by Kate Swain
“So,” I said firmly. “The guys are having pizza for lunch today. It’s our tradition when we finish a custom bike here. I have the list of orders here…” I pulled out a grimy slip of paper from my pocket, where I’d recorded the wishes of three particularly picky eaters. “And I wanted to ask if you could call the order in and then pick it up when it’s ready. It’s just around the corner from here. I can’t go… I have to order some parts.” I looked through the window, avoiding looking directly at her.
“Sure,” she said again. When I looked down at her, she was reading the list. She was not interested in me and even seemed a little annoyed about the request. I got irritated interacting with her, but I fought those feelings down. Her ignoring me annoyed me more than when I was ignoring her. I wanted her to look at me, I realized. I wanted her attention and to be desired by her, and that made me feel ridiculous. I turned around and walked out of the office.
“Carter! Come and see,” Mark called to me. “We’ve taken the last bit of tape off the chrome. The bike looks mean.”
“Sure,” I said. He must have heard the flatness of my tone because he gave me an odd look.
I followed him into the shop.
“Look, boss,” Matthew said with a grin in my direction. “Smooth and even. Check out the detail. As good a job as I ever did.”
“And the handles were put on the right way this time,” Adam teased.
“Shut up, Adam,” Mark said good-naturedly. “You didn’t notice last time.”
They all laughed. I felt oddly on the edge of the group, watching their banter but unable to truly be a part of it.
“What is it?” Matthew asked me, sensing my discomfort. Matthew has always been like that. His intuition has always been strong and accurate.
“He’s in love,” Mark shot back. His eyes held mine, and the words and stare caught me off guard. “With Ms. Rose.”
“Now, don’t you start,” I said, feeling the need to distance myself from such ideas.
Mark just held my gaze, his eyes were hard. I was about to shift gears again when Matthew thankfully laughed.
“Carter, we can see there’s something between you and the receptionist. Why not admit it?”
“Yeah. She’s hot. We all think so,” Adam said frankly.
“You do?” I stared at all of them, shocked. What was I going to do if my entire business got distracted just because of a girl? I was about to tell them I regretted hiring her when Matthew spoke.
“There’s nothing wrong with looking. None of us would do anything.”
“No. We like her,” Mark said, and he made the words a challenge.
I breathed deeply. I didn’t want this to build up into an argument between them and me. I just shook my head. “Guys… let’s just let it go,” I said. “We can all agree that she’s an attractive woman.”
“At least you can see that. We often wonder about you, big brother,” Matthew said.
Mark whistled. Adam giggled.
The door opened. Amelia stepped in.
She looked at all of us with a concerned look on her face.
We all stopped dead. I could feel the blood draining from my face in shock, and Matthew hurriedly turned to clean a speck of dust off the Harley’s new paint job. Mark stood, grinning brightly. Adam went red and hurried to the shelves to put the tools away.
“Hi,” I made myself say. I was sure my face was stiff. My voice was frosty.
“I brought the food,” Amelia said. Her voice was shaky. I noticed at once, as I took the boxes from her, that her hands were shaking. Mark noticed it too.
“Amelia? You okay?” he asked. “Come on… you need to sit down.”
Taking her arm, he led her out and to her office. I followed, not knowing why. I could see that something had shaken her badly.
Waiting in my office, not wanting to look too interested, I hung about by the door. I could hear Mark talking to Amelia, and what she replied with confused me more.
“Are you okay, Amelia?” Mark said gently.
“Yes… I’m fine. I just saw something that shook me a little. Please, just give me five minutes.”
“Okay,” Mark said gently. “But… if you need anything, we’re here. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I heard the sound of boots on wood, and then the door shut. Mark had left. I waited. What had she seen, I wondered, that scared her?
I tiptoed out of my office and to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should go in or not. None of my business, I decided. I should just let her calm down and give her some space like Mark did.
I tiptoed past, and then I heard the sound of crying. It was coming from Amelia’s office. I couldn’t restrain myself anymore and, taking a big step, forgetting about my own feelings, I entered her office.
I did care.
8
Amelia
I sat at my desk after Mark left my office. I was shivering so badly that I could barely sit on my chair. I tried to regain my composure and shake the emotions pouring over me. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders and tried to stop shaking.
Come on, Amelia. You can do better than this.
I drew a long breath and tried to forget everything.
When I shut my eyes, the image of his face appeared again. As did his sinister leer that was part of his smile. Luke Lowry—mom’s creepy friend—had reappeared in my life in the parking lot of the pizza restaurant.
“Hey, Missy,” he greeted me. He always called me that. My stomach crawled.
“Look, Luke…” I shot back. “Please. Leave me alone.” The shock of seeing him there, in the last place where I’d expect to see him, was chilling. How did he find me?
“Hey. Aren’t you pleased to see me?” he inquired.
I looked around, but the restaurant had no windows on that side, and the parking lot was deserted. I was alone there and, even if I screamed, in the industrial area, who was going to bother? My stomach twisted.
“Please,” I whispered. “Leave me alone.” I walked away, trying to make it to the front door of the pizza restaurant.
“Amelia,” Luke said. He strode up to me. He was an inch away. I could smell the gel in his hair and the intensity of cheap aftershave. “You shouldn’t play hard to get like this, you know. I know you really like me.”
My stomach twisted, and I felt nauseous. “I don’t,” I whispered.
“What?” His eyes narrowed. “You’re lying. You know you do. I’m a nice guy. Come on.” He took my wrist, his fingers tight around it. “One day, you’re going to stop playing so hard to get.”
“Let me go,” I hissed.
I tried to wrench myself away, but his fingers were tight around my wrist and growing tighter by the second. I felt enough pain to know his grip would leave a bruise and I twisted away, pulling my hand free. A trick my ex-boyfriend, bless him, had taught me: twist your wrist so that the thumb-side lines up with the clasp of the fingers, making a thinner side with your wrist that can break the grip easier.
I broke free. I ran and made it to the front door.
I didn’t look to see if he’d followed me. I stood in line at the front desk.
“Ready to order?” a sweet voice asked.
“Yes.”
Once I had my orders, I hung around in the restaurant, waiting to see if he’d left. I could see the girl at the front desk watching me. I knew she was about to ask something, but I didn’t want to have to explain myself. She was younger than me, and frankly, I felt stupid. I wasn’t normally afraid of things, so why was I afraid of him?
Because he found me here, and I don’t know how.
I swallowed hard. Seeing him there, right in the middle of my new safe haven, was shocking. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I took a breath and headed outside. A pause on the step, the food boxes in my hands, showed me that he wasn’t on this side of the parking lot. I crossed the street and reached my vehicle.
It was only when I sat down in the driver’s seat that I could let mys
elf start shaking.
I was still shaking when I got back to work.
“Why can’t he just leave me be?”
I felt a tear stream down my cheek. Damn it! I was crying. I sniffed, grabbing a tissue quickly. I wasn’t going to let him make me cry! I blew my nose.
The door opened.
“Amelia?”
I stared. There, in the doorway, was another man I didn’t want to see. Carter.
“What is it?” I whispered. Damn it, my voice had gone all shaky. I coughed to clear it. To my surprise, he didn’t go away. To my even greater surprise, I was pleased he was with me.
“Amelia… you’re shaking. What happened?” he asked. His voice was low and gentle and stroked the edges of my frightened heart. I shut my eyes, not believing how good it felt to have him here.
“Nothing,” I sniffed. He might make me feel safer, but I wasn’t about to confide the less-pleasant parts of my life to my boss. Not just like that. “I’m fine, Carter. Please… it’s fine.”
“Amelia,” he said gently, “it isn’t.” He bent over my desk, putting a hand on the surface. Then, to my surprise, he sat in the chair next to me. His hand stayed where it was. His legs were beside mine, under the desk. It felt good, having them there. I took a deep breath and calmed down.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I, um… saw someone I knew. From my past. A guy.”
“An ex-boyfriend?” he asked. I looked into his gaze, but there was no judgment in his expression. I sniffed. Somehow, that was so off-topic it was funny.
“No,” I sniffed again. Damn nose. “Please, Carter. Let me just be alone for a bit. This isn’t anybody else’s drama.”
“No,” he said. I waited for him to go away. He sat silently for a long moment. When he still hadn’t left yet, I sniffed and smiled.
“No, what?” I asked, blowing my nose on a square of folded-up tissue-paper.
“I want to help, Amelia,” he said gently. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happened… I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
I sniffed. “It’s a guy,” I said, feeling relieved to be able to finally talk about it all. “It’s my mom’s boyfriend, actually… he… he has a thing about me.” I felt my stomach heave with nausea, thinking of the creep.
“I see,” Carter said carefully. I glanced at him, but again I could detect no judgment in his expression, only waiting. He was waiting, I thought, for me to tell him more. I cleared my throat.
“He was outside the restaurant, almost as if he knew I was in the neighborhood. I don’t know how... Mom doesn’t even know where I’m living or working yet.” I sniffed. “And he… well… he confronted me and we exchanged words.”
I felt my wrist. It was throbbing now. When I looked down, I noticed a bruise there. I ran my fingers absently over it, feeling for signs of swelling.
When I looked up, I found myself staring into a mask of rage.
I shivered. The expression on Carter’s face was angry and stern. He was staring at the marks on my wrist. His eyes bulged slightly, and his cheeks paled.
He looks like he wants to kill whoever did that.
I felt my throat tighten with emotions. On the one hand, I felt scared. I had never seen a violent man before, but I knew that I was in the presence of somebody who could, at that moment, commit murder. On the other hand, I knew that Carter normally reined in his temper. I had never seen him look angry, even though I’d sure pushed him now and again, just as he had done to me. So seeing him this mad, for something that had been done to me, was arousing. And moving.
“Did he do that?” he asked softly.
Swallowing hard, I tried to find my voice.
“It’s okay, Carter,” I said gently. “It’s fine.”
“Tell me his name,” he said. His voice sounded like nothing I had ever heard before. The suppressed anger in it was terrifying, but also tender and sexy. I swallowed hard.
“It’s okay,” I said gently. “Please. I don’t want to make an issue out of this.” Suddenly, the tiredness I felt—the aftereffects of shock and trauma—was crippling. Closing my eyes wearily, I shook my head. “Please, Carter. I don’t have the energy right now.”
There was a desperate edge to my voice, and I fought down tears. Carter looked at me. His rage seemed to fade.
“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I understand. I’ll leave you be. But if you need anything, and I mean anything, please, let me know.”
I nodded, feeling too weak to move. “I will,” I said softly.
I looked up into his pale eyes. They held mine. I saw genuine concern and empathy in those eyes. I saw a tenderness in him that I had never seen before. At that moment, that was almost more than I could bear.
“Please? Amelia?” he added softly. “You don’t need to be strong all the time.”
I swallowed hard, feeling my throat tighten as I held back tears. I nodded. “Thanks, Carter,” I whispered.
I waited until he had gone out of the office before I let myself cry.
I tried not to stay quiet, aware that, even though the door was shut, everyone could still probably hear me. I couldn’t help it, though. I was upset on so many levels.
I blew my sniffly nose again, starting to feel calmer. I leaned my elbows on the desk and took a long breath. My heart was racing, and emotions pulled me in so many directions. I immediately realized it was Carter, not the experience with Luke, that had me so out of sorts.
It was the way Carter had spoken to me. He’d been so kind, so gentle, so tender. And the concern on his face when he looked at my bruise had moved me more than anything. I realized, with a sniff, that nothing could have disarmed me more than his thoughtfulness and concern. Nobody had ever looked after me like that before.
9
Carter
I leaned on the wall in the hallway, trying not to swing at something or someone. I tried to remember everything the therapist told me about my anger. When I came back from service, I had a really short fuse.
Don’t act before you’ve counted to ten.
I balled my hands into fists and counted in my brain. Somehow, the counting didn’t make me feel any calmer. It did stop me from punching a wall, though, which I guess was a good thing, since the wall would have been a poor substitute for the person I really wanted to punch.
“How dare he?” I muttered under my breath.
I didn’t know how long it had been since I had felt this mad about anything. The thought of anybody laying a finger on Amelia made my brain flood with a hot, powerful rage that I’d never felt before. I struggled to see past it. All I wanted to do—all I felt capable of doing—was search the streets and find this guy.
“And then?” I whispered to myself. Get a handle on yourself, Carter. You can’t just kill him.
I wanted to. The thought scared me a bit.
I leaned on the wall and tried to calm my thoughts. It wasn’t easy. I looked down at my hands.
My fingers were knotted into fists. I had big hands—my grandma always commented that my hands were like my dad’s. I swallowed hard. I could barely recall my father’s hands anymore. My own, however, were thick with muscle, the fingers long but corded and powerful. My veins stood out a little. My palms were wide.
A workingman’s hands.
I grinned to myself.
The thought calmed me down somewhat. Who the heck did I think I was? Prince Charming? I was just the owner of a bike shop. I wasn’t Superman, a hero to go charging around on avenging missions. I tried to mock myself about it, hoping that I could calm myself down.
I knew I wasn’t being ridiculous, though.
Men who touched women without their permission were men I didn’t tolerate. How could anybody think they were entitled to lay hands on another person, for any reason? Whatever the motivation, to my mind, unwanted touch was an act of violence.
“And I wasn’t wrong to want to give the guy what he deserves.”
I had every reason to want t
o hold that guy down and break his jaw. He’d know all about unwanted touch, then! How dare he? He’d left bruises! I thought of that delicate skin, marred with black marks, and I wanted to kill. Or at least inflict some memorable pain and suffering.
I was in my office now. I shut the door and sat down at my desk, glad to be alone where I could think about the problem without my brothers or Adam.
I knew they’d ask me what the hell was wrong, and I would have no idea what to say.
I breathed slow, regular breaths. I would have to tell them the story that Amelia told me. A shorter one, of course, to respect her privacy as much as possible. Either way, they’d all want to avenge her, and I did not really want three mechanics with violent intent running around the pizza restaurant—it wouldn’t end well. And besides, the moment they saw any emotional response from me on the matter, they would all know that they were right about my interest in Amelia.
If they knew that I was interested in Amelia , they would tease me relentlessly, and I did not want to deal with that or have it be part of our workplace.
I couldn’t let that happen. I needed them to feel the same respect for me that they’d always felt, and I wasn’t sure how they’d feel about me if they discovered my interest in our new employee.
I shook my head at myself. This was all turning into a confusing mess. In a time when Amelia really did need some sort of help, I felt paralyzed. An idea came to me. If I had to limit my own involvement in the situation, then I would bring somebody else in who could keep an eye on her.
I called the perfect guy for the job. “Tex?” I said. As one of our main clients, and chapter leader of a bike-club, Tex Townshend had always been helpful and a standup guy.
“Hi?” the gruff voice replied. I smiled to myself. Tex was talented with motorcycles, affable, and caring. He was the kind of friend you could depend on to lift you up when you were feeling down, and he had a heart of solid gold.
“Hi, Tex! How’s it going? How’s your ride?”
“Great!” He sounded enthusiastic. “The bike is running better than when I first bought it. And the job’s good. My girlfriend’s also fine,” he added with a cheerful intonation.
