Damn. She is cute. Especially when she’s flustered. The flush highlights her cheekbones, and her bottom lip looks even more luscious after she’s been working it with her teeth.
Focus, Jake. And not on her mouth. I shift on my crutches and nod toward the bike. “So, uh, you think you could give me a hand?”
A nervous laugh bubbles out of her. “Believe me. You do not want me near that thing. I am strictly the numbers side of the business. And sometimes customer service, too, when Kylie’s not around.”
I glance down at my leg and pull a face. “I kind of need some help getting the bike to wherever it is I’ll be working on it. And probably some help getting it up onto the stand.”
“Oh. Yeah. That I can handle.” She walks the bike toward the back of the shop, and I follow. Despite my best intentions, my eyes keep straying to her ass. And the way it fills out her jeans. And dammit, if I’m not careful, there’s gonna be something obvious about what’s going on in my pants.
Come on, dude. Focus. And not on her ass. Focus on your own walking. ‘Cause nothing says “I got this” quite like stumbling over your crutches and face-planting in front of your new boss.
It’s almost a relief when she opens a door in the back, revealing the workshop area. The good thing is that I’m no longer ogling her backside. But that’s only because I’m busy inspecting the room. It’s a mess. Despite adequate shelving and storage, tools are strewn across the work surfaces, and it looks like a couple of projects have been abandoned. A partially stripped bike is up on a repair stand, while another bike rests against a side table.
“Do these need work, too?” I jut my chin toward the bikes in question.
Lauren nods. “I think so. But they’re ours, so they’re lower on the priority list.”
“Your personal bikes?”
“No. We have about a dozen that we rent out. There’s usually a couple that need work, but I have no idea what AJ was doing to them.” She winces in apology. “Sorry.”
I give her a reassuring smile. “No problem. I’m sure I’ll figure it out. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s bikes.”
And women.
But it’s probably best not to overshare on the first day.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lauren
AFTER HELPING JAKE get the disgruntled customer’s bike into position on the stand, I hightail it to the front of the store.
Where the hell is Kylie?
I mean, I know theoretically where she is. She’s at City Hall, in a meeting about the new city-wide bike program. And it’s probably a good thing, too. She seemed a bit calmer this morning, but still. Every time she glanced toward the back of the store, it looked like she was trying to set it on fire with her mind.
So, while it’s likely in all of our best interests to have her out on some errands for a while, it leaves me here in the shop with Jake. Hot Jake. Hot Jake with his tattooed arms, warm chocolate eyes, and easy smile.
Hot Jake who is so far off limits it’s not even funny.
Even if I thought I stood some sort of chance at catching the eye of a guy like that, there’s no way I’d ever do something with an employee. Even though Kylie did. Or maybe especially since Kylie did.
Good thing Dad wasn’t here to see what was going on at the family business.
The familiar pinch in my chest returns.
It’s been six months, and it still feels like it’s Dad’s business. Like he could walk through the door at any minute. I know it hasn’t been all that long, but when is it gonna get easier?
Of course, it probably doesn’t help that I’m spending more time at the shop than I have since I was a teenager. That his shop is now partially mine.
The shop I never really wanted in the first place.
Sure, he always talked about leaving it to us, but we never expected it to be this soon. And I never really expected to do anything with it. But after a few weeks of trying to do it on her own, Kylie asked for help, and what was I supposed to do? Let her keep floundering? Of course not. That’s not what family does.
Doesn’t mean there aren’t days I wonder if I made the right choice, though.
Swallowing against the lump of emotions in my throat, I take a deep breath. Focus, Lauren. There’s too much to do to let yourself fall apart now.
There were many times growing up that I resented being the level-headed “smart” sister. Now, however, I’m grateful. Because there is nothing I find quite so reassuring as checking things off my to-do list.
After refiling yet another stack of paperwork and balancing our bank account, I feel marginally better. At least about my organizational skills.
Jake, not so much.
My finger hovers over the keyboard, itching to do yet another search on our newest employee.
Not that I expect to find anything more than what I found last night, which was sparse at best. Mostly Google hits about his rankings and racing career, with a few more recent trade articles noting his injury and questioning his future. And while the dearth of dirt on him was more than a little disappointing, at least I now have a working knowledge of what he does for a living. And that the rollers that caused his injury are those little groups of hills on the race course. And that those daredevils are actually pretty good athletes. Who look seriously hot in their racing uniforms.
Good thing Jake’s just wearing regular clothes these days.
My throat goes dry at the mental picture of how his T-shirt stretched across his chest. I’ll bet he looks even better with his shirt off.
The buzz of my cell phone jars me from my thoughts of the hot guy in the back room.
Damn.
Seeing Aunt Sheila’s name, my gut clenches as I answer. “Hey. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Sheila says. “He’s out of surgery. Doctor says it went well.”
I exhale a breath of relief. “Good. How’re you holding up?”
“So far so good. Of course, ask me after the first week. One of us is liable to be insane by that point.”
“Well, you know he’s always welcome here at the shop.” My eyes dart to the back. “Which reminds me, I should probably fill you in on a few things.”
“Oh, honey,” Aunt Sheila says after I give her a rundown of the happenings of the last twenty-four hours. “Why didn’t you say something? We could’ve postponed Pete’s surgery.”
“Yeah. I know. But you shouldn’t have to.” They’ve done so much for us since Dad died. They need to take some time to take care of themselves.
“You know it’s no problem. That’s what family’s for.”
“Thanks, Aunt Sheila, but we’ll manage. Let us know what we can do.”
“Just let him hang out at the shop when he starts getting ornery.”
I chuckle. “Will do.”
After we hang up, I work through a couple of online orders before my thoughts start to stray to the back of the shop again. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that I haven’t heard a peep out of the back room. I guess it either means that Jake has been as absorbed in his work as I’ve been in mine, or that he’s already snuck out the back, much like he did to Megan. Although in the world of possible bad scenarios, it’s much more probable that he would’ve fallen.
Crap. What if he injures himself even more? I should probably double-check our workers’ comp policy.
I powerwalk to the back, letting out a breath when I see him seated on a stool, his eyes closed as he slowly turns the bike pedal.
The pinch in my chest relaxes, replaced instead by a warm, pleasant sensation. Almost like my hormones let out a collective sigh.
As if sensing my presence, Jake opens his eyes. “Hey. You’re just in time. This sucker is smooth as silk now. Just want to check a few other things and then I think it’s done.”
I nod, my thoughts momentarily stalled by the smile he unleashes. “Great... Uh... Thanks.” Come on, Lauren. Stop drooling. Focusing on the bike instead of his mesmerizing features, I ask, “So, AJ
didn’t mess anything up too badly?”
“Nah. Just had to tighten up the cables and readjust the derailleur limits. Piece of cake.”
“Oh. Good. I like cake.”
Laughter dances in his eyes. “Good to know.”
I can feel the heat gathering in my face as he studies me, my brain clunking like it can’t quite get itself in gear. Cake, Lauren? Seriously? “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I like pie, too. I’m an equal opportunity dessert enthusiast.”
Oh, my God. Shut up.
“She’s not lying.” Kylie’s appearance in the doorway makes me jump. “She once tried to stab me with a fork over a hot fudge brownie sundae.”
While I should probably be glad that my sister’s appearance means I’m no longer one-on-one with Jake, I’m not so sure it won’t just lead to more humiliation.
Despite the glare I aim in her direction, she shrugs. “What? I’m just warning the poor guy.”
“I appreciate it.” His lips twitch as he points at his leg. “I’m already down one limb. Can’t afford to lose any others.”
Kylie’s gaze bounces around the room, and she shifts from one foot to the other. “You, uh, need anything?”
Jake shakes his head. “Not quite yet.”
“Great.” She catches my eye and nods toward the front of the shop. “Can I borrow you?”
“Absolutely.” Kylie disappears out of sight, and I flash Jake a smile. “Let me know when you need a hand job.”
I can feel the fire on my cheeks as the words play over again in my head.
Oh. My. God.
“I mean, when you need a hand. Or when you’re finished with the job. Not when you, you know, need a hand job. Because I am definitely not offering that.”
“Um... Okay.”
I catch the mixture of amused interest sparkling in Jake’s eyes before I turn tail to follow Kylie.
Holy hell. What is wrong with me?
I mean, I know what’s wrong with me. Good-looking guys make me nervous. Always have. But seriously. I’m a grown woman! And a business owner. And this guy is my employee.
Shit. Am I gonna have to file a sexual harassment suit against myself?
“So...” Kylie leans against the counter, her lips pursed. “Jake—yes or no?”
I really want to say no. After all, I clearly can’t handle being around him. Not without making a total idiot out of myself, anyway. And how wise is it really to hire a stranger we met at a karaoke bar? Although it’s not like he’s a total stranger. Megan knows his sister. And him. Biblically.
I wonder again about the wisdom of hiring someone who snuck out on my friend. Although, if we restricted our candidates to people Megan hasn’t hooked up with, we’d be working with a very limited pool.
Besides, the references he sent last night checked out. And he does seem to know what he’s doing bike-wise. Plus, it doesn’t really seem fair not to give him a chance just because he slept with one of my friends. Or because he’s attractive and makes my brain go squishy. While wholly inconvenient for me, that seems petty, not to mention kind of like reverse discrimination.
If all else fails, I can probably just avoid him. And never, ever open my mouth when he’s around.
Plastering a smile on my face, I nod. “Yes.”
Relief washes across Kylie’s features. “Oh, thank God.”
“But only part-time. You know we can’t afford more.”
“Yet.” Kylie pushes a packet of papers toward me. “If we win this bid, there’s a $15,000 grant up front, plus the monthly stipend.”
Hope takes root as I thumb through the details. “Wow. That’s even better than I thought. What do you think our chances are?”
Kylie shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, we’re a third-generation business. You’d think that would carry some sway in the community. But Spencer’s chummy with a couple of the council members.”
I’m not sure if her disgusted lip curl is due to the fact that she hates playing politics as much as I do or because of the mention of her high-school-boyfriend-turned-competition. Probably a combination of the two.
“Well, maybe he’d be willing to help us out.”
She gives me one of her laser death glares, and I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. Despite the fact that Kylie hates Spencer’s guts, I actually kind of like the guy. Much better than any of her other boyfriends, that’s for sure.
“We don’t need his help. Besides, he’d probably give us wrong information in order to secure the bid for himself.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue that I really don’t think Spencer would do that, but I swallow my words. Because one—Kylie’s in fighting mode right now, and I stand absolutely no chance of making her see reason. And two—no matter how many times I tell her that I really don’t think Spencer’s out to get us, she’s still hung up on whatever happened between them eons ago.
Flipping through the mail on the counter, Kylie flinches, her expression sliding from one of irritation to one of discomfort. “Crap.”
“What?”
“Pedals & Medals.” She fingers a brochure, then sets it on the counter.
I open it up and peruse it, double-checking our ad. Bike Moore has been a sponsor of the event since it started, and for several years, the shop has had a booth on-site for added exposure. “What about it?”
“I’m not sure I can do it.”
“What do you mean? We’re already sponsoring it.” I hold up the brochure. “We already paid.”
“Yeah. I know. I just...” She swallows. “I’m not sure I can handle the booth.”
“But... You love working the booth. You always do it.” It’s one of the things I admire most about Kylie—her ability to schmooze and talk to strangers. Just like Dad. Something I definitely did not inherit.
“Yeah. With Dad.” Kylie gives me what I presume to be a pleading smile, but comes closer to being a wince. “Please? Could you do it this year?” She blinks, her eyes shiny. “I’ll owe you.”
Crap. There’s a reason I try to stick to the behind-the-scenes stuff. I hate these types of things. But I also don’t want Kylie breaking down in the middle of the event. “I don’t know...”
“Hey, sorry to interrupt.” Jake flashes an apologetic smile as Kylie and I turn toward him. “Can I get a hand?” Jake’s eyes dart to mine, and it’s clear he’s still amused by my faux pas. “The bike’s done.”
“Absolutely.” Kylie’s eyes widen, and I can see the moment inspiration strikes. It coincides with the sinking sensation in my gut.
“Any chance you’d like to keep Lauren company Saturday? We have a booth at a big community event. Of course, you’ll get paid for your time.”
“Uh, sure?”
Kylie turns back to me. “What do you say? Can you man the booth with Jake while I keep an eye on things here?”
Dammit. She is so gonna owe me. I sigh. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” she says, including us both in her grateful smile.
“No problem,” Jake replies.
Maybe not for him. But I’m pretty sure my problems are only just beginning.
CHAPTER SIX
Jake
DAMMIT. I PROBABLY should’ve listened to Tracy. I could really use a pillow right about now.
The first couple of hours weren’t bad, but the ache in my leg has been steadily increasing, and if I don’t get it elevated again soon, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna regret it.
Scanning the room, I take stock of the options. A couple of boxes that I’m not sure would hold my weight. Metal cabinets that I don’t think I’d be able to move even if I was in one piece. And built-in counters that run the length of two walls.
Shit. I should’ve asked for help when Lauren and Kylie were back here earlier. It’s bad enough that I needed help getting the bike on and off the stand. I don’t know that I want to keep drawing attention to the fact that they’d probably be better off hiring someone else.
But I also don’t want to mess my leg up any
worse.
As much as I enjoy taking risks, doing anything that might screw up my healing would be nothing short of idiotic. Not that I haven’t been called that on more than several occasions. By more than a few people.
The mixture of anger and self-loathing punches me in the chest.
Joking jabs by my sister and friends are one thing, but the echoes of voices from my youth still get to me. Add in the voices of doubt about my future, and...
Focus, Jake!
I take a deep breath, trying to redirect my thoughts. No sense going down that road. You’re here. You’re fine. Except for the fact that you’re sitting on a perfectly good stool while your leg’s still throbbing.
Idiot.
Giving myself a mental eye roll, I swallow a couple ibuprofens from the bottle in my backpack, then carefully slide to the floor and wrestle the heel of my cast onto the rung of the stool, high enough to get my leg elevated above my heart without risking a pulled hamstring to boot.
A relieved sigh escapes as the throbbing subsides. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so happy to be lying on a cold concrete floor in my life.
While I’m still disgusted that I have to take breaks like this, at least they’re becoming less frequent. Nor do I need the heavy-duty pain meds any more. And I did manage to fix that customer’s bike without having to stop. So, all in all, I guess things are heading in the right direction. But still. The end point of that direction is a long way off.
My chest constricts again, but I refocus on the positives. I’m healing. I’m getting to spend a lot of time with my nephew. And there are worse places I could be hanging out during my recuperation than a bike shop. With things to fix. And good-looking women.
While I tend not to be super-choosy when it comes to my type, I have to admit that well-rounded blondes sit near the top of my wish list. Especially entertaining, well-rounded blondes.
Because Lauren is nothing if not entertaining.
I’d almost burst out laughing when she accidentally offered me a hand job. But I could tell she was horrified. And while I wasn’t offended and definitely would’ve said something flirty if I knew her better, making someone feel bad about themselves when they’re already clearly embarrassed hits a little too close to home for me. Doesn’t mean I can’t entertain the idea, however...
Changing Gears Page 3
