‘Not really, Eva! It’s more coz I ride a Harley, and the blokes I work with reckon I get a grumpy look on my face when I ride.’ ‘Oh, you ride ... motorbike too?’ She sounded dismayed. ‘Well, don’t let it put you off me or anything,’ he said hastily. ‘I just love the freedom of the wind in my face, the freedom to go where I want.’ He watched her face. ‘Oh!’ She sipped her coffee, then admitted, ‘I sort of always wanted to ride on a bike, but dad said that men on bikes have no respect for ladies!’. "No. I'll tell you at lunch."At least this time we both walked into the lunchroom on our own feet, and second day traffic was lighter. Even so the entrance to the barfeteria was still pretty jammed and we got a lot of looks. By the end of the week things'd smooth out.Since we'd both brown-bagged it we only had to do the drink line. As we got sorted out at our usual tables I worried. How much I should tell the posse? I'd figured out Devers's reputation as "the devil" was useful to her. I didn't. More

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