Alex followed Angie into the shed-like building, hair standing on end and growling. Kyle stirred slowly as they got closer.<br/><br/>“Ow…” he said weakly in a wild understatement of the pain he was in. “That sucked,” he added with a touch of self-deprecating humor. The dog circled around him looking intently for an intruder, but none surfaced. Eventually she returned to sniff Kyle and lick his face with a whimper.<br/><br/>“No, no one’s in here. I don’t think,” Kyle said as he pushed some of the 2x4s off of him.  With Angie’s help he was able to shed the rest and get to his feet, though he leaned on her heavily in the process. He smiled at her through the pain as he rose.<br/><br/>“Good thing you were here – or I’d be dead meat,” he said, perhaps exaggerating the seriousness of the situation. Either way he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze in thanks before leaning in for a kiss. After that he stood up and stretched out a little to test his arms and legs. Everything seemed to be working.<br/><br/>“Shaken but not stirred,” he said of himself. “Just the way I like my martinis. Ok, I think that’s enough fun in the shed for now,” he added, taking her hand in his and walking away slowly. In the process, he did his best to mask a slight limp.<br/><br/>“So are you happy now?” he asked his dog, who did not respond but appeared visibly relieved.<br/><br/>“Let’s get breakfast cleaned up and get out of here,” he added, turning back to Angie. “You like motorcycle rides? No need to shower first – we can just throw on clothes and go,” he added with a wink but no further explanation other than to say “…trust me on this.”<br/><br/>Once breakfast was over he fed the dog and let her out one last time before locking up. Alex stayed home when no one else was around, since guarding the unfinished home was her primary responsibility. Nonetheless Alex watched the two of them leave with a sad expression from the kitchen window.<br/><br/>Kyle led Angie by the hand across the yard to another shed used as a vehicle garage. He rolled up the steel door to reveal a gleaming, classic-looking Harley-Davidson softtail deluxe motorcycle, which included a seat for a rider in the back. The bike was a showcase of polished chrome and glossy black body paint. Clearly the device was well taken care of – if not adored by its owner.<br/><br/>“You in?” he asked again. “Have you ever ridden before?”