“Megan!” my sister calls out. She takes the beers from the bartender, then heads toward the familiar-looking woman.
Megan. That’s right. Shit. How bad does my luck have to be for my sister to know one of my one-night stands? And to run into her again when I can’t make a quick getaway?
If I’m lucky, she won’t remember me. Or at least that I snuck out in the middle of the night after I’d sobered up. Although judging by the clenching of her jaw when Tracy points my way, I’m pretty sure she does.
I give her a weak smile, nodding my head in acknowledgement.
Megan sends me a death-glare before turning back to Tracy. The taller of the blondes gives me a shrewd look, while the shorter blonde makes eye contact again before her gaze skitters away. I can see her blush deepening from here.
And then I can’t. Because Tracy’s blocking my view.
She sets a bottle in front of me, then settles into her seat. “So.” She sips her beer, then tilts her head and studies me.
I grip my bottle, bracing for yet another lecture.
“Any chance you’re looking for a job?”
My hand pauses mid-way to my mouth. “What?” I set my bottle back on the table.
She nods toward the section of bar where the three women are engaged in what appears to be a heated discussion. “It just so happens that Kylie and Lauren own a bicycle shop. And they recently lost their mechanic.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah.”
I’ve been around bikes my whole life. Hell. They are my life.
Tracy eyes my cast. “I have no idea if your leg’s up for it, but you definitely have the skills. And I think you’d be really good at it.”
“Thanks.” Despite all her lectures, my sister has actually been one of my biggest champions. And she’s right—I do have the skills. I’ve been working on bikes for as long as I can remember. First bicycles, then motorcycles. A combination of intrigue and hope pushes at the edges of my misgivings. “Wait.” I narrow my eyes. “Is this some of your reverse psychology stuff? Like, you really want me to stay on your couch for another couple of months?” My sister’s always been the smart one. And now she actually is a psychologist.
She snorts. “God, no. I don’t want you moping around the house.”
I scoff. “I am not moping.”
Tracy gives me one of her pointed looks. “Yeah. You are.”
“Hey, you try breaking your leg in three places and see how much fun you are.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I just mean you get all antsy when you’re cooped up too long. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I have enough antsiness with Reece. I don’t know how much more our house can handle.”
I crack a smile at the mention of my four-year-old nephew. She’s right—she and Craig have their hands full with him. He’s a smart little chatterbox with a seemingly endless source of energy. I’ve loved getting to spend more time with him, but I have no idea how they manage to keep up with him.
“Seriously.” She nudges my good leg with her foot. “I think this might be a nice fit for you. You should at least check it out.”
“Thanks. Good to know my older sister’s still looking out for me.”
She shrugs. “Well, someone’s got to.”
I ignore her implication that I don’t look after myself, cutting a glance back toward the women’s table. “Who works there?”
“The two sisters, Kylie and Lauren.”
Huh. No Megan. “And that’s it? The other one doesn’t work there?”
Tracy laughs. “Megan? In a bike store. Noooo.” I relax a bit as Tracy continues. “And apparently, their uncle works there part-time, but he’s having surgery. Or had surgery. I don’t know. Kylie was kind of all over the place. So?” She raises her eyebrows. “What do you think?”
I take a pull on my beer as my gaze slides back toward the table of hotties.
The shorter cutie catches my eye again, and I can feel the familiar revving of my engine. Something I haven’t felt since my injury.
I think that as long as Megan doesn’t have revenge on her mind, and assuming my leg’s up for it, this could be a very nice diversion indeed.
CHAPTER THREE
Lauren
“SERIOUSLY?” I HISS-whisper, my gaze sliding back to Jake and Tracy. “You cannot just offer a job to a stranger.” Particularly when said stranger is so damned hot.
Megan nods. “Agreed. Especially to him.”
Kylie looks back at their table. “Why not? What’s wrong with him?”
“You mean besides the fact that he has a gigantic cast?” I ask.
“It’s not like he’ll be using his feet to repair the bikes.” Kylie shrugs and swings her gaze to Megan. “Besides, your friend Tracy seems to think he’d be good at it, in spite of the bum leg. And even if he can only give us a few hours a day, that’s still better than what we have now.”
Megan growls, and her face contorts like she’s fighting with herself. “She’s not really my friend. I know Tracy from spin class.” Her shoulders drop with her sigh. “You remember that guy I told you about? That kind-of-sort-of-famous one from a couple years back?”
I give her a blank look. Honestly, Megan goes through so many men that I stopped paying attention to the details a long time ago.
“Well, that’s him,” she continues. “And apparently, he’s Tracy’s brother.”
“Really?” Kylie’s head swivels back to their table. “Sort-of-famous how?”
“Some kind of biker—bicycles? Motorcycles?” Megan’s auburn curls bounce as she shakes her head. “I don’t really remember. Just that he was a big enough name to be on tour and to have sponsors.”
“Wow.” Kylie nods. “Now I really hope he can work. Might increase business if people knew we had a pro at the shop.”
“Well, if he’s there,” Megan says, “then I definitely won’t be.”
“You never come by anyway,” I reply.
“Yeah,” Kylie adds. “Besides. I would’ve thought you’d be scrambling all over yourself to have another hookup with him.”
Megan sniffs. “Well. I make it a point not to chase guys who up and leave in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye.”
Oh. He’s that type of guy. Should’ve known.
Jake catches me looking at him, and something that feels a lot like lust jolts through my system.
Damn. Even if he’s as much of a player as Megan is, he’s still ridiculously hot. But who am I kidding? Not like someone like him would ever find someone like me attractive. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to speak when he’s in close proximity. And if I do, no doubt it’ll be something embarrassing.
Because I may be many things—smart, level-headed, reliable. But smooth around hot guys is definitely not one of them.
“Maybe we can see if Uncle Pete can delay his surgery,” I say. “Just until we can find someone else.”
Kylie’s knuckles tighten around her glass, and her expression hardens. “No. We don’t need Uncle Pete to bail us out. We can do this.”
I know enough about Kylie’s stubborn streak to know not to try to push the issue. Add in her blood alcohol level and I really don’t stand a chance. Not to mention the fact that Aunt Sheila already rearranged her work schedule for Uncle Pete’s surgery. Besides, Kylie’s right. We can do this. Well, the business part, anyway. The talking to hot guys part, not so much.
Which makes the fact that Jake and his sister are coming this way extremely inconvenient. I glance around, considering making a run for it, and spy Megan hightailing it to the far side of the bar.
Traitor.
Thank God Kylie’s still here. Although given the number of drinks she’s had so far, I’m not entirely sure that’s a good thing. Especially since she seems to be hell-bent on giving this guy a job. She flashes Jake one of her killer smiles. “So?” Kylie asks, after a round of introductions. “Did your sister tell you about our little problem?”
Jake’s eyes dart to where Megan’s flirting with Andrew.
The previous lust dissipates into a mixture of resignation and disappointment. Damn. If Megan and Jake wind up having an encore, will that make things more or less awkward?
“Yes,” Jake says. “And I have to say, I’m intrigued.”
The deep timbre of his voice sends those little shivers racing down my spine.
The shivers hit yet again as my focus shifts to him, meeting some of the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen—long lashes ring his chocolatey gaze, and the crescent moon of a scar below the corner of one eye just adds to that air of danger.
Megan has hooked up with some hot guys since I’ve known her, but I’ve never been this attracted to them.
Double damn.
I blink, then give my head a quick shake as if trying to break the hypnotic pull of his gaze. Come on, Lauren. Get your head in the game. Kylie may sound like her normal self, but she did just get her heart stomped on. Not to mention the fact that her blood alcohol level is probably higher than mine.
Kylie smirks at me, then points to Jake’s cast. “Are you planning to work with your feet?”
Confusion clouds his features. “Uh, no?”
“Good.” Kylie gives me a triumphant smile, then turns back to him. “Your sister said you’re good with bikes. What do you do?”
Jake’s forearms flex as he tightens his grip on his crutches. “Racing. Started with BMX bikes when I was young. Then moved on to Motocross.”
Her eyes narrow, and she nods toward his injured leg. “What happened?”
He wrinkles his nose as if in disgust. “Training accident. Hit a roller wrong, got thrown off-balance. Broke my ankle and higher up on my leg.”
“He’s doing much better,” Tracy chimes in. “And I swear, he’s a fabulous mechanic.”
I clear my throat. “Do you have references?” I eke out.
Good. Yeah. That was a totally legit question. Except for some reason that makes the corner of his mouth lift. Which sends those excited shivers racing through me once more.
Oh, for Uncle Pete’s sake.
“Yeah,” Jake says. “I can probably pull something together for you if you want it.”
“Yes.” I nod. “I want you.” My eyes widen. “It. I want it.” Crap. Not helping yourself here, Lauren. “Not It. Or that. Your references. Nothing else.”
Oh, my God. Shut up already.
Jake’s eyebrow ticks upward, an amused gleam lighting his eyes.
Kylie shoots me a questioning look before turning back to Jake. “Right. Anyway... Why don’t you come by tomorrow, see if you think it’s something you can handle? We open at nine.”
Jake shifts on his crutches, his eyes downcast as if studying his leg. Lifting his head, he gives first Kylie, then me, a confident smile. “Yeah. I think I can handle it.”
Great. Hottie Jake hanging out in the bike shop for several hours a day.
He might be able to handle it.
But the question is, can I?
CHAPTER FOUR
Jake
TRACY OPENS THE CAR door and extracts my crutches. “You sure you don’t want a pillow?”
I give her a dirty look as I begin the awkward task of getting out of her back seat. “No, Mom. I think I’ll pass on taking a pillow with me on my first day at a new job.”
She lightly cuffs me on the back of my head as I perch on the edge of the seat to slide my backpack on. “Shut up. I’m just trying to help.”
“I know.” Taking the crutches from her, I haul myself upright and tuck them under my armpits. “And seriously. Thank you. For everything.” I wink. “And if it’ll make you feel any better, you will be the first person I call if I have a pillow emergency.”
She rolls her eyes, but the worry lines fade as a smile tugs at her mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Just be sure to take it easy, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I echo, maneuvering to avoid another swat. With a grin, I shoo her away. “Now go on. Get out of here. You’re driving me crazy.”
A sigh equal parts resignation and exasperation accompanies her head shake. “Fine.” Amusement dances in her eyes. “Love you, Jerk.”
Ugh. She knows how much I hate saying the L word. How it makes me twitchy and uncomfortable, even around those I actually do love. And, of course, she used my old nickname. The one she’d taken delight in when she’d realized how close jerk and Jake actually are.
I raise my middle finger in answer.
Cackling, she opens her car door, hesitating before climbing back inside. “See you later. And seriously, don’t hesitate to text me or Craig when you need a ride.”
“Please. Like you won’t be checking in every hour.”
Tracy’s eyes dart away.
“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. Now seriously. Go. I’ll be fine.”
She presses her lips together. “I just worry about you.”
“Yeah, I know.” For as big of a cheerleader as she is, I also know how much my reckless lifestyle keeps her up at night. How much she wishes I’d just settle down and “get a real job.” One that doesn’t put me at risk of ending up in the hospital every day.
Just like I know how to make those worry lines disappear. In my best falsetto, I belt out the chorus of Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive, pointing at the exit to the parking lot as I tell her she’s not welcome anymore.
As expected, Tracy’s frown disappears, and she rolls her eyes again, this time with a hint of a smile on her face. “Alright, alright. I’m going. See you later, Jerk.”
I grin, ignoring the curious stares of the passersby who were privy to my impromptu concert, then crutch up the street.
I have to hand it to Tracy and Craig. They picked a decent place to settle down. A college town with a diverse population, a ton of hiking and biking trails, nearby mountains and lakes. Not that the college part appeals to me. Books and I have never been great friends. And right now, the activities aren’t all that appealing either. Well, they are. But I can’t really do any of them. Not with a busted leg.
And it’s not like I’m actually looking to settle down, despite Tracy’s nagging. But if I were, I could probably see myself in some place like this.
I’m just not ready for it to be anytime soon.
The churning in my gut slows as I reach the bike shop—Bike Moore. Kind of cheesy, but I like it. People should bike more.
I pause outside the door and catch my breath. Damn. Speaking of people being more active... I really hope I didn’t oversell my ability. I can do the work, no problem, but hauling this big-ass cast around is definitely a workout.
Shit. I probably should’ve taken Tracy up on her pillow suggestion. I hate it when she’s right.
With an exasperated sigh, I shove aside my doubts. After all, this is just a trial run. Not like it’s an actual job that matters.
Except, it kind of does.
The more I thought about it last night, the more I liked the idea of getting out of Tracy and Craig’s house. Getting off my ass and out of my head. Doing something to fill the yawning void of who-knows-how-much-longer until I can get back out on tour. Because that’s something else she’s right about. I am getting mopey. And antsy.
Not to mention the fact that I hate being a sponge.
I know people see me and think “slacker,” but I’m actually very driven. And that’s something else that scares me. Because while I’ve poured my heart and soul into the racing world, I’ve never been able to crack into the top tiers. I’ve always done well enough to keep myself afloat, but not well enough to build any kind of decent nest egg.
And it’s not like I’m getting any younger.
So, add my current medical expenses to my loss of income from not racing, and this job might actually matter more than even I want to admit.
Tamping down the nerves usually reserved for a big event, I plaster a smile on my face, prop the door open with a crutch, and shuffle through. The store isn’t huge, but it looks like they
have a good selection. A few high-end bikes in the display windows, several rows of bicycles running along one side and the back wall, clothing and equipment along another wall and scattered among various display racks.
A raised male voice from the side of the room draws my attention. Glancing over, I see Lauren behind the counter, a pained expression on her flushed face as she talks to what I’m guessing is a customer. A rather pissed customer, by the sound of it.
Relief washes over her face when she sees me standing in the doorway. “Here’s one of our mechanics. We’ll be happy to take a look at that for you. On the house.”
The man turns to face me, his eyebrows furrowing. “Who are you?”
“Jake.” I nod to the bike at his side. “What’s the issue?”
He rakes his gaze over me, then narrows his eyes. “The issue is that I paid to get my brakes fixed, but now the shifter’s not working. And I’m supposed to go biking with my son this afternoon. It’s our day together.”
Lauren’s gaze darts to mine, the question clear in her eyes.
I give her a slight nod, then turn my attention back to the customer. “I’m free now. I’ll be happy to take a look.”
The man purses his lips, then exhales a sigh. “Okay. I have a couple of other errands to run, and then I’ll stop back. But if you guys screw it up again...”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” I flash him my most confident smile, waiting until the door closes behind him before letting out a low whistle. “Wow. No pressure, right?”
“Huh?”
“First day, angry customer. Guess I’d better know what I’m doing.”
Her eyes round into saucers. “You do, right? Know what you’re doing?”
“With these?” I wave my hand, gesturing toward the bike next to the counter. “Yes. With my life in general? Not so much.” Crap. How’d that last part slip out?
A faint smile graces her lips, and the tension in her shoulders melts just a bit. “Good.” Her green eyes widen again. “Not good that you don’t know what you’re doing with your life, I mean good that you can fix bikes.”
Changing Gears Page 2
