“What could I possibly do at a mechanic’s shop?” she challenged.
“Cricket used to run the front counter. Believe it or not, women tend to feel more comfortable when a woman is working the front counter.”
“Makes sense.” She shrugged. “I’ve only been to one mechanic besides Hatch, but that was in Atlanta, and it was someone Hatch trusted.”
We stepped out of the elevator and headed to her door, which she unlocked and pushed open.
“I’m gonna take a look around,” I said, walking in front of her.
She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Make sure you’re safe.”
Her eyes softened as she nodded, and I forced down the feeling of elation I felt. Fuck me, one tiny woman looks at me with appreciation and I melt. Not good.
I did a sweep of the condo, checking window locks and escape options, finding Finch had done everything he needed to do to secure his home. He was lookin’ out for his sister and I liked that.
“Everything looks good,” I said, as I met Grace in the kitchen.
“I could have told you that,” she retorted with a cheeky smile. “Merrick’s pretty on top of my safety. Cop dad… it’s ingrained.”
“Right.” I’d forgotten their dad was a fuckin’ cop. He’d never given the club any issues, but still, I wasn’t a fan. “I’m gonna head out. You good?”
She hesitated, and my heart went out to her. “Yep.”
“Why are you shakin’, then?”
She crossed her arms. “Cold.”
I frowned and made a split-second decision to hang around for a while.
“You have a problem if I stayed a bit?” I asked, shrugging out of my jacket.
“Not at all,” she said, her eyes wide with relief. “Do you want a beer?”
I sat at the kitchen island and nodded. “Sure, babe, that’d be great.”
Grace grabbed a beer from the fridge and handed it to me. I twisted the top off and took a swig. It was shit, but I wasn’t gonna insult her, so I set it on the counter and watched her pour a glass of wine.
“Do you work for Hatch full time?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” I said. “I’ve worked for him since I was a teenager. He paid for my education.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. He’s the reason I patched in to the Dogs.”
She bit her lip and I had to look away, wanting to tug it from her teeth… with mine. “He’s amazing.”
I chuckled. “He’s a good guy, yeah.”
“Poppy’s so lucky.”
“What’s your dad like?”
“I don’t really want to talk about him,” she said, dropping her head again.
“Fair enough.” I didn’t like that she hid from me, but I let her retreat… for the moment.
“Did you have to… ah, do what Merrick had to do?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Who did you fight?”
“Hatch.”
Her eyes widened. “Ohmigod, really?”
I smiled. “Yep.”
“Who won?”
I chuckled. “He did. Hands down.”
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Wow,” she whispered as she leaned across the island. “How did you know I was freaking?”
“Baby, you were ghost white and I couldn’t get you to move. Since I know what happened… you know, back then… I figured something had triggered you.”
She blushed, dropping her head again. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Grace. Look at me.”
It took her a minute, but she finally met my eyes, her face still red.
“Nothing that happened tonight… or ten years ago… is your fault. It’s also not your fault that fuckin’ PTSD is still rearin’ its head ten years later.”
“Ten years is a long time, Flea.”
“I hear ya, Grace, but it doesn’t mean it’s all-healing.”
She dropped her head again. “It should be some-healing, though, don’t you think?”
“Nope,” I said, and tapped the counter. “Look at me, Grace.”
She did.
“You endured something no one should have to. It’s gonna take you as long as it’s gonna take you to function through it. No one’s judging you, you get that, right?”
She sighed. “Except my dad.”
I forced myself not to react. She was sharin’ and I wanted to keep her talkin’. “Your dad thinks… what?”
“That I should be over all of this.” She busied herself in the kitchen and I scrubbed a hand over my face.
“He’s wrong.” I climbed off the stool and walked around the island. “Grace?”
“Hm?” She faced me and let out a quiet squeak. “Oh!”
I chuckled. “Sorry.”
She stared up at me. “I didn’t even hear you move.”
I grinned. “It’s a skill.”
“Apparently.”
“Did you hear me?”
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
“Do you believe me?”
“I’d like to, but…” She looked away again.
I squeezed her arm gently. “Eyes.”
Her baby blues flew to me. I could see her warring with her emotions, but I continued to hold her arm as she stared up at me. “Need you to hear me on this, Grace. I get it’s easier said than done, but none of this is on you.”
“What makes you so smart?”
I squeezed her arm again, wanting to do more, but giving her space. “Got a few years on you, Grace.”
“More than a few, old man,” she retorted.
I chuckled. She wasn’t wrong.
“Do you know what happened tonight?” I asked.
I had to give it to her, she kept her eyes on me when she nodded. “Ashley…”
“Had her new fuckin’ gun,” I finished. Of course. That made all the sense in the world. Grace’s mother had shot herself in the head. The sight of a woman who resembled her flashing one would have triggered a shit ton of emotion.
“Yes,” she whispered.
I stroked her cheek, but before I could say anything, I heard the key in the door, so I released her and moved back to the island. Finch walked in and stalled. He looked wrecked, but stood taller and stared me down. “Flea.”
“Hey, brother.”
“You okay, Grace?” he asked.
“Yep. Flea was just keeping me company for a bit.”
“And now I’m gonna go,” I said, and grabbed my jacket.
I shrugged it on as Grace made her way to me and led me to the door. Finch watched… he didn’t want anyone to know he was watching, but I could tell… as I stepped into the hallway.
“Thanks for everything,” Grace said, quietly.
“No problem, babe.” I smiled. “I’ll see you around.”
She nodded and closed the door, and I headed down to my bike.
Grace
I LOCKED THE door and faced my brother. “You look like you’ve broken every bone in your body.”
He grinned. “Almost.”
“You should go to emergency.”
“Katie and Lily fussed over me tonight. It’s all good. Nothing’s broken. Just gotta ice and take it easy.”
Katie. Flea’s sister.
She was a registered nurse (as was Lily), so I knew my brother had been in good hands, but I still worried.
“If anything seems… off… will you let me know?”
He grabbed a beer and smiled. “Yeah, Grace, I’m gonna run to my little sister the second I have a headache.”
Before I could argue, my phone buzzed in my pocket and I slipped it out and glanced at the screen. It was Hatch. “Hi, Hatch. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Gracie girl, it’s all good. Hear you might be lookin’ for a job.”
“Wow, Flea doesn’t waste time, does he?”
Hatch chuckled. “He knows we need someone, so I’m callin’ to officially offer you the job.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m waiting to hear back from the Portland Ballet Conservatory, so I don’t know how long I can commit.”
“We’ll work around your schedule.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Can you start Monday?”
“Um, yeah, I can. That’d be great. Thanks, Hatch.”
“Great. Talk to you then.”
“Okay. Bye.” He hung up and I smiled at my brother. “I got a job.”
“I heard. Hatch needs someone, huh?”
I nodded. “I don’t know anything about working in a mechanic’s shop, but he knows that, so…”
Merrick grabbed the Advil from the cabinet and popped two. “I think it’ll be good for you. But, you know you can stay here as long as you want to.”
“I know that. And I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me. You’re my favorite brother on the planet.”
He grinned. “And you’re my favorite sister.”
“Well, now that the love-fest has been established, I’m going to go to bed. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good, sissy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I gently hugged my brother, then headed to my room, my heart light for the first time in a while.
* * *
Monday morning, I was a bundle of nerves as I drove to Hatch’s shop. I don’t know why I was so nervous, Hatch was like the dad I never had, so I knew he’d be patient with me, but, still, I knew nothing about grease monkeys and the engines they fixed.
Flea.
Ohmigod. Flea.
He was someone I wasn’t quite prepared for. I liked him.
I didn’t like men.
I mean, I did. But my life was chaotic, and I never felt like dragging anyone else into the drama. But Flea… well, he didn’t seem fazed by anything. Come to think of it, he never had.
I shook my head. Of course he wasn’t fazed by anything. He was a badass biker. They were used to chaos. But he probably wasn’t a man who would mess around with someone like me, so I didn’t know why the thought kept entering my head. I had neither the time nor the emotional fortitude to chase after a man. It didn’t matter that said man was gorgeous and sweet and the first one in… ever to make me stop and dream a little.
I sighed. This was just more proof I was certifiable.
All of my man-mooning had shortened my drive time considerably and I found myself pulling into the shop parking lot. I saw a Harley parked in front, so I pulled in next to it. I assumed it was Hatch’s since he’d said to meet him there at eight.
I turned off my car and took a deep breath before grabbing my bag and heading into the building. I’d worn jeans and knee-high boots, along with a dark top which would hide the dirt and keep me cool. Hopefully, I wasn’t overdressed.
Pushing open the front door, I called out, “Hatch!”
“Back here, Grace,” he said, and I followed the sound.
I stepped through a side door and smiled. Hatch was washing his hands at the sink at the back of the shop and smiled at me over his shoulder. “You’re early.”
“I know. Sorry, there was no traffic.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, drying his hands. “You can be early anytime you like.”
“Well, I hope you’ll feel the same way whenever I’m late.”
Hatch chuckled. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
For the next hour, Hatch showed me the shop. By the time the tour ended, I felt confident I could do this job. And this was because Hatch was patient and he made me feel empowered.
I heard the roar of pipes as Hatch led me back to the front desk. “That’ll be Flea. He’s gonna train you on the computer and shit.”
A shiver stole up my spine and I forced myself not to jump up and down with excitement. “Okay, cool.”
And then I saw him, and I found myself swallowing convulsively. He dropped his helmet in a saddlebag and ran his hands through his hair and I felt warmth pool in places it probably shouldn’t. He was a beautiful human being and when he shoved his keys in his pocket and a toothpick in his mouth, then started toward the front door, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from squeaking.
I swear it was like the opening to the Bachelor or something… Flea walked toward us, the breeze catching his hair, almost like it was slo-mo, and when he caught my eye through the glass, he smiled.
And, ohmigod, what a smile.
I had to look away.
“’Mornin’,” Flea said as he walked inside.
“Hey,” Hatch replied, but I just smiled and nodded. “I’m gonna leave you two to it.”
“Okay. Thanks, Hatch,” I said, and Hatch went to the back of the shop.
“You ready for this?” Flea asked.
“I think so.” I smiled. “Thanks for making this happen.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’m gonna go grab a cup of coffee, then we can start.”
“I just made a fresh pot.”
“Good first step,” he said, and chuckled as he headed into the back office.
He returned quickly and turned into ‘all-business’ Flea.
He stayed with me at the front desk the entire morning, which I appreciated, because it was busy. As in, slammed.
By the time the sixth customer in less than an hour walked out the door, I’d decided I was wrong. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to do this job.
“Lunch,” Flea announced just before noon, and I couldn’t stop a sigh of relief. “Overwhelmed?”
“Little bit.” I bit my lip. “Is it always this busy?”
“Nope. It’s usually worse.”
“What?” I squeaked.
He grinned. “Don’t freak, babe. I’m with you all week.”
“You are?”
“Yep. Got your back.”
Buddy, you can have my front, too, I thought to myself, but said, “Thanks, Flea.”
“You hungry?”
“Starved,” I admitted.
“Chinese?”
“I love Chinese.”
“Good, there’s a place next door. You ready?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
Flea pulled the door to the shop open and yelled, “Grace and I are headin’ to lunch.”
“Grab me some Kung Pao,” Hatch yelled back.
“Beef broccoli,” Hatch’s brother, Cullen called. “And noodles.”
“Shoulda kept my mouth shut,” Flea grumbled.
“Hey, can you grab me cashew shrimp?” Preacher asked as he walked to the front desk. He handed Flea a twenty. “I’m up here ’til you get back.”
“I won’t remember all this shit,” Flea complained.
“Don’t worry.” I waved a notebook at him. “I’m writing it down.”
Flea stuck his face back through the door and yelled, “Anything else? Keep in mind, I’m not your fuckin’ secretary.”
I didn’t hear words from anyone, but chuckles resounded as Flea closed the door again. “Let’s get out of here before they add to the list.”
I grinned and nodded. “I’ll just grab my purse.”
“Don’t need your purse, babe. Come on,” he said, holding the front door open.
I rushed to follow him, and we walked a few doors down to the tiny, literal hole-in-the-wall Chinese food restaurant. There were only about six tables inside and I kept thinking that if they moved all the buddha statues, they’d probably have room for more.
The hostess led us to a table in the corner and I slid into the booth, setting the piece of paper between the soy sauce holder and the salt. I opened my menu, glanced at it, which was silly because I always ordered the same thing, then set it down again and smiled at Flea.
“Why are you called Flea?” I asked.
He grinned. “Hatch said that I asked so many questions, it made him itch.”
I chuckled. “What kinds of questions?”
“All kinds. Never had a dad, Mom was kind of a nut, so I used to grill him about everything.”
“It’s nice you had that.”
“Yeah. He’s the big brother I never had.”
“He’s like that.” I smiled. “He’s the dad I never had.”
Flea raised an eyebrow. “You not close to yours?”
“Not really, no.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really, no,” I said again.
He leaned forward slightly. “That changes, you let me know.”
I nodded. “Thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”
“You didn’t, babe.”
A server came to our table and brought us tea, and we gave him our order, which meant I had a minute to pull myself together.
I don’t know why I blurted out everything I was feeling to Flea. It was like he gazed into my soul and saw everything anyway, so I guess I felt like it was futile to keep it hidden from him.
“What’s with the toothpick?” I asked once the server walked away.
He pulled it out of his mouth and slipped it into his pocket. “Quit smokin’ about a year ago. This helps.”
“Gives your mouth something else to do, huh?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “’Course, there are better things I could do with my mouth, but the toothpick works in a pinch.”
“I bet.” I rolled my eyes in an effort to hide my shiver. I bet he could do amazing things with his mouth.
“How did you feel about this morning?” he asked.
“Overwhelmed, but good,” I admitted. “I’m not sure I’ll remember everything.”
“Once you get in the groove, it’s not hard. You’re already ahead of the curve.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, Grace. You’re doin’ great.”
I blushed. “Thanks.”
“So, what’s this ballet thing?”
“You mean, my life?”
He chuckled. “No, I mean the reason you might leave the shop.”
“Oh.” I smiled. “I was offered a position with the San Francisco Ballet, but since I’m not ready to leave, I’ve auditioned for PBC as well.”
“Would it be a better deal?”
“In San Francisco?”
He nodded.
“Probably,” I said. “More money, more prestige.”
“Why don’t you go?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it for me.”
“That would give you a level of access to my life that scares me, buddy.”
Road to Grace Page 3
