The Loss Between Us

by Brooke McBride

  “She? Are you serious?”

  “Heck yeah. I’m looking for Shirley, Jr. It can’t just be any bike. I need to feel a connection to her.”

  I mutter “boys and their toys” under my breath as we exit his truck and walk up to the counter to buy a ticket. I reach into my wallet, but before I can pull it out, I feel Nash’s hand on my arm.

  “That's okay, I got it. I’m the one that dragged you here.”

  I think too hard and too long about him touching me. His palm is warm and callused. He slowly slips it away, and I remember what I was going to say. “No you don't. I got it. You're ahead on coffee, so let me get this.”

  “Jensen, this is way more than coffee.”

  “Nash, stop. I’m taking your advice. This is what friends do, right? And I think we both know I need a friend. Just let me, okay?”

  He relents and as we come around the corner, I’m shocked at the view before me. Every make, model, color and size of motorcycle is in this arena. There is so much chrome, I need sunglasses. Nash doesn’t agree with me, according to his face. His eyes have glazed over, and he looks like a prosecutor who has just been told the defendant will take the plea deal. A mix of awe, contentment and satisfaction. A laugh rises in my stomach, but it comes out as a snort.

  “What?”

  “You look like a cat in catnip heaven.”

  He nudges me with his shoulder and says, “Shut up.”

  I shake my head. “So, where do you want to start?”

  “Let's just go in a circle. I don't want to miss anything.”

  Chapter 9

  We stroll down the aisle on our right. I’ve never seen a man walk so slowly. I can see the wheels in his head spinning, taking it all in. We don’t do a lot of talking. I’m not sure what he’s searching for, so I just look around and try to learn something—anything—about the fascination he seems to be experiencing.

  We come across two that Nash seems particularly interested in. Before we can fully make our way into the booth, the salesman is on him like cream cheese on a bagel.

  “Well, hello there. You look like a fella in the market.”

  Nash plays it cool. Although I’m not sure he ever plays it any other way. He walks in a circle around the bike with his hands behind his back. “Maybe.”

  I follow his lead.

  The salesman smiles. “Well, we’ve got a couple of beauties here.” I bend down and pretend to check out something on the motorcycle as the salesman continues. “But from the look of it, you’re no stranger to beautiful things.” Glancing up, I watch as Nash glares at him with his eyebrows pulled in and follows the guy’s line of sight as it then lands on me, bent over, looking underneath the bike. Everything happens quickly after that. Nash stalks toward the salesman and grabs the collar of his cheap button-down.

  “What the hell did you just say?” Nash’s voice is tight and controlled. But the rest of him is like a wild animal.

  The salesman’s feet come off the floor, and his arms grip Nash’s as he speaks in a hushed tone. I rush over and knock Nash off balance, forcing him to release the salesman.

  “Nash, stop!” My hands push back on his chest, and I’m having a hard time understanding how so much muscle could be concealed under his shirt. His chest rises and falls, but his eyes never leave the salesman.

  “He owes you an apology.”

  I glance over my shoulder and watch the salesman swallow and straighten his tie. “It’s fine. Let’s just go.” I push against Nash, but he still doesn’t move.

  “You heard me.” Nash’s hard eyes are focused directly on the salesman. My hands rest on his chest which is still sharply rising and falling. I’m ashamed and uncomfortable, so I slowly remove them, but Nash steps forward again. “Don’t make me say it again.”

  “All right, all right. I’m sorry. I was just trying to pay your lady a compliment. No need to get all bent out of shape about it.” Nash glances at me, but neither of us correct the guy about me not being Nash’s lady. “I’m sorry, okay? Now, how about we try to make a sale here?”

  I spend too much time dwelling on being called someone else’s. Growing up, I never thought I would be that kind of girl. And I didn’t think I was, until after Jeff was gone and I realized that I no longer belonged to anyone. It was one of the things I missed most.

  Nash smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He strides toward the salesman, who retreats a few steps and glances to me as if I can protect him. Nash gets within four inches of his face and says, “I wouldn’t buy anything from you if you were the last salesman in this room. Next time, think about how you treat a woman. That’s someone’s daughter, someone’s wife….” And then he stops and looks at me before lowering his head with a sigh. He runs his fingers through his hair and mutters a profanity as he walks away, guiding me out of the booth with his hand at the small of my back. And suddenly, I’m reminded of something else I miss about Jeff.

  Chapter 10

  We walk in silence for several minutes, nudging between several women in skimpy bikinis. I don’t realize I’m staring until Nash tugs on my arm. His eyes are wounded as he walks to the side of the aisle and I follow. People of all shapes and sizes walk past us as I wait for him to say something. He rubs the back of his neck and finally says, “I’m sorry I lost my temper back there.”

  I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had someone stick up for me before like that. Jeff was protective, but his blood didn’t run as hot as Nash’s. If that had happened to me with Jeff around, he would have gotten me out of the situation first and then commented on what an idiot the guy was later. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not. I…look…” He sighs again. “It’s been a while since I’ve lost my temper like that. But when I saw him looking at you like that… I—I don’t know. I felt the need to protect you.”

  Protect me? My stomach knots itself up. I don’t know what else to say but what I already said, so I say it again.

  “It’s okay.” I doubt I’ve convinced him, but I want to move on.

  Nash must sense my hesitation because he says, “We can go if you want. I’m sure this isn’t what you had in mind today for our little outing.”

  “No, please.” I don’t want to leave, and as hard as it is to admit to myself, it has nothing to do with the bike show. “You said you needed help, right?”

  “Yeah, but I ruined the day. Let me just take you home.” He moves around me and turns to walk away, but I grab his arm. His eyes briefly close, and as he opens them, he steps toward me. I let my hand drift back toward my body.

  “I don’t want to go home, Nash. It’s my choice, right?”

  That little-boy grin creeps back on his face. “I may have created a monster here.”

  I grin too. “You brought me to negotiate. You haven’t seen nothing yet.” I feel him fall in step behind me as we move back down the aisle. As he does, the tension drifts away and the comfortable silence returns. As he takes the lead, I fall in step behind him. He checks on me occasionally making sure I’m keeping up, but in all honesty, I couldn’t pull away even if I wanted to. Nash brings a sense of security that I haven’t felt in a long time.

  As we come to the end of the second aisle, Nash slows and then stops altogether. I come up beside him and feel the heat radiating from him. He whispers, “That’s her.”

  I follow his line of sight to what looks like every other bike in this joint. He said he would know when he saw her, so obviously there’s something different about this one. The salesman spots us, so I kick into negotiation mode. “Play it cool. You start by asking the questions you want answered and then follow my lead.”

  We make our way into the booth and casually look around. Finally, the salesman approaches Nash. “You in the market?”

  Nash pauses several beats and then says, “Might be.”

  “I see. Well, we’ve got a lot of great deals today, so I’m sure we have something you’re interested in.” The salesman follows Nash like a little puppy. Nash looks at
several bikes, asking questions here and there, and then stops at the one he’s interested in. “Now this one is fresh off the line.”

  Nash tries to stay quiet, nodding his head. He makes it all of three seconds before diving in. “What’s her horsepower?”

  “122 with eighty-six pounds of torque. It’s also got our new security fob that arms and disarms it as you walk away.”

  Nash leans down, and a small smile starts to form on his lips. I realize why he brought me. The guy can’t bluff to save his life. I’m up.

  I walk up to the bike and start examining it myself. “You’re not considering this blue one, are you?” Nash glances over his shoulder and then stands up. His eyes dart to me and then to the salesman.

  “We can order it in pretty much any color you want, ma’am.” The salesman is talking so fast I barely understand him.

  I step in front of Nash, forcing him to back up a few steps, “Is that so? Well, I want purple. Does it come in purple?”

  “Purple?” The salesman peeks at Nash over my head.

  “Don’t look at him. This is as much my bike as much as it is his. What, you think because he’s the man, he has all the say?”

  “No, no! I just…I guess I uh…wanted to see what he thought of purple.”

  Nash steps forward, and his chest brushes my back. “If she’s happy, I’m happy.”

  Goosebumps travel down my arms as Nash’s breath caresses my neck. I ignore both his statement and his proximity to me by circling the bike like a shark. I run my hands across the smooth leather of the seat before throwing my leg over and sitting down. I’m off in three seconds flat. “I don’t like it. Let’s move on.”

  Nash stares at me but doesn’t move. I wave my hands in front of his face. “Hello? Did you hear me? I don’t like it. I like the purple one we looked at earlier.”

  “Ummm.” Lovely. Nash has gone stupid on me.

  The salesman violently flips through a catalog before finally stopping. “Ma’am, it comes in burgundy. How about burgundy?”

  I want to throw him off his game a little, so I walk closer to him and he leans away, gaping at Nash like he’s afraid of me. Good. “I take it you’re not married. Because anyone who was married and had a woman in their life would know their colors, and burgundy is not purple.”

  “No of course it isn’t. But this is an amazing bike, and I wouldn’t let color get in the way of…”

  “Of what, my happiness?” I shift back to Nash, who is still dumbfounded. I wink at him now that my back is to the salesman, and realization drifts across his face. “Do you believe this guy?”

  Nash steps toward me and runs his hand down my arm before grabbing my hand. “I think you’re being a little harsh on him. He’s just saying that the ride isn’t necessarily about the color of the bike.”

  Now I’m the one that’s dumbfounded. I pray that Nash didn’t feel the goosebumps he left on my arm as he was running his hand down it. I pull away, needing some distance, and make my way back over to the bike. “I get that. But this one isn’t as pretty as the other one we looked at.” Nash walks around, looking at the bike and holding his chin in his hand. He then mounts the bike, and all the air leaves my lungs. It never dawned on me how good he looks on a bike. I can’t have that image in my head, so I look away and focus back on the negotiating.

  “What’s the fuel capacity?” I don’t even listen to what this guy is telling me, but I’m trying to act more and more displeased with everything he says. I don’t know enough about bikes to ask any more questions, so Nash finally takes over. For every two of the three answers the salesman gives, I find something to complain about and keep going back to the fictional purple hog that I’m supposedly in love with.

  Finally, after twenty minutes of questions and answers, I can tell Nash is starting to lose his patience. It’s time to talk numbers. I mount the bike one more time, trying to act a little more interested so this guy will start to work with us. I feel the handle bars in my grip and fantasize about what it might be like to drive one of these. I then force myself to focus. “He obviously likes this one, but I still like the other one, so what’s the best you can do?”

  “You know, I like you. You’re one of those take-charge kind of women, and I admire that. She’s something, isn’t she?” He angles toward Nash and smiles.

  Nash crosses his arms and leans back on another bike before saying, “She asked you a question.”

  “Right. So, the best I can do on this one is nineteen.”

  I watch Nash smile, and thankfully the salesman is looking for my reaction. I immediately shake my head and dismount the bike. “No way. For that kind of money, I want the purple one.”

  Nash’s eyes morph into bowling balls and he shakes his head in just the slightest way so it’s barely noticeable. I wink at him again, and he takes a deep breath then stands upright. “Okay.”

  He starts to walk away when the salesman yells, “Wait. Okay, okay. I can do better. What if I also throw in a cover and an extra twelve months of warranty coverage?”

  Nash’s back is to the salesman, but he’s facing me and a grin develops on his face like he’s just won the lottery. Before he can agree, I say, “Take $2,000 off, and you’ve got yourself a deal.” Nash’s smile fades, but I give him a stern look and watch him hold his breath.

  The salesman sighs. “I need to get a manager’s approval for that.”

  My eyes never leave Nash’s. “Okay. We’ll wait.”

  “All right, I’ll be back.” He pulls his cell phone out and walks behind a table where a computer is set up.

  Nash glows at me and whispers, “I knew I brought you for a reason.”

  “Really?” I flutter my eyes at him in a dramatic way. “I thought it was for my charming personality.”

  “That too. I think he’s as low as he’ll go.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I took a chance. Sometimes you have to walk away for people to realize what they’re missing.”

  Nash continues to glow. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  The salesman walks toward us, and I move away from Nash to put some distance between us. “You have a deal. But there’s a minor problem.”

  Nash asks, “What’s that?”

  “We don’t have stock on that particular bike right now, and there’s a six-week delay.”

  Nash curves around and smiles at me. “That’s okay. Most good things in life are worth the wait.”

  Heat rises to my cheeks, and without my approval, my body responds with an instinctive smile. I’m not sure what he meant by that comment, but my body, my soul, and my heart all seem to be on the same page, and they all approve. It’s my mind that is drawing a pause. Nash continues facing me without looking at the salesman and says, “And I got the lady to agree on black. So before you write it up, make sure you get the color right.”

  The salesman walks over with a clipboard and asks, “While we’re doing a custom order, are you interested in an adjustable suspension, since I’m assuming you’ll ride it without her sometimes?”

  I want to correct the salesman and tell him that I won’t be riding it at all, but I can’t seem to form the words on my lips. Nash glances at me, and his face lights up with joy. “That’s a great idea. Let’s go ahead and add that feature.” He says.

  “It’s another $1,000.”

  Nash winks at me. “That’s fine. She’s worth it.” He turns back to the salesman. “Where do I sign?”

  I’m thankful he moved away from me. I’m having a hard time processing what I’m currently feeling. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Luckily, Nash takes several minutes to sign all of the paperwork, and I have some time to myself.

  He finally comes toward me and sticks the paperwork in his back pocket. “What?”

  I smile at him. “You seem pretty excited.”

  “Absolutely. Even if I have to wait a little longer.”

  “I hope you didn’t add that feature thinking you would guilt me into getting on that thing.” I al
so hope he didn’t add it for someone else. I immediately regret the thought.

  “Jensen, I don’t know a lot about you…yet. One thing I do know is you’re stubborn.” He takes a step forward, then another until he hovers over me. His voice lowers, and it’s more rugged when he says, “I also know that I will get you on that bike, come hell or high water.”

  I want to argue with him and tell him he’s wrong. But I’m no longer convinced he is. I don’t know why I’m drawn to what he wants me to do, but me on a motorcycle, with him, sounds so appealing that now I’m not sure I can wait the six weeks it will be before he can make that happen.

  Chapter 11

  We proceed through the arena, watching different demonstrations of the latest and greatest bike gadgets. Nash checks out a few things seriously. But he appears to be daydreaming and enjoying the high from his recent purchase.

  “How many bikes have you owned?”

  “Oh gosh...” He hesitates while he does the math in his head. “Eleven.”

  “Eleven?”

  “Yeah, but the other nine were junk that I rebuilt and then sold. The one I have now is on its last leg. Shirley Jr. will be my first one that is new.” We’re at the end of the last aisle in the convention center when Nash asks, “Wanna grab dinner?”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yeah. You’ve got to eat, right?”

  Something in the air has shifted, and my chest tightens. It feels wrong to be here, with another man. And to be considering eating dinner with him. I feel Nash’s hand on my arm.

  “Hey, where’d you go?”

  I pull away from him and say, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s hard to explain, Nash. It’s just that…I don’t know if it’s appropriate.”

  “Appropriate?” He squints at me and then takes a step back. “Okay, help me understand. What’s inappropriate about it?” I don’t respond, because I don’t know how to. Nobody tells you how to handle being a widow, and certainly no one tells you how to behave as one. The old--time rules of wearing black for a year are no longer a requirement. But I would prefer it because then there would be guidelines for me to follow. I don’t have those rules. But hanging out with a man I find attractive, less than a year after my husband died, screams inappropriateness. “Jensen?”