by A. Marie
“Thanks for bringing me food. I knew you were a keeper.”
I hide my grimace as I follow him to the back of his pickup.
“I don’t know about that.” I do know. I’m not. “It doesn’t look that busy. Did I just miss the rush?” I make a show of looking over the empty bays.
“Marc’s M.I.A. right now and Beck’s been taking off during lunch all week so we’re short staffed at the moment.” His hand reaches for my cheek but I pretend to shoo a fly away. “Beck asked me to take over the Gixxer he was working on before he left for lunch, but I’m happy to sneak away for you.”
My eyes narrow while we eat on his open tailgate. “Do you usually work on bikes?” I don’t remember seeing him working on any motorcycles when I came in with Beckett.
Cruz steals a pepperoni off my slice.
“Not really. That’s Beck’s thing but I can find my way around most undercarriages fairly well.” He nudges my shoulder in what I’m guessing is flirtation but my eyes are still glued to the gaping hole of bare cheese on my pizza.
Gross. On both counts.
What I’d like to say is, “Well, don’t let me keep you from sticking your fingers where they don’t belong. I’ll just be off now, staring at my ceiling until my shift starts.”
What I actually say is, “Cool.”
And I don’t know which response is worse. Or why I’m still here.
What am I doing?
I scan the lot again, careful to add in a “hmm” every few words out of Cruz’s mouth to keep the conversation flowing. Fortunately, the guy doesn’t need much encouragement to run like Niagara Falls and soon I spot Angela coming out of one of the office doors just inside, giving me an excuse to wrap this date up tighter than a professional athlete’s used condom—no room for negotiations here. None.
After cleaning up, we make our way over to Angela and chat while Cruz begins taking out parts that even I know shouldn’t be removed. What was Beckett thinking?
My eyes flick to the open office door.
“Heard you guys are slammed. Did everyone take off and leave you to fend for yourself?” I ask Angela as she folds some towels for the wash. She’s wearing a dark polo shirt half tucked into some khakis with her usual Aviators on the top of her head of long caramel hair. She somehow even manages to bring a beachy vibe to her work attire.
“It’s not too bad. Marc goes wherever Marc goes often enough that we know how to pick up the slack while he’s gone. Coty’s good about not biting off more than he can chew.” I raise my eyebrows looking back at her. “Well, not in business anyway.” We both laugh. “And Beckett, I’m not sure what’s going on there. I figured you would know.”
“Me? Why would I know?”
“He’s been leaving to go home for lunch every day this week. I thought you-” Confusion lines her face before her eyes catch on something over my shoulder then she looks between Cruz and the bike he’s dissecting. Louder than any of our other conversation, she asks, “Did you two enjoy your date?”
Umm. What?
“Cruz!” Beckett barks from behind me making me jump. I didn’t even hear his bike pull in. How long has he been here? “Put the fork down! It came in for new spark plugs, shitbird, you don’t need to take off the fucking tires.”
Cruz holds up both his hands to approach me with a rueful grin. “Okay. Maybe not all undercarriages are alike.”
A loud scoff sounds behind me, closer than before, and I finally chance a look over my shoulder. My neck cranes up because damn, he’s still so tall. Beckett’s narrowed eyes soften slightly as they meet mine and my breath catches in my throat. My body yearns to go to his, to touch him in some way. Any way.
“Don’t hold this against my skill set.”
Huh? Oh, Cruz is still talking to me.
I face forward again, breaking the spell that had fallen over us. Or was it just me?
A peek over at a smiling Angela proves it wasn’t.
“I think a second date is the only way to redeem yourself, Cruz,” Angela says through a twinkling laugh.
“Don’t you have to go on a first date to get a second?”
Cruz looks above me, answering his boss, “We just did. Paige brought the date to me. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Sickeningly.”
Cruz reaches for my…I don’t even know, but I sidestep him, taking a sudden interest in the dismantled GX-R in Beckett’s otherwise immaculate workspace.
“Where were you that you made Cruz take over a job he had no business doing?” I ask Beckett, feeling him at my side before I see him.
“Hey, I’m not that bad.”
We both ignore Cruz’s protest.
“Something came up,” is all he says though.
I finally peel my eyes away from the wreckage spread at our feet and look at Beckett, finding him already watching me. Waiting.
“At the apartment?” I push.
“Maybe.” He shrugs, holding my gaze and putting his hands in his front pockets. The muscles in his biceps flex, revealing some imprints of my nails. I left marks, too. I did climb that tree. Many times. And I didn’t do it nicely.
Before I can question him further, Angela speaks up, saying, “I know. Why don’t you come with us this weekend to the Gorge? We’re all going to a huge music festival. We got a bunch of tents for glamping. You should join us.” Beckett’s eyes grow almost hopeful and I drop mine. “You too, Cruz. You guys can get to know each other better.”
I swear there’s something in Angela’s voice that has me doubting her sincerity. What’s she up to?
“Angie! The fuck? You can’t invite everyone,” Beckett shifts his gaze to Cruz, “and their dog. We didn’t reserve that many tents.”
“I have a tent I can bring,” Cruz offers, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.
I shake my head. “I have to work.”
“Is Saturday still your day off?” Beckett asks and I nod. “We can ride together Saturday morning…after you get off.”
I cock an eyebrow at his choice of words. He knows what he said and he’s not backing off. Not with that guilty grin plastered to his face.
“You can crash with me,” Cruz offers. “I’m sure I can make enough room for both of us.”
Does anyone have a mute button? Holy shit, Cruz doesn’t stop talking. Beckett looks like he’s about to make one himself if I don’t say something soon.
“But we need your SUV, Beckett. It’s called glamping for a reason. All the shit we need won’t fit in Coty’s Camaro and it’ll just blow out of my Jeep. And I’m not risking scuffing Marc’s precious interior,” Angela adds.
Beckett rolls his eyes. “You worked at a coffee stand for like five minutes. Why do you have to take your fancy espresso machine everywhere now?”
“You helped buy it for me! And you like my coffee,” she shoots back, a grin tugging at her mouth.
Throwing up my hands, I start to back out of the bay. “I’ll have my friend, Cynthia, take me.” It’s no rave—I don’t think—but she loves to dance and we could both use the change in scenery.
“I bet three can fit fine in my tent,” Cruz chirps unhelpfully, earning a death glare sent down from Beckett.
“Thanks for the invite,” I say to Angela. “I’ll see you all on Saturday.”
Spinning on my booted heels, I dash across the lot for a quick exit before I have to deal with Cruz a second longer. I did not agree to another date with him. He’s in for a rude awakening when I show up with one of Jesse’s tents. I’ll even buy one before I sleep in the same tent as that guy. If he’s that grabby with pizza toppings that aren’t his, I can’t even imagine what else he’ll try to touch without asking.
Just as I reach my bike, I hear Cruz call out a goodbye followed by an arrogant-as-shit Beckett asking me something.
What’d he say?
“Where’s my shirt by the way? You didn’t leave it somewhere in my room before you left, did you? I’ve been looking for it but can’t find it anywhere.”
Oh. My. God.
His self-satisfied smirk is on full display as I shift on my feet. Every set of eyes in the garage is glued to me as I mount my white and gray bike and lower one of the passenger foot rests, buying time. But why would he do that in front of everyone?
Unless he’s purposely rubbing it in Cruz’s face that we slept together. On the plus side, he probably won’t be wanting that second date now.
Angela stands off to the side with wide eyes taking in the scene. Cruz said Beckett had been taking lunch off every day this week and Angela revealed he was going to the apartment but if that’s true, why hasn’t he said anything when he’s there? Better yet, why haven’t I noticed?
“I thought it looked better on me,” I say with a shrug while affixing my helmet, leaving the visor open. “You want it back?” I jerk my chin at him and watch his smile grow. “Come find it.”
Engine roaring to life, I shift into first and fly out of the lot but not before pulling up into a wheelie, using the back footrest to kneel on just to show the onlookers exactly how unruffled my feathers are.
So what if I slept in his shirt? And who cares if I’ve been wearing it to bed ever since? His sweet earthy smell still clings to the soft material and it helps clear my head after a long shift full of sadness and futility. It’s the only reason I’ve been able to get the little bit of sleep so far this week that I have, and I’m not giving that up.
And fuck Beckett if he thinks he’s getting it back anytime soon. Like I said, if he wants it, he can damn well come and try to take it from me.
CHAPTER 23
Beckett
Dayum.
Pretty sure I’ll never get tired of messing with Paige. Chick is just too damn fun to rile up, plus she never backs down. Ever. Most girls would’ve been embarrassed or pissed about what I just said and how I said it. Yeah, I know it was a dick move insinuating we fucked publicly, at my place of business no less, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted every guy here to know that something is going on between me and Paige. Plus, teasing her gets my blood pumping like no other.
I should go after her.
Dumbfuck McGee shuffles on his feet next to me as we both gawk after Paige.
Fuck me, can she ride. And not just her bike either. Remembering how well she maneuvers whatever she’s straddling has my dick growing hard.
I’m going after her.
Just as I move to follow though, Cruz stumbles beside me, “Hey, man, I didn’t know it was like that between you two.”
Well, that does the trick. My dick now fully scared off by this shit-for-brains talking about my…Paige, I turn to press down on him.
“It doesn’t matter what it’s like.” Or not. Just ‘cause we hooked up doesn’t mean we’re still hooking up, but Cruz doesn’t need to know all that. He still can’t have her.
“Yo, B! That chick hit up your bed? She ride like that out of the streets, too?” another one of my guys jokes and my spine stiffens with my fists tightening at my sides. Motherfucker.
“Listen up!” I call out to every idiot in the joint. Angela stays quiet off to the side, holding in a laugh and I resist flipping her off. Little shit set me up with that date talk and she knows it. “Paige, hot ass biker chick, my roommate, whatever you want to call her,” someone mutters “fuck buddy” and I growl, silencing any more wannabe hecklers, “she’s off-fucking-limits to all of you assholes.”
A chorus of complaints fill the shop but I don’t stick around to listen. I laid down the law and that’s that.
Arriving to Creekwood earlier to find the apartment empty scared the shit out of me. I’ve been going home every day, knowing Paige was there. I don’t know why exactly but I liked knowing she was home, safe. I never bothered her. Just knowing she was there was enough. Since she snuck out of my bed like a thief in the night, I haven’t caught sight of her once and my afternoon visits to the apartment were the only thing keeping me from convincing the guys switching my shift to nights was a good idea. It’s not completely unheard of for people to have car troubles in the middle of the night too, okay?
The worry lessened the second I saw her here before turning sour in my stomach when I realized she wasn’t here for me. I’d hoped for a brief moment that she was being pulled toward me like I’ve been drawn to her. But no, she was on a date with Cruz—soon to be known as Numb Nuts if he mentions sharing a tent with her again.
Over my dead body.
“Here.” I hand off the bag of doughnuts I picked up as Angela and I enter the main office, the cool air blasting my face a welcome relief.
Peeking inside, she scowls. “You don’t need to buy me food all the time.”
“Yeah, well, old habits die hard. And so do people that don’t eat, so chomp chomp. Coty’s orders.” Not really, but I know he still worries about her previous eating patterns resurfacing just like the rest of us, so she can deal with it, whether she likes it or not.
“You’re in so much trouble.”
I ignore Angela, choosing to dive into the paperwork Coty left behind while he’s out scouting location options for a second shop.
“You do know that, right? Beckett?”
“Angie, I love you, I really do, but if you try to set Paige up with another one of my employees, you’ll be out back using the hose to wash cars by hand.”
“Ha!” she barks out while I struggle to find the humor in that statement. I’ll go hook that shit up right now. I’ll even scribble out a little sign that says FREE CAR WASH, DONATIONS ACCEPTED for her. See if she’s still laughing then. I think not. “What about someone that’s not on your payroll then?”
I drop the paper to the desk, leveling her with my best authoritative look I can muster.
“You’re fired.”
Chick just snorts. “Lucky for you, you can’t fire me.”
“You mean lucky for you.”
She takes in the office like she’s a fucking tourist even though it’s as much hers as it is ours. The three of us may have bought and built the place from the ground up, but Angela is the blood flowing through the veins making it a living, breathing force that none of us could’ve predicted.
“No, I mean you. If you fire me then Coty will kick your ass,” now I’m the one snorting, “and hire me back anyway.” She cheeses one of her best smiles at me and I melt a little. Like a tiny bit. The rest of me is still bitter as fuck about her trying to play matchmaker with Paige and, well, anybody. No, I don’t like that one bit.
“Alright, fine. You can stay. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“Don’t talk about my panties.” She waits a beat then adds, “It’s unprofessional.”
“Why can’t I talk about your panties? I used to see the fucking things every time I went to do laundry.” Her jaw drops. “Yeah, the whole building saw your dental floss with fringe,” I say, working to keep my laugh in.
Our building at Creekwood shares a laundry room and while there were many times I had to switch over her clothes when she lived next door to us, I don’t remember the exact details of her underwear. As a general rule, I don’t creep on my boys’ women.
Eyes closed, breath held, I’d grab them with another article of clothing used as a glove then just sort of toss them in the direction of the dryer. If they made it in, sweet. If not, well, Gary from down the hall probably stole them for spank bank material. The old bastard needs it. I’ve never seen him host a single visitor since we moved onto the same floor as him years ago.
Now if he stole Paige’s panties, that’d be a different situation. I’d have to…
“Why didn’t you ever pick them up then?” Angie screeches, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. “That’s so embarrassing,” she whines, making me finally let out the laughter blocking my throat. “Whatever, crotch-mouth.”
I cock an eyebrow at her. Who’s unprofessional now?
“And FYI mine never had fringe. What kind of old ass women have you been with lately to know what fringe is anyway?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I haven’t been with anyone actually. Not since…”
Wait. Have I really not smashed anyone since she moved in? There were a couple stragglers I thought about trying with but just couldn’t make myself go through with it.
Angela plants her ass on the desk, looking me in the eye. “What are you doing?” At my silence, she continues, “With Paige. Are you two friends? Dating? Playing hide the drive shaft?”
My head shakes automatically. “What the hell kind of kinky shit do you and Coty get up to after hours?”
“Who says it’s after hours?” she deadpans, making us both crack up. “I tried asking her but she’s just as stubborn as you are. Maybe worse.”
My ears perk up. “You guys talk about me?”
“Define talk.”
“You know, where you gush about how hot I am and brag about all the charity work I do.”
“Mmm,” Angie pretends to think it over, “no, there was no gushing. And you don’t do any charity work.”
“I’m friends with your ass. What would you call that?”
She waves me away, not taking any of my shit. “Quit changing the subject. There’s something different about you now. You care about her.”
I’m not sure what she’s getting at.
“She’s my roommate,” I say like that clears up any confusion. I mean, yeah, we live under the same roof but my feelings for her have nothing to do with where we lay our heads. I’d be attracted to her whether we lived together or not. It just so happens her close proximity makes things easier.
I almost laugh out loud. Nothing about Paige is easy.
Angela’s hazel eyes squint at me. “Does she sleep in Marc’s bed, too?”
I stand so suddenly my thighs knock into the desk and she has to steady herself so she doesn’t fall off. She doesn’t cower though. There’s no reason to. I’d never hurt her or any female. She’s pushing my buttons on purpose. She wants a rise out of me and talking about Paige in another guy’s bed does just that.
“No, she doesn’t. Fuck. You. Very. Much,” I enunciate each word, louder for the people in the back. “And she never will if I have anything to say about it,” I promise, deadass serious.
