Changing Gears

by Roseanne Beck

  True to form, Kylie garners a healthy smattering of applause when she’s done. Plopping down at the table, she takes a swig of her beer and nods at me with a wink. “Alright, sis, get up there and show us what you’ve got.”

  What I’ve got is a case of nervous butterflies.

  It usually doesn’t bother me too much when I’m up here singing, but Jake’s not usually in the audience, either. Looking at me with those warm chocolate eyes, his tongue skimming along his bottom lip. Making my skin flush as I remember his lips on mine, his hands running through my hair. Thinking about what we might do next time we get together...

  Dammit, Lauren, focus! You’ve got a song to sing and twenty bucks to win.

  Not that I’m anywhere near as competitive as Kylie, but God forbid she beats me in a singing competition. I’d never live it down.

  I close my eyes when the opening strains of Black Velvet ooze through the sound system, channeling the sultry essence of Alannah Myles. Calm washes over me as I follow the bouncing ball on the screen, the melody acting as a lullaby to soothe the riotous butterflies.

  As long as I don’t look at Jake.

  Because every time my eyes slingshot back to him, electricity dances down my spine and jolts those damn butterflies back to life.

  Somehow, I keep myself together long enough to make it through the song, the trifecta of applause, whistles, and catcalls showing the crowd’s appreciation as the final notes fade away.

  Kylie gives me a high-five as I take a seat, and she grins at Jake. “Top that, sucker.”

  “Wow, Lauren.” Jake gives a nod of approval. “That was amazing.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jake rolls his shoulders and blows out a breath. “Showtime.”

  “Any idea if he can sing or not?” Kylie asks as Jake takes the stage.

  “Nope.” But I can’t wait to get a chance to sit here and stare at him.

  And neither can the majority of the women in the bar, if the excited murmurings are anything to go by. The Blue Hair Ladies are already fanning themselves, and Jake hasn’t even opened his mouth yet.

  Settling himself onto a high wooden stool, Jake pics up the microphone. A cocky smile tilts his lips, and he winks.

  Kylie groans as the opening techy beats of Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack pulse through the speakers. “Aw, crap.”

  Less than a minute in, and Jake’s already got the catcalls and whistles checked off. Even though he’s limited in his movement, he’s making full use of what he’s got. And what he’s got is bucketloads of confidence, a smooth voice, and a good sense of rhythm.

  The bicep flexing and teasing glimpses of his abs aren’t hurting, either.

  “Take it off!” shouts one of the Blue Hair Ladies, waving a couple of dollar bills in the air.

  “Ooh—he’s fighting dirty.” Kylie takes a pull of her beer, her attention locked on Jake. “Is it wrong that I’m kinda turned on right now?”

  “Join the club,” I mutter.

  Kylie’s eyes dart to me.

  “I mean, clearly, he’s a crowd-pleaser.”

  “Yeah.” She turns her attention back to the stage. “We’re definitely not using him to his full potential. Oh, speaking of... Have you two gotten together yet?”

  I cough in an effort to dislodge my wine from my windpipe. “What?”

  “You know... That training session thing you guys were talking about.”

  “Oh. Yeah. That. Yes, we, uh...did that.”

  “So? How was it?”

  “It was awesome.” Crap. That came out breathier than I’d intended.

  Kylie gives me a curious look. “Really? Wow. I guess if he can make you rave about bike how-to’s, he’s a really good teacher.”

  I clamp my lips shut, not trusting myself to either confirm or deny her words. Plus, there’s the whole issue of my brain cells going on strike while Jake continues to work the crowd. Damn. I wonder what he’s like when he’s not in a cast. I wrap my hands around my wineglass to prevent them from fanning myself.

  “I think we’ve been had,” Kylie says, begrudgingly adding to the applause at the end of Jake’s performance.

  Yeah. But what a way to go.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jake

  KYLIE PLUCKS HER KEYS from the table. “As much as I hate to, I think I need to get going. I’m leading the sunrise trail ride in the morning. You need a ride, Jake?”

  “I can take him home.” Lauren’s cheeks pinken. “It’s on my way.”

  Oh, hot damn. Maybe we’ll get a chance to pick up where we left off the other night.

  “Alright. See you guys tomorrow.” Kylie stands up. “And Jake? If the Motocross thing doesn’t work out, I think you’ve got a second career in strip karaoke.”

  The excitement at some more alone time with Lauren bottoms out with Kylie’s words.

  Lauren’s brow furrows as she studies me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Liar.” She presses her lips together. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes widen, and she checks to make sure Kylie’s gone. “Oh, shoot. Did I read this wrong? Did you not want me to take you home?”

  “No. I mean, yes. Shit. I mean, no, you didn’t read it wrong, and yes, I’m glad you’re taking me home.” I take a deep breath, trying to loosen some of the dread squeezing my chest. “It’s just what Kylie said about Motocross not working out. The doc mentioned retirement today at my appointment.”

  “Oh, Jake.” Lauren’s eyes fill with empathy, and she reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Flipping my hand, I twine my fingers with hers, her touch a welcome comfort.

  “Do you know what you’re gonna do yet?”

  “No. It’s just...” I run my thumb along hers and sigh. “I don’t know. I mean, I love racing. But there’s a very real chance that I could throw myself into training after I’m all healed up and still not make it back onto the tour.” My gut clenches. “I don’t want to be a quitter. But I also don’t want to be stupid.”

  Lauren glances at our hands, her gaze rocketing around the bar as she untangles our fingers. “Sorry,” she winces. “Just, uh...too many eyes here, you know?”

  “Yeah. I guess.” While part of me gets where she’s coming from, a tiny part of me is beginning to wonder if it’s more than just the employer-employee thing. Like maybe she’s ashamed. Shit.

  Trapping her lower lip between her teeth, Lauren studies me. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

  A spark of hope ignites. “Maybe. What’d you have in mind?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yeah.”

  She tugs my hand. “Come on.”

  Several minutes later, Lauren pulls into an empty parking lot on the college campus.

  Maybe that whole trust thing was unfounded after all. “Uh... If you’re trying to get me interested in night school, no thanks.”

  She grins. “Nope.” She gets out of the car and waits while I extract myself. “Follow me.” She leads us to one corner of the lot and swipes an ID card at a closed gate. “This is the Baker-Williams Arboretum. It closes to the public at dusk, but employees get extended access.”

  The gate opens with a soft click, and she holds it open for me, then lets it snick shut. Crickets serenade us as we follow a paved footpath through a grove of trees. Our way is lit by tall, old-fashioned, evenly-spaced lamps, and an unusually bright almost-full moon. “Wow. Nice.”

  “Oh, just wait,” she says. “It gets better.”

  As we round a bend in the path, a large pond comes into view. Cattails ring the edge, and a cluster of water lilies floats nearby.

  Lauren sighs. “I love this place. Mom used to bring me here. It’s where I come when I need to think.” She walks to a bench along the water’s edge and sits down, patting the seat next to her. “It’s just so peaceful.” Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath.

  Yeah. Peaceful and much less populated than the bar. On the other side
of the pond, several couples are ambling hand-in-hand, and a few walkers are exercising along various pathways.

  Settled beside her, the questions and negative thoughts recede. My blood begins the journey below the belt as I watch Lauren, her chest rising and falling, her lips pursed as she blows out a breath. She rolls her neck from side to side, and my eyes catch on soft skin that’s begging for exploration.

  Shit. I shift to relieve the increasing pressure in my groin. Is she trying to kill me?

  “So? Is it helping?” she asks, cracking open an eyelid.

  Not in the least.

  “Because if not,” she continues, “there’s always the Pro and Con list.”

  “Pro and Con list?” What the hell is she talking about? Us?

  “Yeah.” She angles herself toward me. “What do you most like about Motocross?”

  Oh, right. Motocross. I give my head a slight shake in an attempt to clear the lust-goggles and adjust my position to mirror hers, resting my arm along the back of the bench. Hmm... What do I like about Motocross? “Speed. Freedom. The camaraderie.”

  She nods. “Okay. And what do you like least?”

  “Losing.”

  Lauren rolls her eyes. “Duh. Dig deeper.”

  “What if I don’t have deeper?”

  She tilts her head and gives me a knowing smile. “You do.”

  “Geez. As if having a shrink for a sister isn’t bad enough...” I heave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Sometimes the lifestyle gets old.”

  Lauren gives me a questioning look.

  “Moving around all the time is fun for a while. But then all the towns start to look the same—same motels, same bars.” Same women. “As much as it sucks to rely so much on Tracy and Craig, it’s been kind of nice to be in one place.” I probably haven’t had this stable of a living arrangement since before I left home.

  “Good. What else?”

  “Giving up.” The words claw their way out before I can stop them. “I feel like if I don’t at least try to come back, then I’m letting Mom down.”

  Lauren lays her hand on mine. “Because?”

  I swallow past the tightness in my throat. “Because she was big on never giving up. With school and my dyslexia stuff and with herself. There were times she was working three jobs just to make ends meet, but she always kept going.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot to live up to.”

  She swipes her thumb back and forth across my wrist, and I huff a laugh. “Yeah. Tell me about it. Then there’s the whole ‘my sister’s a psychologist’ thing. At least I was the semi-famous athlete. What the hell am I if I’m not a Motocross racer?”

  “You’re Jake. The adorable, funny guy who is a damn good mechanic, and one hell of a karaoke singer.”

  Her words loosen the knot in my throat. “Well, someone’s gotta bring sexy back.”

  “You definitely did a good job of that.” Her hand stills on my wrist, and she gulps.

  “Oh, yeah?” I lock my gaze on hers, my blood heating again at the desire in her eyes. “You weren’t too bad yourself.”

  “Thanks.” Lauren’s tongue darts out and traces a lazy trail along her lips.

  Dammit. She is trying to kill me. Oh, hell. If I’m going down, I’m taking her with me. I scoot closer and twine my fingers through her hair. Drawing her toward me, I crush my lips to hers as if it’s the only thing keeping me alive.

  Surprise flickers over her face, but after only the slightest of hesitations she reciprocates, and we pick up where we left off the other night. The purr of satisfaction in her throat makes my groin tighten even more.

  Trying to eliminate any remaining space between us, I shift, and pain ignites in my ankle at the accidental pressure of my foot on the ground. Breaking our liplock, I suck in a breath. “Ow. Dammit!”

  Lauren blinks owl eyes of confusion. “What? What happened?”

  “Ankle.” My knuckles whiten around the edges of the bench as I breathe through the pain. “Fuck.”

  She winces in sympathy and rubs my back. “Better?” she asks when I blow out another long breath and release my death grip on the bench.

  “Maybe?” I shake my head and huff a sarcastic laugh. “Unless you count the fact that I’m now two for two when it comes to killing the mood.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Probably for the best. This is a public place, after all. Plus, we were supposed to be thinking. Not...doing that.”

  “Yeah, but doing that is a lot more fun.”

  Lauren’s brow lowers as she scowls. “Be serious.”

  “I am serious.” I lean forward and steal another kiss, then sit back and pull her closer, tucking her to my side. “And thank you. That was very helpful. Both the talking and the kissing.”

  “Glad to help.”

  She snuggles closer, and I wrap my arms around her. Damn. I’m not usually a snuggler, but this is kinda nice. Her curves nestled against me. The scent of vanilla mixing with the smells of nature. Quiet companionship without the weight of expectations.

  “Tell me about these.” She traces the ink on my forearms, little zings of pleasure following her path.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How long did they take?”

  “A couple of years. Each.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I had to do them piecemeal because of how big they are and because of our schedules and all the travel.”

  “They’re amazing.”

  “Yeah. Gunther’s kind of a legend. When I started out on tour, I was a blank canvas. I’d stop in and see him whenever I was within a few hours’ drive.”

  “What do they mean?”

  “Well, this one—” I lift the arm she’s tracing “—the dragon, is for luck and strength. Plus, he’s a badass.” Gunther’s work never ceases to amaze me. And Lauren hasn’t even gotten the full impact yet.

  “He sure is.” She taps my other arm. “And this one?”

  “That’s my guardian angel. She watches over me and tries to prevent me from being a dumbass. She really has her work cut out for her.”

  “Well, she’s spectacular.”

  “Thanks. You don’t happen to have any ink hiding under that good girl exterior, do you?”

  “Nope. Not that I’m opposed to it, I just don’t know of anything interesting enough.”

  “Oh, I could totally see you with some ink. Maybe a nice Pro and Con list. Or a tasteful so-ko-du puzzle.”

  “Sudoku,” she says, elbowing me in the ribs with a laugh. “And definitely not.”

  “Well, I’ll keep my eye out for something inspiring.”

  “You do that.”

  “Will do. Hey.” I tighten my arm, giving Lauren a light squeeze. “Speaking of inspiring, Kylie’s news was pretty great, right?”

  Her chest expands, her shoulders rising and falling with her sigh. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Somehow I’m getting the feeling you don’t share your sister’s sentiments.”

  She shrugs. “Well, it’s great that we’re in the final three and all, but that still only gives us a thirty-three percent chance of getting picked.” Tension creeps into her muscles. “The shop should be good for a while yet, but there’s a big loan payment due in a few months, and if we can’t pay it off, I’m not sure if the bank will refinance it.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What would you do?”

  Lauren shrugs again. “Not sure. I mean, I’m fine. I can always go back to working full-time here at the school. But as for the shop? Who knows? It’d probably kill Kylie.”

  And me.

  The thought takes me by surprise. I mean, I don’t even have any stakes in the business. Hell—I’m not even sure if I’ll be around in a year. Although, the more I think about it, the more I find I might not mind. Having one place to call home. One bed to sleep in night after night.

  One woman to curl up with.

  I stiffen, trying to figure out where that thought came from.

&n
bsp; “You okay?” Lauren twists and studies me in the moonlight.

  “What? Yeah.” If you don’t count the fact that my subconscious is leaking like a cracked gasket. What the hell is this girl doing to me?

  And better yet, why the hell am I not more freaked out about it?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Lauren

  I STAB THE DELETE BUTTON yet again. Damn Excel spreadsheet. It’s been giving me nothing but grief this morning. Although if I’m honest, it’s probably not the spreadsheet’s fault.

  No, that honor would go to the riot of confusion swirling through my head. Trying to figure out what I really feel for Jake. I mean, he’s so far outside of who I usually go for. Sure he’s hot and funny and I like spending time with him, but is it just exciting because we’re trying to keep it a secret? Am I simply scratching an itch I didn’t know I had? Is he? And how much longer can we keep this up before Kylie finds out? More to the point—do I even care anymore?

  My brain’s busy weighing the pros and cons of telling her versus continuing to keep things a secret. Of course, there really isn’t anything to tell. So far, we’ve only kissed. Granted, they were very good kisses. Like, the panty-melting, I-forgot-where-I-was-for-a-minute kisses, but still. Maybe if things keep progressing, then I’ll consider telling her.

  Although, that’s weird, too. I don’t tell her when I sleep with my other boyfriends. So maybe in this case ignorance really is bliss.

  Wait. Is Jake my boyfriend? We’ve only kissed a couple of times. And we haven’t even really been out on a date. Okay, maybe dinner after Pedals & Medals could be construed as date-adjacent, but I really think that was more of a weird circumstance. And then there was last night after karaoke. The arboretum’s certainly scenic enough for a date spot. But I totally wasn’t thinking about it when I took him there. I really was only trying to help.

  And we definitely haven’t had The Talk yet. Do people even have The Talk at our age? And if we do have The Talk, will it scare him off? I kind of like what we have now, even if it is less defined than what I typically aspire to.