you mean?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You never told me you were a teacher when I spilled coffee all over you.”
“How could I? I didn’t know you were going to be my student.”
He revved his engine by habit, and she clapped her hands over her ears.
“Don’t you like motorcycles?”
She shook her head and frowned. “Not particularly.”
Trent looked behind him and saw a car turning the corner and heading his way. He pedaled the cycle out of the way and turned off the engine.
“Why not?”
She dropped her hands to her sides.
“They’re dangerous and loud, and the guys who ride them are usually trouble.”
He laughed. “They are only dangerous in the wrong hands.”
“I’m glad we agree on something.”
“You think I’m trouble, huh?”
Sonya edged out a smile. “You could be.”
“Thank you. I take that as a compliment. Now, what seems to be the trouble?”
She pointed to a little red convertible. “My car won’t start.”
He hopped off his bike and whistled. “She’s a beauty, and I’m not just talking about the car.
“That’s a pretty rare model, dating back to the late 1960s, correct? How do you happen to own one?”
“My father gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.”
“Very nice.”
He heard the pride in her voice and it pleased him. It wasn’t often that he met a woman who had an interest in cars, other than as a way of getting from point A to point B.
“It was a bribe to try and get me to major in business administration in college.”
“From the look on your face, I’m gathering it didn’t work.”
“No, I majored in dance and enjoyed every minute of it.”
“The color suits you.”
“Thank you, I just wish it would start.”
“Did you call for a tow?”
She shook her head. “No. My phone is dead and besides, this requires a flatbed truck.”
“Hand over the keys and let me try.”
She turned toward her tiny car and then back, sizing him up. “Are you sure you’ll fit?”
A smile crossed his lips. “Worth a try, isn’t it?”
She gave him a keychain that had a miniature cable car dangling from it. By the weight of it, he could tell it was pure silver.
“Okay. Give it a shot.”
He opened the door and sat down, but his long legs wouldn’t fit. “Snug.”
“You might want to adjust the seat.”
“Right.”
He pushed the seat back as far as it would go. His knees were still cramped, but the fit of his six-foot-two frame was much better. He depressed the clutch with his right foot, stuck the key in the ignition and turned.
“Not even a click,” Trent muttered.
“Told you so,” she said, and couldn’t help giggling. “Would you do me a favor and call for a flatbed tow?”
“I know just the guy for the job.”
He tugged his phone out of his jacket pocket and put it to his ear.
“How soon can he be here?” she asked after he ended the call.
“Five or ten minutes. He’s already in the area.”
He got out of her vehicle and dropped the keys into her upturned palm.
“After he’s done, I’ll be happy to give you a ride home.”
She gave him a wary look. “On that thing?”
Trent patted the seat. “Hey, you’re talking about my best friend. Don’t worry. We’ll both treat you with the utmost care.”
A grateful smile crossed her face, but her eyes were still distrustful. “Thanks, but I’m not sure I’ll feel safe on a motorcycle. I’ve never ridden on one before.”
Trent felt his heart pound against his chest, and he wondered why he felt a sudden need to change her mind. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have cared. Why Sonya?
“I carry around a spare helmet, just for special occasions like these.”
“Special?”
“Yes. It’s not often I’m in the position to offer a trade.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ride for ride. I give you a ride home on my sexy bike and you take me for a ride in your sexy convertible.”
She paused and seemed to consider his offer. “Promise you won’t go too fast?”
He held out his hand. “Deal. Let’s shake on it.”
Sonya took it, and he loosened up a little on his powerful grip so he wouldn’t hurt her. He wished he didn’t have to let go of her hand, but he did.
The tow truck arrived, and Trent helped the driver load up her car. When they were alone again, he opened up the case strapped to the back of his cycle that held two full-faced helmets. He picked up the spare and held it out to her.
“Go ahead, try it on. You’re actually the first person to wear it.”
“The fit is snug,” she said. Her voice sounded muffled and a little bit fearful behind the visor. “Like it was made for me.” Her hands trembled as she tried to fasten the strap underneath her chin.
“Allow me.”
He fastened the strap and then flipped open the clear