Mack cruised at a steady speed, just over sixty miles per hour, Brad’s bright red ass five seconds ahead of his bike. Once Sylvia’s slipped away behind them, it became obvious that the kid wasn’t interested in outrunning him—if he were, he wouldn’t keep looking in his mirrors to make sure Mack followed. He hadn’t put his helmet back on for this ride, and his blonde locks whipped to one side every time he checked the mirror. Mack could imagine the feel of that hair between his fingers—tangled and slightly oily from the wind. His hands tightened on the handlebars, goosing the throttle involuntarily as he wondered what that hair would smell like pressed against his nose. A clean, wild scent, perhaps, that gave way to sweaty musk closer to Brad’s scalp. He’d find out. Easing into