Book Girls Belong to Bikers

I roll into the small rocky mountain city very ready for a break from riding. I pushed hard through the plains as there wasn't really any place worth exploring for me through there. I could spend a couple days here before feeling the itch to get back on my bike. I cruise the old downtown main drag of Western facades trolling for my first goal of the day, coffee. I park in front of the first cafe I see, have a good stretch and make my way inside. The smell alone when I open the door is enough to almost make me close my eyes in pleasure. I’m planning on grabbing a hot drink and a bite and settling in to check out the map of this town on my phone, searching for accommodations and anything worth doing or seeing. I’ve earned a rest. My eyes sweep through the cafe. It's cozy, surprisingly boho for the area with beaded lampshades and printed tapestries thrown over mismatched couches and arm chairs. It’s only about half full so I won't have trouble finding a place to sit. My eyes fall on a young woman about my age typing away, I would say furiously, but she has a smile on her face as if whatever words are pouring out of her at such a pace bring her delight. I make my way to the counter to order but can't stop stealing glances at her. Man, she is a cutie. But it isn't even so much her looks that have me wanting to keep taking her in as it is her expression. Her eyes are wide, her lips are parted and turned up in the corners. She looks excited, just beaming sunshine through this sleepy dim room. What is she writing? What is so riveting and delightful? I turn from the counter with my coffee and breakfast sandwich in hand and start to cut through the room toward a comfy chair in the back. My path is going to take me right past her table. As I approach her she glances up briefly only to then do a double take, smile brightly right at me and say “Hi!” I'm so taken aback by her enthusiastic greeting I'm frozen in place, and it takes me a minute to finally return the greeting in kind. Before the word is even out of my mouth she asks, “Are you a biker?” she's practically bouncing in her seat as her eyes dance down my fitted leather clad form. I can't help but smile. I have no idea why my appearance is so exciting to her, but I'll take it. “Yes, yes I am.” “What do you ride? Is it here?” She twists around to look out the big windows onto the street. Her interest and attention have me zinging like I'd already downed this coffee in my hand plus two more. “Yeah, that's my Kawasaki Versys 650 right there,” I point to my bike visible at the curb. “Can I ask you some questions? I'm actually writing a book about bikers right now!” She's looking at me like I'm the answer to her prayers and I'm not gonna lie, it does something to me. “You're writing a book about bikers? What kind of book?” She certainly doesn't look like she'd know anything about motorcycles. She's as sweet and wholesome looking as you can get. Dressed comfortably and modestly in soft colors with light, if any, make up. Absolutely nothing in her manner or appearance says “tough.” “Sit!” She cheerfully commands. I don't hesitate to comply. If pretty girl wants me to sit with her after I've been on a lonely multi-state long ride where I've only spoken to the occasional cashier, I'm happy to oblige. “It's a romance.” She says with a little blush. It's the first time she's shown me anything but her boldness. A little c***k in the girlish bravado. “It's not trashy!” She says a little defensively. I raise my hands in my own defense. “I didn't say a thing.” But I'm grinning like a fool. Pretty girl likes romance with bikers huh? Well didn't I walk into the right cafe at the right time. Her blush doesn't go away but she plows on with her purpose. “So is that like a racing bike? It doesn't really look like a Harley.” “No, it's not a racing bike but not a chopper like what you're probably thinking of when you say ‘Harley.’ It's an adventure bike or a tourer. It's kind of half way between a sport bike and a cruiser, best of both worlds and good for long distance riding like I'm doing.” “Oh, are you on a road trip? Are you by chance running from a troubled past?” Her eyes practically glitter at the prospect. “You don't even know my name and you want to hear all my deepest darkest secrets?” “Oh my Gosh! I'm so sorry, I just got excited and guess I skipped that part. Hi,” she extends her hand in mock formality, “I’m Cassie. What's your name?” I take her hand and give it a firm slow shake, “I'm Bailey” I can't help but laugh out loud. This girl is really something. “Not Snake? Or Chains?” Again laughter erupts from me and we're getting stink eye from some of the other patrons. Too bad. I can't remember the last time a girl made me laugh like this. “Nope. No road name. Just Bailey. No club affiliation.” I realize we're still holding hands and looking into each other's eyes. But there's nothing awkward about it. I give hers a final little shake before releasing and saying, “Nice to meet you Cassie.” “Likewise, Bailey the Biker.” I feel like both our cheeks are going to hurt after this interaction as we've been smiling the whole time. Well, she seems like she might be more used to it, smiling this much. “I thought book girls were supposed to be shy?” I tease. That gets me a big roll of the eye but her smile doesn't stop so I know she means it playfully. “All kinds of women like books.” She says like she's humoring a child. “So tell me more about yours.” She does and before I know it it's well past lunchtime. The conversation has continued to flow so naturally as she tells me about her romance and asks me questions. I tell her things like actually the heroine could not full on run over the male-lead-who-has-wronged-her’s chopper in a fit of pique in a regular sudan and just drive off. If it made it over at all it would do significant damage to her undercarriage and likely puncture the tires. She changes it to ramming into it and knocking it down before driving off. Though to be party to that even in fiction feels a little wrong to me. That poor innocent bike. I'm loath to end this…whatever this is…but I really need to find a place to sleep tonight in this unfamiliar city. Not to mention grab a shower and possibly a nap. I'm exhausted. I tell Cassie this and I'm positively gratified to see disappointment in her eyes as she says, “Oh, yeah of course, ok. I'm sorry I kept you, thank you so much for answering my questions.” I can tell I wasn't the only one vibing. “But I do plan on staying around for a few days, I’d love to meet up again tomorrow if you're free.” “Ok!” She says immediately, “That would be great!” Man, this girl has no chill. And it's so endearing. Zero guile. “Maybe I can pick you up on my bike and you can show me around town?” “I'd love that! And you know, it'd be good for my research.” She smirks. “We can call it field work.” “I’d rather call it a date.” I say, holding her gaze. And there's that beautiful blush of hers. “Ok,” she says through her smile she's trying to contain, “a date then.” She's still blushing furiously. I guess my book girl is a little shy after all. We exchange numbers to make our arrangements after I've gotten settled and know where I'll be staying.