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He released a deep breath and just rode.
It felt good to have the wind in his face and a sexy woman on his bike with him.
Soon Anya’s death grip on him loosened, and she settled in as if she’d been riding for years.
They continued riding around the city and headed down Las Vegas Boulevard. He stopped at the red light and glanced around. People were everywhere, strolling down the sidewalks. Traffic wasn’t too bad. Once the sun went down, all of the tourists would come out of the woodwork. Most people weren’t used to the desert sun and heat. It did take some getting used to. Dalton had lived his entire life in Vegas and was comfortable with it. His gaze landed on the fake New York skyline of one of the popular hotels and casinos.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been on the strip,” Anya shouted over the sound of the bike.
That wasn’t too uncommon. Most natives to the city avoided the strip unless they were going to see a show. The city of Las Vegas was actually quiet and not as fast-paced as many people would imagine. It was a community-oriented town, and that was why most people relocated there.
“Me neither.” The light changed to green. He pressed on the gas and drove on.
Anya’s gasps and laughter had a smile remaining on his lips. A lot had changed on the strip since she’d moved away. He pointed out new hotels and restaurants.
Pretty soon, he was guiding the bike into his driveway. He cut the engine, allowing silence to surround them.
“This is your home?” Anya asked, climbing off the bike.
“Yeah.” He dismounted and helped her remove the helmet.
She ran her fingers through her hair and looked around. He glanced at his house, and pride swelled in his chest. He’d fallen in love with it when he’d first seen it. It was more than a single man would need, but deep in his heart, he wanted to fill it with a family.
His gaze settled on Anya.
“It’s beautiful. Does it have a pool?”
“Of course.” He snorted. What self-respecting Vegas native would he be without a pool? “Come on. I promised you I’d show you my toys, and if you play your cards right, I’ll cook for you.” He pulled her purse out of his saddlebags and handed it to her.
“Oooh, you cook?” she teased.
He grabbed her hand, needing to feel her. He tugged her to follow behind him.
“Of course I do. I’m a fireman. I didn’t get this size eating takeout all the time. Plus, with the men I work with, they eat. A lot.” He snickered, thinking about his crew. They were all in top shape, and due to workouts, most of the guys had to consume high calories.
They walked around to the side door of his garage. One of the reasons he’d fallen in love with the home was the size of the garage. He comfortably used the extra bay to store his bikes he worked on, creating a shop that didn’t take away where he parked his vehicle.
He flicked on the light and paused.
Anya came to stand beside him. “Oh, wow. These are nice.”
She released his hand and moved over to where his bikes were stored.
He strolled behind her, watching as she took in his older bikes.
She turned to him. “So this is what the great Dalton McNeil tinkers on when not fighting fires?”
“It’s not tinkering. I restore them,” Dalton clarified.
“Oh, sorry.” She giggled.
Dalton liked the sound of her laugh and wanted to hear it more often.
“These are my babies. Let me introduce you to this black-and-gray machine.” They stepped over a few parts he’d left on the floor. “This here is a nineteen eighty-two Yamaha XV750.”
“It’s beautiful,” Anya gushed. She walked up to it and ran her hand along the silver handlebar.
Dalton loved this bike. He’d found an ad in the paper a few months ago, and it snagged his attention. The price was low and just what he’d wanted to pay. Dalton had gone and picked it up immediately. He loved this model of a bike. The parts were cheap, and the Japanese built reliable bikes that weren’t too complicated to restore.
