Chris handled his own bike skillfully and safely, two things on which Morgan insisted. Neither of them had ever had an accident. There was a speeding ticket or two in their past, but police officers had let them go with a warning more often than they were actually ticketed.
After an hour and a half, Morgan spoke to Chris through the Bluetooth headsets in their helmets. "Turn off on Honey Springs."
Chris gave him a thumbs up in response and made the tight right turn onto the scenic road. It was a bit hilly at first, then smoothed out and Morgan found what he was looking for. "Pull off," he said to Chris, who acknowledged Morgan by stopping on the wide shoulder of the road.
Morgan stopped too and pulled off his helmet. Despite the cool weather, his forehead was sticky with sweat and the light breeze felt good. "Back here," he told Chris. They hadn't been out this way in some time, but Morgan was pretty sure there was a small dirt area just beyond the oleander bush up ahead.
They pushed the bikes another few feet and came upon the open space that was concealed from the main road. Morgan and Chris hit their kickstands and parked the bikes, then both of them unzipped their jackets and let the wind cool them down.
"I forgot this was here," Chris said thoughtfully. He put his hands on his hips and turned in a slow circle. "Isn't there a..." The sentence trailed off and Chris arched a brow at Morgan.
Morgan grinned and started down a barely-there path that led into the high grasses. He knew Chris was referring to the long-forgotten picnic table that sat abandoned in a little clearing.
There it was, just around the curve of the giant palm. They'd stopped to eat lunch here once, but that had been several years ago and Morgan had almost forgotten it. The old, peeling table was still here.
"Remember?" Morgan asked. Chris had come up behind him and Morgan could feel Chris' breath warm in his ear.
"I remember." Christopher slid his backpack off one shoulder and placed it on the bench. "But we didn't bring lunch."
"That's not why we stopped."
Chris approached Morgan from the front. His eyes twinkled and he shrugged out of his jacket, then helped Morgan to do the same. "I know."
Their motorcycle jackets were not exactly as soft as a blanket, and there was the hard elbow padding to deal with, but they were better under Morgan's back than the splintery wood of the table. And with Chris on top of him, Morgan didn't care what was under him, really.