by Skye Jordan
All thoughts of just passing by fled. She slowed and pulled into the dirt lot beside the building and parked between a touring BMW coupe and a 1990s Ford F150 that had seen better days. A fluorescent Help Wanted sign hung in the front window, and the building was surrounded with motorcycles of all kinds, lined up like soldiers. Inside the garage bay, three bikes sat in various states of deconstruction.
Ava shut down the engine, and the tranquility seemed to swallow her whole. Silence, broken only by the tweet of a bird, filled her head. She blew out a breath, relishing the peace, but nerves of a whole different kind bubbled in her belly.
This wasn’t her. She didn’t chase guys. Certainly not guys who owned garages in the country and hung at biker bars. But she wasn’t who she’d used to be either. She didn’t want anything to do with dating another suit, a man who loved her father, her father’s money, or his company more than he loved her. And right now, she didn’t even want a man who loved her. She didn’t want obligation or promises or even a future.
Ava might not know exactly what she did want, but she was very clear on what she didn’t want. And right now, that was a start.
She stood from the car and looked around as she wandered toward the open garage bay.
“Hey there.” A male voice pulled her gaze back to the parked cars. Someone put a hand out the window of the BMW coupe and waved. “You lookin’ for Isaac?”
She took off her sunglasses, folded the arms, and tucked one in the vee of her blouse, approaching the BMW with a smile. “Hi. Yeah.” She stuck her thumbs in the pockets of her cutoffs and smiled at the man in the car. He was attractive and in his forties. “Is he around?”
“In the office, interviewing.” He pointed to the shop and the Help Wanted sign.
“Ah, okay. Are you waiting to talk to him too?”
He grinned. “Yeah, but not for the job.”
She gestured to his car. “I sorta figured.”
He laughed. “We’re gonna look through some bike catalogues and mix and match me a new bike.”
“That sounds exciting.”
“Spice of life, that’s for sure.”
“No doubt.” Isaac had certainly been the spice of her life. “I’ll just wander until he’s free. I promise not to steal your place in line.”
Ava started toward the garage with a smile. He was here. That was half the battle.
Inside the open bay, a phone rang, echoing in the space. The garage was ridiculously well organized and surprisingly clean. Even the bikes that were in pieces had their parts laid out in a very orderly way. All the surfaces shone, the floor wore a clean, textured finish, and all the cabinets looked freshly painted.
Ava was officially impressed.
The phone stopped ringing as she neared the office door, and a woman’s voice filled the void for only a moment before the phone started ringing again.
Ava picked up the woman’s monologue inside the office, “…so, see, I’m ADHD on accounta my momma bein’ on the pipe while I was in her belly. But it don’t affect me none. Nope, my daddy always said I’m sharp as a tack. And tacks are sharp. You ever step on one of those things?”
Ava froze beside a row of cabinets and open counter space. Her brow creased. Head tilted. If she hadn’t known Isaac was with someone, Ava would have thought he was watching a sitcom.
The phone went quiet again.
“I’m sure they are.” The sound of Isaac’s deep voice created a warm river down the center of her chest. “Can you tell me about your work at…what’s this third one on the list? I can’t read your writing—”
“That there’s Walmart.”
“Right, and what did you do at Walmart?”
“Well, I started off as a greeter, and that went real well, seein’ as I know everyone in town. Then I got promoted to stock clerk. And that sucked because every time you straightened a shelf, a customer would come right behind you and mess it up. I’d just stock my little heart out, and the next day, I’d come back and the shelves would be empty. And when I told them that made me mad, they fired me. Best for all of us.”
Ava bit her lip against a laugh.
“Uh-huh,” Isaac replied. “So, great. Thanks for coming in.” The phone started ringing again. “Excuse me. I need to get that.”
“I don’t mean to be pushy or nothin’, but does this job come with health benefits? See, I have asthma, and I’ve got to get to the doctor twice a week for shots, not to mention my inhalers. And my kids, they’re always comin’ down with bronchitis or pneumonia—”
“Sorry, I’ve really got to…” He stepped out of the office, striding toward a phone on the opposite wall. The sight of him made Ava’s heart knock against her chest, then speed into a quick patter, matching the flutter in her stomach.
His black T-shirt clung to wide shoulders, a muscled back, and trim waist. His tan cargo pants had greasy finger swipes on the thighs, and his dark hair was mussed. He grabbed the phone. “Reviv—” Exhaling hard, he slammed the phone down with a quiet “Goddammit.”
He spun and took one step toward the office before lifting his gaze. His eyes homed in on Ava, and his feet stopped dead.
Ava’s heart skipped, then beat doubly hard. Damn, he was ridiculously hot. Even hotter than her memories.
She smiled, forced herself to relax. “Hey.”
“Ava.” He glanced outside where the waiting customer stood by the BMW. Another car pulled up, an ancient Toyota Corolla with rust eating at the seams. “Jesus.” He put his hands at his hips and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now.” He waved at the man. “Joe. Come on in.”
He took a few more steps toward Ava and scanned her from head to toe. His eyes darkened, his jaw pulsed. Ava wasn’t sure if that was hunger or anger, but either way, the look added gasoline to Ava’s fire.
Then everyone converged on them at once—the woman he’d been interviewing came out of the office, Joe, a potential customer, started into the garage, and so did another woman waving an application.
“Let me help,” Ava said to Isaac in a low voice. “I know nothing about bikes, but I’ve become an expert at interviewing. You work with Joe, I’ll take care of the applicants. Just tell me what position you’re filling.”
He closed his eyes on a heavy breath. “I’d take someone who could answer the fucking phone on a regular basis at this point.”
The ring of the phone punctuated Isaac’s frustration.
Isaac growled and turned toward it again. Ava caught his arm. “I’ll get it. You talk to Joe.”
She turned to the woman who’d just been interviewed and offered her hand. “I’m Ava. I’ll have Isaac give you a call once all the interviews have been finished. Thank you so much for your time.” She walked that woman to the door and turned toward the one approaching. “I’ll be right with you.” Then she spun and picked up the phone. “Revival, how can I help you?”
“Hi,” a woman said. “I’m callin’ ’bout that job posting in the window.”
“Great, can you give me your name and number? I’m with someone, but I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” She scribbled it down and hung up. When she turned to the woman waiting for an interview, she found Isaac and Joe staring at her. She shooed them away with a laugh. “Go, do your thing. I promise not to burn the place down.”
She offered her hand to the applicant. “Hi, I’m Ava. I’m helping Isaac out today.”
8
Isaac had to fight to keep his attention on the catalogues spread out on his desk. He’d been taking notes while he and Joe discussed options of piecing together a custom bike, but he kept jumping when the phone rang. Only, it never rang more than once before Ava picked it up, and she must have gone through three more interviews by now, judging by the parade of women through the shop.
But all Isaac could think about was the sight of Ava walking into his garage, torn cutoffs showing her long legs, a loose, flowy top hanging off one shoulder, and cowboy boots. She’d braided her long hair into o
ne tail and had aviator sunglasses clipped between her breasts.
Fuckin’ edible.
He flexed and clenched his hands to ease the need to feel her.
She hadn’t bothered them in over an hour. But people had come and gone. The phone had rung at least a dozen times. And Isaac still had no idea why she was here. Either for more sex or…for more sex. He didn’t mind the sex—hell, he craved it—but for the first time since Jeremy died, he wanted more with a woman. He wanted to talk with her. Get to know her. See who’d she’d become. She’d certainly grown out of the shy girl with her nose in a book.
But if he were honest with himself, he knew she was here for more backcountry biker sex, not for Isaac. All of Isaac. He didn’t want to care. He wanted to give her what she’d come for, then happily send her back to that rat pack in New York.
“Isaac?” Joe said.
“Huh?” He refocused. “Oh yeah. Looks like we’ve narrowed it down to two categories. If you want to go with a Harley, shoot for the touring styles in your price range, like the Road Glides or the CVOs. They’re compact, dependable, comfortable, and won’t have your ass draggin’ on the ground. But I know you like Beemers, and you can’t go wrong with one of their K models. We’d buy either stripped down, then I’d customize every detail just the way you want it.”
“Sounds good.” He stood. “Can I take a few of these to show Suzie?”
In the distance, the rumble of multiple Harleys touched Isaac’s ear. And in his mind’s eye, Isaac saw the Steel Warriors finding Ava in his shop looking like their next meal. His protective instincts flared. He pushed to his feet, collecting the catalogues.
“You bet.” He handed them to Joe as they exited the office. “Call me with any questions.”
His gaze traveled over the garage. He found Ava and a young interviewee perched on stools at a counter. Ava’s legs were crossed, one booted foot swinging, one hand twirling the end of her braid. Just the sight of her flooded him with all sorts of emotions—most of them circling around desire. Physical, mental, intellectual desire.
But she certainly wasn’t here for his brains or business savvy.
The phone rang, and Isaac’s stomach dropped. But without missing a beat, Ava said, “Excuse me,” answered the phone, took a message, and returned to her conversation.
Joe glanced at Isaac. “Can’t you just hire her?”
Isaac chuckled. “She’s already got a job.”
“Too bad.”
“Fortunate, actually.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I wouldn’t be able to concentrate with her around.”
Joe burst out laughing just as five Harleys thundered onto Isaac’s property. They slowed near the garage bay, and one of the guys jumped from the back of another bike. He pulled off his helmet while stalking toward Isaac, yelling over the idle of the bikes. “Wrench, my bike done?”
“Yeah.” He said good-bye to Joe and walked him out, meeting Grim at the bay opening. “She’s right here, ready to ride.”
Isaac steered the bike around to face Grim and found him staring at Ava and the woman she was interviewing.
“Is that the tease from Grind?” he asked.
Isaac dropped the stand and let the bike lean into it. “She’s not a tease, and you won’t see her at Grind again.”
Grim gave him a lopsided I-know-better grin. “You claimin’ her, you wingnut?”
“Damn right.” He smacked the keys to the Suzuki into Grim’s hand. “Tell your boys she’s off-limits.”
Grim chuckled. “Your funeral. A woman like that might be fun to take for a spin, but the high maintenance gets old real fast. I’ll tell the others, but if she steps into Grind again without you, that makes her fresh meat. And I know a few guys who wanted a taste real bad.” He pulled Isaac’s hand up and smacked a wad of twenties into it. “That ought to cover the clutch.”
With their brother on wheels, the gang steered back onto the road and disappeared around the bend. The rumble faded on the warm air.
Ava finished up her interview and escorted the other woman out to her car. Isaac leaned a shoulder against the open garage door watching her move, relishing the sheer, curvy grace of her. She returned to the garage and waited there at Isaac’s side in silence while the woman got into her beat-up Toyota and drove away.
As soon as the sound of their engines faded, Isaac exhaled and let his shoulders drop. “Do you hear that?”
She crossed her arms and listened for a second. “What?”
“Silence.”
She laughed, a light bubbly sound that made him smile. “Your buddies want you to go on a ride with them?”
“They aren’t exactly buddies, and they were here to pick up a bike.”
“You all seemed tight at the bar.”
“Work acquaintances.” He glanced at her shiny black Lexus coupe, pimped to the gills. “Nice ride.”
She lifted her shoulder with a smirk. “For a car, right?”
“For a car,” he agreed with a reluctant grin.
He didn’t like the Warriors knowing she was here. Hated knowing other members had an interest in her. Loathed the fact he didn’t own her as he’d led Grim to believe. She was free to go back to Grind and get it on with any dirty biker she chose.
Forcing that from his mind, he offered an easy “Thanks for helping out. You saved my ass.”
“Business is good.”
“It would be better if I could clone myself. Any decent candidates?”
“For cloning? Hardly. As a receptionist?” She made a noncommittal sound in her throat. “They were all pleasant. They all seemed to have good intentions and good hearts.”
“But…?”
“I guess it depends on what you need and how badly you need it.”
All Isaac needed right now was Ava. And he needed her badly.
“I met with Charlotte, Jaime, Trixie, Lola, and Becky Rae while you were in the office,” Ava told him. “Charlotte is a single mom. She can only work from the time she drops her last kid at school until she picks the first one up, which totals about four hours a day.”
“I’m pretty needy. Four hours isn’t going to work.”
“Needy.” She grinned, and her tone teased. “That wasn’t exactly the description I would use.”
“What would you use?”
She met his gaze directly. “Demanding.”
Flashes of their sex by the lake clicked through his head. Ava naked, on her back, stretched out on his bike. Isaac driving his hips between her spread thighs, his hands covering hers on the handlebars above her head, his sweat dripping on her chest.
The whole atmosphere shifted. The air sizzled between them.
Her face flushed, and she looked away, fanning her cheeks with a weak laugh. “Wow, heat rush.”
“I’ll say,” he muttered, shifting on his feet to relieve the pressure on his cock’s growing girth.
“Jaime doesn’t have a car,” she continued, “so she depends on the bus. As she tells it, the bus schedule changes on a whim and depends on staffing. Your shop happens to be on one of the more obscure routes the city shuts down at the mere threat of snow or employee illness.”
“Lucky me.”
“Trixie is seven months pregnant—with her fourth child. And she was very open about future plans of getting pregnant again, as soon as this baby pops out. See, her baby daddy—of child two and child four—wants a baseball team of kids, and he, evidently, doesn’t particularly care who participates in creating that team. She also wants to know about health insurance, on accounta the maternity care she gets in the hospital on welfare ain’t fit for chickens.”
Isaac laughed. “She did not say that.”
“Swear on my momma’s grave.” Ava made the sign of the cross.
“Your momma’s not dead.”
“How do you know?”
For an instant, he considered telling her that he’d recently talked to his own mother, who’d confirmed Ava’s family was in perfect health—if not in th
eir right minds. He thought of telling her about their family connection and remind her of their Sunday-night dinners together as kids to prove to her he wasn’t a loser backwoods bike mechanic. But then what? She wasn’t here because she wanted Isaac Banks. She could get a newer, shinier version of Isaac Banks behind every office door in Manhattan. She was here because she wanted Isaac the backwoods bike mechanic. The one she believed hung with a dangerous biker gang.
“I don’t think you’d joke about that?” he answered.
She tilted her head. “How would you know?”
He shrugged. “Call it intuition.” He changed the subject. “Can’t wait to hear about Lola and Becky Rae.”
“Lola has a two-year associate’s degree from a junior college and a minister for a daddy.”
He lifted his brows. “Promising.”
“And those years she spent in prison were on accounta her daddy pulling her into an embezzlement scheme on the parishioners. How was she to know the money donated by the congregation for the less fortunate didn’t include their own family?”
“Oh my God, no,” he said. “Just no.”
“Yes, sir. Their congregation lives by the firm belief that charity begins at home.”
He rubbed his face with both hands, laughing. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He held up his hands. “Forget it. I’m done. The phone can ring. I’ll just ignore it.”
On cue, the phone started ringing. Ava automatically turned toward it. Isaac grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Pulled her all the way back until her body bumped his, then wrapped his arms low on her hips and held her against him.
“Let the machine get it,” he told her. “You haven’t told me about Becky Rae yet.”
She relaxed into his hold, and the feel of her body melting against his put a match to his gasoline. He slid his hands up her back, confirming what his body already knew: she wasn’t wearing a bra. And the freestyle way she felt against him made him hum with pleasure. “Did you come here commando, Miss Ava?”
