Gentlemen, Start Your Engines

She roared up to Dante’s on her usual night and in her usual reckless fashion, on a tricked-out Harley so smokin’ with chrome it would make the most Hellacious of Angels drool with envy. A knot of leather-clad bikers loitered out front; they hastily cleared a spot for her. Her name was Jeanie O’Hare, but she preferred to go by Honey Bunny. No timid cottontail, she: of Texas jackrabbit extraction, she was wild and she was dangerous, on her bike and off. Males dissed her and her powerful kickboxing feet at their peril.

The Calhoun boys waited outside for her arrival, also per usual. Nate and Donny – better known in their pack as Nipper and Yipper – had a standing bet with Honey. “Tonight’s the night,” Nipper said to his brother. “Tonight we score.”

“In your dreams.” Honey grinned. They always forgot just how sharp a hare’s hearing could be. She lifted off her helmet and shook out her flowing blonde tresses. Every male in the parking lot zeroed in on the performance. Let ‘em look, she thought. Some lucky pup would get to do more than look tonight. She loved to get down and dirty, and always with a carnivore … or two. Hoppin’ and boppin’ with a partner who might eat her at any second added spice to the encounter.

But first they had to earn their way into Honey’s bed. Every game had rules, and hers were tricky. But then, hares were tricky beasts. Probably why the Calhouns were so hot to land her. Tricks, hot sex, and no ties afterwards. What coyote could resist?

The boys confronted her right outside the door. “We want another rematch,” Nipper said.

“First give me some sugar.” Honey dug her fingers into Nipper’s thick black hair and dragged his head down to hers in a scalding kiss. He lived up to his nickname by nibbling on her lip. Yipper shouldered in next. He was a tongue man, and plunged his dipstick down her throat like he was checking for oil. She wouldn’t mind a roll in the briar patch with either of them. But the game came first.

“You know the rules, boys,” she said. “We race to the old logging road and back. I win, I laugh in your face. You win, you’ve got my full attention for the evening. Who’s it going to be, Nip? You or your brother?”

“Screw that,” Nipper said. “Yip’s riding, but when he wins, you get both of us. We’ll work out the logistics afterwards.”

She studied them both doubtfully. “I don’t know, boys. Think you can keep up?”

“You’ve never been with a coyote, have you?”

“I meant your ride, boys. If all you’ve got is some little putt-putt, why should I even mount up?”

The coyotes sniffed indignantly and showed her their bike. It was only a Yamaha, scrawny as a geek next to her burly Harley, but it looked clean, and Honey knew Yipper had a magic touch with engines. Among other things. Leave it to these randy boys to pull in a ringer on her.

“All right, you’ve got yourself a race, but not until I’m ready. I came to hear the band. Which one of you gentlemen wants to escort me?”

“We’re coyotes,” Nipper said. “That pretty much scotches the gentlemen part. But hey, I’ll spring for drinks.”

I’ll bet you will, Honey thought with a mental smirk. Coyotes had a rep for playing fast and loose with the rules. Well, so did she. She stuck to the non-alcoholic side of the drink list. Wouldn’t do to get tipsy with these two around. With coyotes, you had to keep on your toes.

She did allow Nipper to hang all over her on the dance floor, even during the fast numbers. He was one hot cutie and damn, was he limber. Same for his blondie brother. Someday, she mused, it might be worth her while to throw the race and take a Calhoun for a test drive.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen Yipper for at least twenty minutes.

“He’s checking the bike,” Nipper assured her. “What? You think we’d pull something shady?”

“In a heartbeat, sweetie.”

Nipper just shrugged and grinned at her. Seconds later Yipper horned in and finished the dance with her. He wasted no time in groping her ass. “There’s no cottontail back there,” she informed him.

“Just warning up for later.”

“We’ll see.” The music ended. “In fact, let’s see right now.”

Back in the parking lot Honey inspected her ride. It seemed untouched. Yipper strapped on his helmet and mounted up. Honey hopped onto the Harley’s seat. “Give me some sugar,” she ordered Nipper. “Just in case Yipper gets lucky.”

“You’re getting us both,” he reminded her, before he kissed her hard. He gave her a nip on her neck in lieu of a good luck. While he had her distracted Yipper kickstarted his Yamaha and roared off down the road.

“Oh, no fair,” she said on a laugh. Like it made any difference. Her mechanic dad had taught her everything he knew, and she’d picked up more on the road. There wasn’t a cycle in all of Montana that could outrun the Big Bopper. She revved the engine, confident she’d catch him in five minutes, ten at the most.

Nothing happened.

No growl of engines, no vibrations, nothing. Her bike made a whimper and just sat there. She was still sitting there with Nipper laughing beside her when Yipper pulled into the lot twenty minutes later. “Hey, where you been? I missed you.”

Honey hopped off the Bopper. “What did you do?”

Yipper and Nipper exchanged grins. “Well, you’re always demanding sugar from us.”

“So we gave you some.”

“In your gas tank.”

“Nothing in your rules says a race is cancelled just because a bike won’t start. Guess I won. Or we won. Or you won. Win win win.”

She looked from one to the other and started to laugh. She could get used to coyotes. “You’re paying for that engine.”

“Worth it,” they chorused.

“I’ve already got a room,” Nipper added. “In the morning we’ll flip a coin, see who calls AAA and who gets to take you to breakfast.”

“And between now and then?”

The coyotes leered at her. Honey leered back. Looked like she was in for a night of hard riding after all, and she wouldn't have it any other way.