I had one hand on my hip and a look on my face that hopefully said I wasn’t going to change my mind Chapter Eight He lived only a few miles away from his dad’s garage. I suspected the reason he drove was more that he loved being on his motorcycle rather than he actually needed to. His place wasn’t huge. When the door swung open, we entered the living room first. With a quick look around, I noted a feminine touch. His mom must have fixed the place up. Alice didn’t seem like the type of woman who’d let her son fester in a rat hole or frat house. That’s not to say there were flowered curtains all around; everything was very manly, from the dark couch down to the much too large television and bare walls, aside from a clock. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” And he was off. Within thirty seconds, I heard the shower raining down in the bathroom. I gave myself a private tour of the rest of his place. He had quite a bit of square footage, more than I’d first thought.
