Changing Gears

by Roseanne Beck

I press my lips together, and he heaves a theatrical sigh.

  “Does it help if I got a varsity letter out of it?” I ask.

  “Not one bit.”

  “You sound just like Kylie. She always made fun of me for it, too.”

  “For the record—” Jake holds up his empty spoon for emphasis. “—I did not make fun of you.”

  “Yeah. But I’ll bet you were thinking it.”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation, under penalty of forking.”

  I roll my eyes. “It was one time, Kylie was annoying me, and we don’t even have forks.”

  “True. But I know women. And women hold grudges. And there will come a day when you have access to a fork.”

  I raise my spoon to mirror him. “Or I could just spoon you now and be done with it.”

  Jake’s eyebrow ticks upward, an interested gleam in his eye.

  “With the spoon. Not, like, you know...” Shoot. And I was doing so well, too.

  “Well, I can’t talk about the silverware type of spooning, but for the record, I’m a fan of the other type.”

  I swallow, working hard to overcome the lust suddenly clogging my throat. “Good to know.” Great. Yet another mental image to get out of my head.

  Jake’s phone buzzes, and he gives it a dirty look. “Looks like it’s safe for me to head back to Tracy’s again.”

  “Oh, good.” Despite the fact that it means his nephew must be feeling better, disappointment flares at the thought that our evening is over.

  Jake gives me a questioning look, and our waitress reappears. “Can I get you anything else?” She glances back and forth between us.

  “No. Just the check, thanks,” I reply.

  “Hey, uh...” Jake rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks for keeping me company. And for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

  “It’s the least I could do. Thanks again for all your help today. And for your ideas. I’m really looking forward to the teaching session. I think it’ll be good for business.”

  Not to mention the fact that I have the sneaking suspicion it might just do wonders for my pleasure. And in this instance, mixing business with pleasure has the potential to be a brilliant idea.

  I TOSS MY PURSE ON the coffee table before sprawling on my couch.

  Despite the fact that I put my foot in my mouth on numerous occasions tonight, it actually wasn’t the worst sort-of-but-not-really date I’ve ever had. Especially toward the end, when I started to calm down and began to see Jake as a guy. A totally hot guy, sure, but not the scary, intimidating guy I’d built him up to be. Just a regular guy with dyslexia and a hair-trigger vomit reflex who also happens to be a good-looking athlete.

  And in that light, he seems much more approachable.

  Not to mention the fact that unless I totally misread things, I think he was actually flirting with me. And I was flirting back. Badly, but still...

  Wait. But what if he actually wasn’t flirting? What if that was just Jake being Jake, and I’m overthinking things and end up making a total fool of myself?

  Again.

  Argh! Why can’t I have a built-in gauge like Megan? She always knows which guys are into her. Although, to be fair, most guys seem to be interested in her. Of course, that could be because she doesn’t go around admitting that her hobbies include reading and Sudoku. Or that she was a Mathlete.

  Ugh.

  Buzzing from the coffee table diverts my attention from the confusion swirling through my head.

  Anyone else sending me a text with “911” as the message would be worrisome, but the fact that it comes from Megan is sadly routine. We’ve been using this as the code for “I need an extraction from a bad date” for so long now that heaven help her if she ever does have a true emergency.

  While part of me considers ignoring it, a larger part of me is grateful for the respite. If I’m lucky, it’ll trigger a cease-fire in the argument waging between reason and hope. Or at least cause a temporary truce.

  I call her back, and she immediately picks up. “Lauren. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  A mental image of Megan giving her date a helpless look plays in my mind’s eye.

  “Hang on, I’ll be right there,” she adds, hanging up without a word from me. About a minute later, she calls again. “Hey. Thanks. Dude would not shut up about his Star Trek bobblehead collection. How I missed those warning signs, I’ll never know...” She sighs. “What’re you up to? Want to hang out? Or do you need some Lauren time?”

  I consider her questions. While it has been a really long day, and I have been itching to start that new Charlotte Nichols book, Megan and I haven’t had time to catch up since the night at the bar. Plus, this is the perfect opportunity to go right to the master. See what she has to say about the whole flirting thing. “I think I’m in for the night, but come on over. And bring wine.”

  Ten minutes later, I’m in my PJs, Megan’s kicked off her heels, and we’re both reclining on my sofa with a glass of Malbec.

  “So, what’s new? Anything exciting going on?”

  I study the surface of my drink. Be cool. “Not much. Just work.”

  She crinkles her nose. “Things going okay with Jake? Or did he already quit?”

  “No. He’s still there. So far, so good.”

  “Well, I still think you guys are crazy for hiring him, but I know you were kind of desperate, so...” She lifts her shoulders, her expression saying “what can you do?”

  “He’s actually a really good employee. And a great mechanic. And a really nice guy.”

  “Wait.” Megan’s eyes narrow. “Please tell me you’re not interested in Jake.”

  “What? Of course not. Why would you even think that?” Good thing my couch is flame-retardant, because my pajama pants are liable to burst into flames at any minute now.

  Megan continues to study me, her lips pursed.

  Crap. Maybe a little misdirection...

  “But what if I was interested in someone?”

  “Someone not Jake, right?”

  “Definitely not Jake.”

  “Good. Because guys like him are total players.”

  My voice of reason pumps its fist in victory as hope tells it to shut up.

  “Where’d did you meet this guy?” she continues.

  Uh... Come on, Lauren. Think. Something close enough to the truth to make it believable. Truth-adjacent. “At the shop. A customer. Comes in sometimes for repairs and equipment.” Yeah. Good. Totally plausible. “But I can’t tell if he’s interested, or if he’s just a flirt and acts like that with all women.”

  Megan givens me another long look, then nods, a mixture of relief and excitement on her face. “Well, Grasshopper, you’ve come to the right place.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jake

  LAUREN LICKS A FUDGE smear off her lower lip, her eyes riveted to mine before she leans forward and trails her tongue back down my abdomen.

  She traces a path due south, my groin tightening in anticipation. I shudder.

  “Uncle Jake?”

  Biting back a groan, I will her to keep working her magic. Those lips, that tongue—

  “Uncle Jake? Why are you making those noises? Are you hurt again?”

  Reality rudely replaces my lust-filled dreams as I peel one eyelid open. My nephew’s brown eyes peer at me over the edge of my bed. “What? No. I’m fine.” Disappointed and uncomfortable, but otherwise okay.

  “Good. Hey, Uncle Jake.”

  “Hey, Reece’s Pieces.”

  “Guess what? I frowed up yesterday. A lot.”

  “Yeah. I know. Your mom told me. You feeling better today?” I lift my head to get a better look.

  His cowlick bobs as he nods. “Yep. I’m hungry, too. Mom’s making pancakes. She told me to come get you.”

  “Ah.” That explains the wake-up call.

  His little eyebrows furrow as I shift in bed. “What’s that?” He points to the continued evidence of my sex dreams tenting the sh
eet.

  “Uh...”

  “Is that your penis?” Curious eyes bore into mine.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Why is it standing up? How can I get mine to stand up? Can I teach it to do tricks?” Reece’s eyes disappear, the crown of his head appearing in their place, and I have no doubt my nephew is now exploring the snake in his underpants.

  Tracy keeps saying it’s just a phase, that he’ll outgrow the “self-exploration phase,” as she calls it. Poor, deluded psychologist. As a man, I know better. He’ll be playing with that thing until he dies.

  “Go tell your mom I’ll be out soon. And, uh, don’t mention the tricks, okay?” Don’t need another reason for Tracy to start harping on me.

  “Okay!” Reece’s tiny footsteps fade as he runs toward the kitchen. “Hey, Mom! Guess what? Uncle Jake’s penis stands up!”

  So much for keeping secrets.

  I make my way out of bed, my thoughts boomeranging back to Lauren as I go through the tedious task of getting dressed.

  How much I enjoyed hanging out with her, both during the event and after.

  How much I liked seeing the real her begin to peek through.

  How for the first time in a long time I’ve actually wanted to get to know a woman on a deeper level. Although, her deeper levels are kind of intimidating. I mean, even her hobbies are smart. What the hell would she want with a dyslexic guy who may or may not be a washed-up athlete in the near future?

  But that doesn’t mean she and I can’t have a little fun in the meantime. Assuming she does want to have fun. Although, maybe she doesn’t. I mean, I thought we were flirting and connecting, but then when Tracy texted it seemed like Lauren was relieved that the night was over.

  Damn. Maybe she’s not as into me as I thought.

  The idea halts me on the way to the bathroom.

  Shit. What if she was just being nice?

  I give my head a quick shake.

  Dude. Stop it. Stop overthinking things.

  I stifle a snort.

  Pretty sure I’ve never been accused of overthinking anything before in my life. Of course, maybe a little overthinking would’ve kept my leg in one piece...

  Blowing out a breath, I try to recenter my thoughts. Something I do before races to get my head in the proper place. Because I don’t know where it is now, but it’s nowhere helpful, that’s for damn sure.

  What I need is to focus on something other than my confusing thoughts. Except the place that gives me the best chance of keeping my mind occupied is also the place I have the best chance of being distracted.

  Damn. I really should’ve thought this whole thing through more.

  KYLIE WHEELS A BIKE into the shop and props it against the counter, then leans next to it. “I hear things went pretty well yesterday.”

  “Yeah. I obviously have nothing to compare it to, but I think so.” Especially the after part. I work to keep my expression neutral. “I had a good time.”

  A crease forms between Kylie’s eyebrows. “Yeah. So did Lauren. Which is weird...” She shrugs, her expression smoothing out. “So, whatever you did, good job.”

  Smug satisfaction washes over me. Maybe I’m not overthinking things after all. “Is she coming in today?”

  Kylie shrugs again. “Not sure. She usually works from home on Sundays, but she has been here a little more than usual, so who knows?”

  Interesting. I tuck that nugget away, giving a noncommittal head bob as I make another slight adjustment to the brake line of the bike I’m working on.

  Kylie scuffs the toe of her sneaker against the floor. “So, uh, I just wanted to say thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Testing the brake line again, I tighten the barrel adjusters a few additional degrees. “What exactly for?”

  “For stepping up. I kind of threw you and Lauren under the bus with the event yesterday. But from what I’m hearing, you guys did really well, and I’m impressed with your ideas about adding classes. Not only that, but the customers love your work, and you’ve managed to get the shop somewhat organized, too.”

  “Yeah, well, what can I say? Idle hands, yada, yada.” I grin. “But thanks. It feels good to be a productive member of society again.” Or maybe for the first time, seeing as how Motocross Racer isn’t always seen as the most worthwhile career.

  She tilts her head to the side and studies me. “I am definitely willing to extend our agreement past the trial period. How about you?”

  “Absolutely.” Part of the uncertainty that’s been sitting in my gut for the last few weeks dissolves. It may not be a permanent solution, but at least for the foreseeable future I should have a steady stream of income. Not to mention something to look forward to.

  “Good. Then it’s a deal.” She holds out her hand, and we shake. “Just promise me you won’t up and leave without fair warning.”

  “Got it.”

  Kylie nods. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” She pushes off from the counter and heads toward the door, stopping at the edge of the room. With a sigh, she turns around. “And don’t take this the wrong way. I’m definitely not interested, and you’re not exactly Lauren’s type, but after what happened with me and AJ... Workplace romances? Not a good idea.”

  Shit. Does she know I’m interested in her sister? Doesn’t look like it. She’s not giving me the death glare she had going on when we first met. Looks more like she’s relieved to have said it. Probably just trying to cover her bases. Or what’s that thing Tracy says about people sometimes? Oh, right. Maybe she’s projecting. Or is it transferring?

  Damn. I have definitely been hanging around my sister too long.

  Whatever the hell it is Kylie’s doing, no doubt my best bet is to just go ahead and agree with her. “I’ll try to keep from hitting on your Uncle Pete.”

  She snorts.

  And then, because her words niggle at my pea-brain, I feel obligated to continue the conversation. “But out of curiosity? What exactly is Lauren’s type?”

  Kylie’s eyes narrow.

  Good job, Jake. Way to quit while you’re ahead. Not. That sounded way too much like personal interest. I need a diversion. “She and Spencer were quite chatty yesterday. Is he her type?”

  As expected, the mention of Spencer tightens Kylie’s jaw to the point that I wouldn’t be surprised if she cracked a tooth. “No,” she grinds out. “Lauren tends to go for the nerdy, smarty-pants type. Not the ultra-competitive assholes who wouldn’t know good sense if it hit them over the head.” She shakes her head as if trying to clear it. “But, uh, would you let me know if you see anything funny going on between them?”

  “Absolutely.” I am definitely more than happy to pay closer attention to Lauren.

  What I’m not quite so happy about is the fact that Kylie basically just described Lauren’s type as the exact opposite of me. While I can’t say that I’m surprised, it does lend extra support to that whole “Lauren was just being nice to me” argument. An argument I’m really starting to dislike, by the way.

  But even though I might not be the smartest guy in the classroom, there’s no doubt I’m determined. And right now, despite my conversation with Kylie, I’m determined to keep the pedal to the metal around Lauren.

  After all, as hockey legend Wayne Gretzky said, “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.” And I, for one, have never believed in playing it safe.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lauren

  “HEY,” KYLIE SAYS, RESTOCKING the bicycle glove displays. “Don’t forget I’ve got indoor soccer tonight.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.” Partly because she’s been playing in that same league for years, and partly because it means Jake and I will be alone in the shop.

  My pulse skitters at the thought.

  Following the Pedals & Medals event, we’ve had several days of nonstop traffic. Which is great for business and the bottom line, but lousy when all you want to do is have that damn hands-on session with the hot mechanic in the back
room.

  But it looks like I might finally get my chance. Not only is tonight usually our quiet night, but it’s starting to drizzle. Not too many bike emergencies when it’s raining out.

  “How about you?” Kylie asks. “Any big plans for tonight?”

  My eyes snap from the computer screen to my sister, and I can feel the heat gathering at my neck. “What? No. Why?” I squeak.

  Yeah. Way to keep cool.

  Kylie’s face pinches into one of her “what the hell” expressions. “Geez. What’s with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her eyes narrow slightly.

  Damn. My sister can be like a dog with a bone sometimes. Don’t need her poking around right now. I’m jumpy enough already. No telling what I’d let slip in my current state of mind.

  While sometimes it’s a pain in the butt knowing each other so well, it comes in handy in times like this. Because I know just how to misdirect her. “Hey, uh, which team are you guys playing tonight?”

  She all but snarls and grinds out “Spencer’s.” Just like I knew she would. She’s been muttering about it all week.

  Making a show of looking at my watch, I shake my head. “You should probably get going, then. Don’t want to be late. No telling what Spence would say if you missed your game.” I pull my face into a wince. “He might think you’re scared to play him.”

  Her nostrils flare, and she slams the last of the gloves onto the rack. “Oh, hell no. I’m out. See you tomorrow. Gotta go kick some ass.”

  I bite my lip to keep my smile in check until after she’s stormed out the front door. Honestly—sometimes, she’s just too easy.

  My glee at outwitting my sister takes a backseat to the queasy giddiness at the reminder that I’m now here in the shop with Jake. Alone.

  My heartrate climbs another octave.

  Okay, Lauren. You can do this. Be cool. Just go back and ask him if he’s available for that teaching session tonight. No big deal.

  Yeah. Right. And I’m a mechanical genius.

  Shaky legs carry me to the back of the shop, my knees becoming even more Jell-O-like when Jake looks up and grins. “Hey. What’s up?”