“Do I need to switch the bikes or stop and add a sissy bar before we leave the area? Charlotte is a long ride.” I ask not sure if she’s up for the discomfort of the five-hour ride.

If need be, we can go back to the compound, add a sissy bar or trade the bike to something more comfortable for her, like an Ultra Classic or Screaming Eagle. I’m sure one of the guys would have a full dresser, weekender ride.

“I’ve been farther than Charlotte with nothing to lean on, Tripp. I got this, no worries, let’s go. The quicker we leave, the more my dad can focus and get this over with.” She replies in a somewhat somber tone.

She’s going to miss home. This is the first sign of sadness she’s shown. Anger, surprise, and defiance have all been ever present, but this is the first sign of discomfort and sadness.

I crank the bike as she puts on her helmet. Revving the throttle for the hell of it, she climbs on. She settles in behind me. Her hands are lower this time as she pulls tight against me. She is wrapped around my waist, her hands are roaming my abdomen, causing my muscles to twitch involuntarily through my clothing.

The weather is nice, the company is quiet, and the scenery much better on the back roads as we head out. Avoiding the interstate, we stick with the country roads, nothing but pavement and pine trees as we make our way back to my home. The more Doll settles herself in behind me, the more I find myself relaxing into the ride.

Arriving in town, we pull up to my house. Something inside me twists as I think, having Doll on this ride, I could get used to having someone on the back of my bike. I pull the bike through my back gate. The garage is full with my truck and two motorcycles. Rex and I live together. He has a shop in the back for his car and bike; there is enough room back here for these two bikes to be stored safely. Our house is small, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and a kitchen.

We pull the bikes in, and turn them off as the girls both climb off. Grabbing the contents of the saddlebags, Rex and I lead the way in through the back door. This leads in through the kitchen. It’s painted in an ugly ass blue color. The realtor called the kitchen décor French country, whatever the fuck that means. It’s a house, a place to eat, sleep, shit, shower, and fuck. No more, no less.

“Sass, you can take Rex’s room tonight. He’ll show you where to put your things. Doll, follow me and you can crash in my room.”

“Where will you two sleep?” Doll asks with genuine interest.

“On the couch and in the chair,” I answer blankly.

What a dumb question. I can’t leave them here alone, but I’m sure as shit not sharing a room with her if I can help it. There will be enough of that on this trip, why start my test in self-control early?