Still, when the bell rang, I raced to the door like my feet were on fire, never more eager to see a gray-haired old geezer in my life. I swung it open and gaped. Instead of the old doctor, a woman stood on the porch. She was gorgeous in a bad girl kind of way, though the fine creases around her eyes put her at roughly my age or a few years older. Clad in head-to-toe leather, her long, dark hair was wild and windblown. I would never have recognized her had it not been for the motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm.
