“I didn’t think about that,” he says sheepishly. “Sorry. Okay, I’ll be on my way then. You go on back to sleep.”

He turns to walk back down the porch steps and sways slightly.

“Wait! Sam, are you drunk?”

He glances back at me over his shoulder and laughs.

“No...I’m not drunk. What would make you think that?”

Of course not.

I’ve never known a single man to admit when they were drunk.

“Let me rephrase my question then. How much have you had to drink tonight?”

He opens his blue eyes wide and gives me his best puppy dog, innocent look. I wonder how many times he’s used that expression on other women. Or cops.

“Only a couple of beers,” he answers. “Not much.”

“Ah...the standard answer. Two beers.”

“I’m fine,” he says with a wave. “I’ll call you.”

He walks down the porch steps to his motorcycle, reaches for his helmet, and fumbles it onto the ground.

Great.

“You had better come inside,” I say. “You can’t drive in this condition.”

“Sure I can,” he argues. “I’m an excellent driver.”

Now he’s slurring his words, though I notice he’s taking great care to enunciate each word as clearly as he can. He sounds like he’s getting more intoxicated by the minute. In my mind, I picture him guzzling down a quart of whiskey then hopping on his bike before the alcohol had time to seep through his system.

“Right now you’re a drunk driver who has no business being on the road.”

I walk outside in my bare feet and hold out my hand.

“Give me your keys.”

He chuckles and jerks the keys high out of my reach.

“I’m not giving a woman the keys to my bike,” he says.

Now he’s about to piss me off.

“Did you really just say that? Do you want me to knock you on your ass? Give me the damn keys!”

“You’re a feisty little kitten, aren’t you?” he says.

“Kitten? Keep it up buddy, and I’ll show you what it feels like to be shredded by a tiger.”

I grab for the keys and he jumps back again. It’s all I can do to refrain from kicking his legs out from under him and taking the keys like I know I can. Throwing him to the ground might be a little suspicious since he’s bigger and much stronger, so I have to control myself. Few women my size can throw a big man off their feet in three seconds. With all the self-defense and takedown training I’ve had, it will be easy. One way or another, he’s not going back on the road.

“Cut it out, Sam. I’m not playing with you.”