I’m grumbling. No, I don’t want to go shopping for his party. I love Jo but well, tonight, all I wanted was to be alone with Kate. To be with her, to feel her against me, to breathe her smell... not with any of my completely wasted friends.
As if he had followed the course of my thoughts, my friend gives me a big slap on the back while laughing.
“Don’t be mad! You live with her, damn it... she’s not going to fly away.”
I glare at him and then follow him to the parking lot at the convenience store. Our eyes are simultaneously drawn to the three Harley Davidsons parked near the entrance.
“Not bad,” Jo whistles, hands in pockets.
“Yeah.”
We still have eyes on the machines when we pass through the door. Enrico, a fifty-year-old Spanish owner, greets us with a brief nod. He seems strangel
