Page 13 of Misadventures And Ms. Demeanor

Goldie grinned and looked at JT—I couldn't call him McHottie anymore since I knew his real name—in a new way I couldn't interpret. Bob said something that piqued Goldie'scuriosity, and it had to do with JT. And it had to have a story. Goldie loved a good story.

"All right. That's not a bad idea." She nodded her head. "Give me a few minutes and I'll get back to you. Thanks, Bob." Goldie hung up, waggled her eyebrows. "So, JT, I guess you really want to get to Sturgis?"

JT just looked at Goldie for a moment, then muttered a bad word under his breath. "He told you?"

She nodded slowly. "It's been a long time since I've seen you, but you should remember, everyone tells meeverything."

Aunt Velma and I looked between the two, completely clueless. It was as if they spoke in a foreign language.

"Bob's in Sturgis for the rally like JT said," Goldie added.

"Yeah, that's the problem," JT replied, pointing down at the broken bike.

"We're actually headed to Omaha in that." Goldie pointed at the pickle, which now that my heart rate had returned to normal, I saw had a nice big dent in the back bumper and undercarriage. Great. Hopefully Goldie wouldn't notice it since she was selling it. "I've got a trailer in storage we can put your bike on and take it...and you, to Sturgis. It's on the way. It's the least we can do. Bob said if we call him when we get there, he can arrange to get the bike fixed."

JT looked surprised. "Really?"

"Really. You don't believe me?" Goldie countered archly.

He held up a hand in front of him. "No, ma'am. I believe you." He scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure of what to say. "It's just that it's Sturgis and there are going to be thousands of Harleys. I figure Bob will be too busy having fun to take on a fix while he's there."

Goldie cracked her knuckles. "That's most likely true, but people seem to just want to help me."

"Is it perhaps because you know if someone likes to watch girl on girl porn or purchased the triple donger for an anniversary present?" Aunt Velma clarified. "Or in Bob's case, the new movie starring Silky Tangles?" She turned her gaze to me.

I just looked at her with myWhat?stare.

Goldie shrugged.

"Like you said, it's been a long time since I've been in your store," JT told Goldie, his face hard and lacking emotion. "You don't have anything on me that isn't ancient history."

Goldie winked slyly. "I do now."

JT's cheeks flushed crimson and he pursed his lips into a tight line.

"So, need that ride to Sturgis?"

5

It only took an hour to get the broken bike up on a flatbed trailer and the whole thing hooked up to the back of the RV. The two guys who brought it most likely had some weird sexual fetishes that they were afraid Goldie would let slip. Little did they know that Goldie never told. Ever. Clearly not knowing that, they had the bike secured quickly and efficiently. They paused and offered their condolences to JT before they drove off. I stayed as far away from the man as possible.

"I need to pack."

"You both do," Goldie cut in. She tossed me her keys, but I wasn't ready, so I fumbled for them like a woman scrambling for a tossed wedding bouquet. "Perhaps it's best if you take my car and I drive the RV."

"Good thinking," Aunt Velma added. "Let's meet back at Goldie's house in say...an hour?"

Goldie nodded and we all looked to JT. He was staring forlornly at his bike. "One hour. I can't believe I'm saying this"—he sighed heavily—"but I'll ride with Goldie. You should have your license revoked." He pointed at me like Uncle Sam on those recruiting posters then walked over to the passenger door of thepickle. Climbing in, he slammed the door hard enough to rock the RV from side to side.

"Those are some mighty fine buns of steel," Aunt Velma whispered. Very loudly.

A woman with a Disneyland t-shirt and Day-Glo jog shorts had paused with her super-sized slushy and enjoyed the view—the back half of JT—with us. "Mmm mmm. They sure make them fine up here in Montana."

Yes, ma'am, they sure did.

We pulledinto Goldie's driveway right on schedule. Aunt Velma was a stickler for punctuality, so I couldn't be sure I'd included everything I needed for a road trip across the American West. My bag had been packed, ready for Thailand, so I swapped out a few things for extreme heat and humidity with a little lightweight fleece.

JT was leaning over his bike, adjusting the yellow ratchet straps that held it down. I didn't get anywhere near him. Not that I was avoiding the man, which I was, but because if something else happened to the bike, it wasn't going to be my fault. Didn't mean I couldn't stare at his butt from a distance.