Chapter 4: The Biker

"...And then I was going on about how she's 'the perfect weight' because I didn't want her to think I thought she was fat! Which she isn't at all, by the way..."

"You told her what?" Wilson looked somewhat dumbfounded.

"I know."

"Why do you actually care what this particular patient thinks of you? You never care what anyone thinks of you."

"True."

"So, this girl is different because...?"

"I wish I knew. There's just something about her..."

Wilson smiled knowingly. "It's called infatuation."

House didn't deny it.

"This girl...what does she even do?"

House shrugged. "Don't know. Never asked."

"Why is she waiting around the hospital all day for test results that you could just phone her with? It's not like she has a serious condition and needs to stay here."

"Good question. The answer is obvious."

"Really. So enlighten me."

"She's into me. Attracted, I mean. Sexually."

"Right..." came the sarcastic reply. "Or maybe she just doesn't want to go home."

"Exactly. Doesn't want to go home because then she'd be away from me and all the exciting sexual tension and suave wit."

Wilson looked heavenward, as though for inspiration. "Where is she now?"

"In my office, waiting for me."

"Waiting for you to - dare I ask - do what?"

"Discuss her CT results, of course." House shook his head and tsked sarcastically. "I don't know what else you could have been imagining."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "And the CT results are...?"

"Completely normal. Still don't know why she lost her sense of smell." House got up off of Wilson's couch and stretched luxuriously.

"House, I'm a little confused here - where's your team?"

"Chase is on vacation and Foreman and Cameron are helping out at the clinic."

"Aren't you supposed to be at the clinic too?"

House shrugged. "Not if I have a case."

"And this is a case."

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"But your team's not on the case with you."

"Because I don't need them."

"Meaning, because you want this girl all to yourself since she's apparently hot and interesting, and because it's not really a case."

House headed for the door. "Pretty much sums it up."

"If Cuddy finds out about this you'll have extra clinic duty for a week."

"Good thing she's not gonna find out."

"What do you do?"

Startled by the voice behind her, Mallory jumped and guiltily dropped House's grey-and-red ball back on to his desk. She cringed as it knocked over a penholder and a paperweight. "What do I do? I pick up things from other people's desks and then try to wreak as much destruction with them as possible, obviously."

House ignored the scattered bits of oddment in the wake of the ball and sat down in his chair, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"But if you're talking vocationally, which I take it you are, I'm a school teacher. Grade four," she supplied before he could ask.

"And since this is the middle of July-" House began.

"Summer holidays," she finished for him.

"So, is it true what they say - 'the two best reasons for being a teacher are July and August'?"

Mallory grinned. "Sometimes. But no, not really. I love my job. It's so rewarding when you see the kids figure out a difficult problem or catch on to something new."

House nodded absentmindedly, admiring Mallory's dazzling white smile and the sparkle in her eyes as she talked about teaching fourth grade. After awhile the smile disappeared and the sparkly eyes took on a look of concern. She was waiting expectantly.

"Must have asked a question," House realized. He nodded and flipped open a manilla folder on his desk. "You'll be happy to know your CT results are completely normal. You don't have a brain problem."

"Whew." Mallory leaned back in her chair and blew out a long breath like a deflating balloon. She smiled weakly. "Well, that's a relief!"

House nodded. "However, we still don't know what's causing the anosmia."

"And if it's temporary or permanent."

"Right."

Mallory bit her lower lip and turned her head away. She pressed one delicate hand to her mouth and blinked hard.

"Do you like motorbikes?"

"What?" Mallory looked up, startled. The question was so out-of-the-blue that she forgot she'd been about to cry.

"Motorbikes. Want to ride on one?"

"Um...okay. Sure. Where to? Why?"

"Your house."

"My house?"

"Yup. Thought we could check for environmental causes for your anosmia."

"Oh. My house might be a bit messy though - maybe I should go and tidy up first."

"Nope."

"No?"

"I want to see it as it is."

"Oh."

"How do you get here today?"

"Took a bus."

"Perfect. Then you won't have to worry about picking up your car later."

Mallory sat the bike easily - with the ease of long experience, House noted, very much surprised. She balanced so naturally it was like he didn't even have a passenger behind him. That illusion was enhanced by the fact that she wasn't holding on to him at all. House had kind of been hoping that she would hold on. He'd thought she seemed attracted to him. If so, then why wouldn't she take the opportunity to hang on? It would be a perfectly reasonable excuse to touch him. Had his impression been wrong? No, he decided. Was it pride, then? Did she think he'd be impressed by her poise? He was impressed, at that, but he decided that that wasn't it either. It occurred to him that maybe she wanted him to make the first move. Yes, that was it, he decided. An old-fashioned sort of girl.

"You can hold on to me if you want," he said casually over his shoulder as they waited for a red light to turn green. "In case we have to brake suddenly or something," he added.

"Oh, um, okay."

"That didn't take much convincing," House thought. He felt his pulse quicken slightly as the slender hands came to rest on his waist. Then the light changed and they were off again.

A/N: In progress. Sorry it took so long to post this chapter. All reviews welcome!