I'm standing in Nate's hot ass bike shop, leaning against the front counter with my arms crossed, defenses high, listening to his tough guy lecture between short bouts of his feverish coughing.

"I've got three rules if this shit is going to work. Number one is that I pay salaries with a paycheck, and I pay commissions with cash under the table. Your salary isn't going to be shit, but it will give you the pay stub you need, plus your commissions should be decent enough if you can sell bikes. It's not rocket science. Harleys sell themselves."

I've learned a couple of interesting things about my new boss this morning. First is that Nate owns the largest and oldest bike shop specializing in sales and repairs of Harley Davidson's in Philadelphia. It's damn near a neighborhood treasure, and has been standing in the same location since his grandfather opened it in the early 1980s. A great place to wash drug money.

Second is that he takes his business very seriously. I can't fuck around in here. I'm going to have to be very strategic about what I say and do.

Third is that Nate talks and acts very differently when he's not around his daughter. He's harder, tougher, and uses way more profanity. The kind of man I remembered was my father's best friend.

It's kind of funny. Without me having to work him at all, he's just revealed to me his number one weakness...Ariana. He's different with her. Softer with her. She is his weak spot, but I totally understand the reason why.

He knows that his daughter is something special.

The total package.

Curvy as fuck, sexy as hell, smart as a whip, sweet as pie (all right maybe not that sweet), but she can cook her ass off. So there's that.

Any father in his right mind would be overprotective of her. God knows what Nate would do if he had any idea that I've been thinking about her perfectly round ass jiggling up those stairs ever since I woke up with a bad case of morning wood.

Not to mention my shower this morning. I relieved myself of a lot of pent up aggression as I came all over those shower tiles. It was the way she spoke to me last night. That heart shaped mouth. Those smart-ass words flying out of it. Plus, the fact that I knew she was only a few steps away from me. Lying in her bed right on the other side of the wall. Just the thought had me releasing myself under the hot streams of water pounding down my back.

Fuck, it felt good.

But God knows what she would do if she knew that was going on right on the other side of her bedroom wall, because it's obvious that Ariana Carter doesn't like me even a little bit.

That's good though. She needs to keep disliking me. It will keep her out of danger. I don't know if Bucky has eyes on me or not, but I imagine he does. So, I don't even want him catching me and Ariana breathing the same air, or he might decide to put Plan B into action right away. Something tells me that he would get greater satisfaction at watching me break Nate's daughter than getting his seven million dollars back. I wonder what the fuck Nate took from him?

"Number two is that I don't pay for health insurance. You'll need to buy that on your own, or have Ariana check you out once a year. Hell, baby girl probably knows more than most doctors anyway."

A brief but dirty thought runs through my head.

Ariana and I playing doctor.

Damn, I need to get some ass...and soon.

"And number three...don't touch Savannah."

Savannah is Nate's only full-time employee. She seems to be a jack of all trades. She does some paperwork, orders supplies, answers phones, but mostly she sells bikes. And I see why. She's hot as fuck. In a 1940s, tattooed, pin-up model kind of way.

She's wearing a black tank with the Carter Bike logo on it, a pair of cut off jean shorts, black Doc Martens, and her hair in some sort of pin curls with a folded red bandana tied around them. She has the perfect look for the shop. A biker's dream. Her major flaw though is that she's outside having a morning smoke. Everyone has their vices, but for me, women who smoke are a huge turnoff. So, Nate doesn't have to worry about me. I'm not interested.

"You sure you don't need me in repairs?" I ask Nate. "I work best with my hands. Did a lot of that while I was inside. Having me try to sell on the showroom floor is probably the worst place for someone like me."

"I only have licensed techs back there. You'd need to train and get your license like everyone else if you want to be a mechanic. Until such time, the only place I can put you is on the floor."

I shake my head in disagreement. Hoping to convince him otherwise.

"That's not where I'm going to be the most effective."

I need to get in the back and make friends with the technicians. They're the ones who probably know where all the bodies are buried. My gut tells me that even though Savannah handles sales, she doesn't know shit. She knows what Nate wants her to know.

"Do you want to go back inside of those four walls and finish serving the remainder of your sentence?"

"No."

"Then why are we still talking about this? You'll learn a lot from selling the bikes."

"Understood."

He turns his back to me when I decide to speak again.

"Why are you doing all of this for me, Nate?"

"Why?" He takes a chug of some orange juice.

"Yeah, why."

"You're Jack's son and he didn't raise no idiot. You just need help getting back on your feet again and I'm just the man to do it. That's why."

I have to ask this.

The question has been burning a hole in my tongue for twenty-four hours.

"So where was all that help a few years ago?"

Nate's eyes grow slightly wider. Evidently surprised by my frankness.

"I haven't asked you anything about why you aren't living in Jack's house anymore. About where all of his life insurance money went. His truck. His gun collection. You know why? Because I understand that shit happens. You should understand that too."

"You saying that you dropped the ball because shit happens?"

"I'm saying that I didn't have no ball to drop. It wasn't my job to raise you right. That was Jack's job. I assumed he completed that job. When he died, you were already eighteen years old. Not eight. When I was eighteen I was already serving in the army, paying my grandmother's bills, and defending this country. Don't blame me for your bad decisions."

He's defensive, coughing like crazy, and in an all-around bad mood now. I shouldn't have said what I did. Having this conversation about would of, should of, could of shit is not going to help my cause right now. I sound like an ungrateful dickhead, and that isn't going to get Nate to trust me. That's not going to help me get my money.

"You're right," I say respectfully. "I won't bring it up again. So, what are the hours I'll be working again?"

"I need someone to work late in the shop when Savannah's here. That's why I really need you out front and not in the back. She works nights and most weekends, but it's not safe for her to be in here on her own anymore. Her mother and I are old high school friends, and she would kill me if something were to happen to Savannah."

Oh, so that's why he wants me to keep my hands to myself. He's probably got a thing for the mom.

"You had a break in or something?"

"No, but things are changing in this area. It was quiet and safe back in the old days, but the neighborhood is changing, so you're going to need to keep a close eye on things. After today, I'm going to need you here from one to closing. You'll work the phones, schedules repairs, and Savannah will sell the bikes. You both will close. She'll handle the paperwork, and you lock up."

Perfect.

"Got it."

Savannah comes inside and starts staring at me like she wants to eat me alive. It's a dangerous look to give to a man who's been locked up with zero conjugal visits, but that's probably the point she's trying to make clear. I can see it in her eyes. If she has any say in the matter, she wants to give me everything I've been missing for the last five years.

"Good, I need to head back home and jump in the bed before Ariana catches me. Savannah will help familiarize you with your duties. I'll come back later to close."

He blows his nose.

"I can help Savannah close today if you want."

Nate looks at Savannah then looks at me. I can tell that he thinks that I want to get my hands on his number one sales girl.

"Why?" he asks suspiciously.

"Bored," I say nonchalantly. "I'm used to keeping busy. Just want to help."

"All right then. See you later. Call me if anything comes up."

"Understood."

"Oh, and baby girl is going to bring her car in to get her backlight fixed. Don't let her leave without making sure that Sammy checks over that entire car."

"No problem."

"Make sure you teach him something on your downtime, Savannah."

"No problem, Nate," she says as she grins suggestively at me. "I'll teach the new boy here absolutely everything he needs to know."

* * *