Acres of chrome glittered in the hot sunlight. Bikes and bikers crowded the streets, especially the main strip of Sturgis. Layla pulled off her helmet. She held onto Blake’s bare arms and peered around the brim of his hat, trying to take it all in. Above the steady thrum of pipes, she swore she heard Guns n’ Roses playing “Welcome to the Jungle.” Or maybe that was just her interpretation. But it fit. Tanner rode his motorcycle beside Blake’s. The brothers were a sight all their own. They made being bad look so good. The two of them were shirtless in black leather vests. When they gripped the handlebars every muscle bulged along their arms. They both had that Dirty Harry look perfected, their faces and bodies chiseled and tan head to toe, just begging to be noticed. Blake wore his hair down with a flat-brimmed hat resembling Richie Sambora’s from the “Wanted Dead or Alive”
