"Basketball game."
She made a sound of supreme disgust. "Oh no. I don't do spectator sports. They bore me to tears."
Ash tsked at her. In this one thing, he was the mighty mountain who wouldn't be moved. He'd made a promise and he was going to be there no matter what. "You might as well reconcile yourself to the fact that you will be sitting on the bench today since I can't leave you here alone."
She actually hissed at him like a cat. "Dream on, buddy. Not going to happen."
"Yes it will."
"No," she said firmly. "It won't."
Tory couldn't believe his obstinacy. Why was he being so unreasonable? What difference would it make if he missed a stupid game with his friends?
But the more she protested, the more he ignored her. They literally fought over it up until Ash came downstairs wearing a black and white polyester referee shirt. He even had on basketball shoes instead of his requisite boots.
The sight of him dressed like that stunned her until the ludicrousness of it struck her.
It was all she could do not to laugh at the sight he made with his long red and black hair pulled back in a ponytail and nose ring . . . not a stud. A small silver hoop to match the two he now wore in his left earlobe. "They let you referee, huh?"
"No one argues with my calls."
"I'll bet."
He shrugged his coat on and picked up the backpack of death. "You want to ride with me over to the game?"
His offer surprised her since she hadn't seen him do anything other than walk or ride with her. "You have your car?"
Ash smiled. "Motorcycle. I brought it over last night when I went to get my clothes." It was a small lie. He'd actually manifested it this morning when he'd decided he wanted to ride for a bit and he was hoping she wouldn't balk over it.
"I don't have a helmet."
He pulled a black one out of the backpack. "You do now. What do you say? You up for some adventure?"
Tory wrinkled her nose at the helmet and folded her arms over her chest. She would love to join him, but she wasn't stupid either. "I have no gear to wear and the last thing I want to be is SQUID."
He laughed at her use of a biker's term to describe anyone dumb enough to ride without the proper safety gear on.
He pulled a worn, black Stitch Brazilian leather jacket out of his backpack. The shoulders, elbows and waist of it were heavily stitched and the armor in it extremely lightweight, but it was the dark gray skull and crossbones on the back with a gold Hayabusa symbol over it that made her laugh. "You have a thing for skulls don't you?"
"They're all right."
His attention to detail was admirable and the truth was, she hadn't been on a bike since the summer.
"You game?" he asked.
She took the jacket and shrugged it on. As she did so, the scent of leather and Acheron struck her hard. He must have worn this jacket a lot. Completely broken in, it felt warm and soft as she tightened it up with laces and Velcro. It fit her surprisingly well. It was also extremely expensive. She wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't paid at least a grand for it given the way it was made.
What on earth did he do for a living that he could afford toys like this? And just how did he fit everything in that Mary Poppins backpack of his?
Grateful that it was obviously bigger than it looked, she took the helmet from him and smiled. "Lead the way."
Ash's throat went dry at the sight of her in his favorite riding jacket. It looked alien and adorable on her. Definitely not her usual style and at the same time it made him feel as if she'd somehow claimed him by wearing his clothes. She reminded him of a kid in her big brother's jacket as she pushed her glasses up on her nose, then braided her hair to fall down her back so that the wind wouldn't tangle it. He waited for her to put her boots on before she was ready to leave.
Damn, the woman was strangely beautiful. Those brown eyes seared his soul and made him hard every time she met his gaze. And if he didn't get her out of this house soon, he was going to scoop her up in his arms, take her upstairs to her bed and show her exactly where his true talents lay . . .
Pushing that thought away before it got him into trouble, he took her down to the street where his sleek black and gold motorcycle gleamed in the sunlight. It looked like a nasty predator that tore up the road and made him feel a freedom he only had when he dreamed. There was nothing he loved more than climbing on the back of it and flying down the interstate like a bullet.
On that bike, his soul felt free and no matter how bad he felt, it made everything okay.
"What in the world is that?" she asked as she cocked her head to look it over.
"Custom built Hayabusa-Turbo," he said as he pulled his helmet off the handlebars and put it on over his head.