The date had been stamped in his mind, he'd found it himself, gone through her file at the dead of night, wrecked a filing cabinet doin' it too. But it didn't matter, he'd *HAD* to know, but he couldn't just come out an ask her. Not with every ear listening to what he said to her, they said they didn't do it but he knew.
There was *always* someone around when he was near her, he could smell them, watching him, expecting him to do something 'unappropriate'.

Shit he'd been blue balled before in front of her and she'd never been in any danger from him. But someone thought she was, so he'd behaved, kept it on just this side of 'friendly'. Not brotherly but close, just enough of a psych gap for her to leap across of she wanted to.

The present had been her idea at first, one she'd had when he'd first stolen Scott's bike, her voice had whistfully questioned him to how it felt to ride with the wind battering you. If it felt like you were losing yourself to the drag of it until there was nothing left of you. He'd seen her then, stretched across the tank of the bike he'd stolen (and sold somewhere north of Moosejaw). Her face smiling, her eyes sparkling with light, sinuous curves wrapping herself around the beating heart of the bike. Dressed in leather from head to toe, from the toe capped boots with a carved design on them, to the jacket with her name on.
The image had made for some uncomfortable nights on the road but he'd endured the time and as each day passed the closer she got to the date he'd been waiting for.

He'd been in Mahony's Auto Mall coming back through the Adirondacks to the school when he'd seen it, sat behind a monster of a bike. The huge thing in front of it pulled him toward it, the frame wasn't American, neither were the handlebars. When he got close enough he saw the name on the tank, Norton. The dealer couldn't get to him fast enough, apparantly a tourist had had this shipped over for touring the mountain roads. Thing was the roads were more than a match for him and the bike had ended up with him. Was he interested?
Logan had fixed the man with a stare that had made him back off into the window of his own showroom and smiled at the pale faced man. He'd asked for a price on both the Norton and the Ducati Monster that was behind it. He'd tried to get him to pay nearly sixteen thousand for the both but he'd gotten him down to eight, including a helmet, leathers, insurance (fully comp), a set of paniers for the Ducati and a five year service agreement with his dealership.
Not a bad deal in all.

He'd loaded the bikes up before he'd headed off for his own little peice of heaven on earth. He was close enough to New York to be helpful but enough distance to be alone when he needed to be. He'd worked on the bike's, sorted out the oil problems, tinkered with the handling until the date finally rolled round.

Taking the leather (which he'd had customised with her name on the back in forest green leather) he put it with the helmet he'd had re-painted to match her hair. He'd described the damn thing so well that the man who'd been doing it had even painted a small version of her on his Norton's tank. A women dressed in leather, her back to him but an eye peeking out looking over her shoulder through a mane of chesnut and white blowing in the wind. He'd stroked that picture every time he got on the bike, even called her 'Marie'. She rode hard, fast, unpredictable and nasty on curves that could kill lesser men, just like the real one.

Loading up he'd taken the road down, passing the small town inhabitants he was on 'hand-waving' terms with. Another reason he liked it here, they left him alone, didn't crowd him, left him to live the way he damn well pleased. His thoughts were all over the place as he drove down, he'd put the map into the seat, the key was strapped to the tank. All she had to do was drive, and he'd been asking questions if she could drive something like this.

Scott made sure every child, adult and staff member had a working knowledge of how to use every vehicle on the grounds. So she knew how to ride, he only hoped she'd use some sense when it came to this baby on the back. There were inhibitors he'd put in, just in case, because under that Southern Lady was a little Hell Cat who wanted to burn her way through Hell and threaten Heaven as well. Smiling he'd gotten through the gates of the mansion and set out to find her.

When he'd entered there'd been the remains of a small cake with the number 21 on it and a few popped balloons. Not much of a celebration and it seemed as if everyone had something else to do other than celebrate Marie's coming of age. But what did you expect when you saved the world on a weekly basis?

He'd found her easily enough, lost in her thougths, a sadness touching her eyes, shoulders slumped forward. Carefully schooling his face he walked over, picked her up by the arm and dragged her to the garage. She didn't complain but her shock registered to his nose when she saw it sat on the back of the truck. Letting go of her he pulled it down, her eyes locked onto the curves of it, the dark black of the tank and the power it seemed to thrum through the air to her. Her hands itched to touch it but she didn't move just yet. Smiling to himself he threw her the helmet and the jacket, the rest of her gear was at his. She had a map inside the seat, he hoped she'd find it before the end of the day. But she just stood there, all shock until he winked at her, then as the colour went through her cheeks he saw her coming alive. Eyes searing over his own frame as much as she'd done to the bike, he'd gotten back into his own truck adn had driven away.

That had been the hardest part of all, letting her decide, fifteen times he'd nearly stopped and gone back for her. But 'NO', she had to 'choose' for herself, he'd made the offer, let her see what he thought she was capable of. She knew a bike was more than a bike, it was freedom, a sense of independence, of adulthood, he saw her as an adult. Now she had to act like one.

He'd been back for nearly six hours when he heard the purr of the engine outside the house, wiping his hands on a towel he'd opened the porch door and walked round to see her just swinging her jean leg off the bike. Her hands were undoing the full face helmet and as she pulled it clear he had to hold onto the porch. Her hair fell in clouds around her shoulders, she looked so much like the portrait on his tank he had to remember to breathe. Sensing him she half turned and blood went south making him light headed for a moment, she was all smiles, her gait a little unsteady but hey it was her first time on her bike. She came over, climbing the steps to stand next to him, her hands covered she touched his face, tracing the lines to his mouth. Watching as her scent and blood pressure hitched up a few notches, her lips trembling as she tried to sound older than she was. Trying to keep the hope alive that he really *did* want her. "She's beautiful Logan, Ah found a map an Ah thought Ah'd go see where it led me." She paused her eyes looking through his and needing confirmation that it wasn't a mistake on his part. He just pulled her into his warmth and purred his reply.
"Thought you'd never get here, you missed dinner though." Her smile was suddenly brighter as were her eyes as she let herself fall into his grip. Pushing her form into his as he shifted her toward the inside of the house, his next words making her shudder. "You should see what else I got you for your birthday."
"Really, you got me more?"
"Uh-huh, but if I'd given you it back there, Scott would've had my balls on the flagpole." He turned a dark smile onto her own flushed skin, chuckling as she worked out exactly what he'd done. Thing was it was the best present anyone could have given her, and if they played their cards right, it was the gift that kept on giving, every single day.