He liked to get where he was going as quickly as possible and chose air travel any time he could afford it. A two-hour motorcycle cruise he could get behind —there was something sexy about the wind buffeting you all over, the rumble of a chopper between your legs, and the grit of bugs in your teeth—but cars…not so much. If someone had told him at the start of the afternoon that he would be bummed by how quickly the two hour drive seemed to pass, he would have snorted Coke out his nose and called them a liar.But at four o’clock he hadn’t known how often Kitty would make him laugh, or the way the afternoon sun would catch the red streaks in her hair and warm her golden skin, making her look like an old-time movie star. He didn’t know that when they reached cruising speed she’d let him hold her hand, or that it would be so unbearably sexy to watch her self-assured mastery of the finicky Clyde. He didn’t know that at approximately five-thirty-three p.m. something would click inside him and he would realize that he’d found her, that girl, that forever kind of girl, the one he had secretly feared only existed in really badass video games and comic books.By the time they pulled back into Stumpgrinder’s Brewhouse at six o’clock, all John wanted was more time alone with Kitty.
