Jessi

 

I looked around the old shop, smiling sadly to myself. Gosh, I had basically grown up here, playing hide-and-seek when I was a kid, and helping my father out with various things once I got older. Greyhound Custom Motorcycles was one of the most successful chop shops in the state for as long as I could remember, and I always took pride in my father's ability to transform even the most boring, basic machine into something beautiful that practically purred as it raced down the highway.

 

Everything was going to change soon, though, and I wasn't sure how to break that news to my father.

 

Again, I fingered the letter that I had folded carefully into the pocket of my overalls. I honestly hadn't expected a school to accept me—not with my lack of formal design experience and my utter lack of engineering experience. I was good at math, but there was a lot more to automotive engineering than that.

 

Once I started attending classes (in just over a month, I reminded myself), I wasn't going to have much time to work around the shop—at least, not like I normally did.

 

The thing was, I didn't really think Dad would be supportive of any of it. I mean, he'd been harping on me for a few years now to go back to school and get a university education, but I'd hung around the shop, trying to figure out what exactly I wanted to do with my life. He and I had never really seen eye to eye on that. I'd known for a while now that I would be perfectly happy designing bikes for the rest of my life. He wanted me to go into something ...a little more traditional. Given how good I was at math, he'd been pushing me toward computer engineering for a while now.

 

Besides, I didn't really know how we were going to afford any of it. For all that he'd been pushing for me to go to university, the shop just didn't turn enough of a profit for that to really be a possibility. I'd been doing a little work over at a coffee shop on the side, but even with that money and the salary that my father was able to pay me, it wouldn't be enough to pay for one year at school, let alone more than that, unless he was able to net some really big projects.

 

But I wanted to do this. If nothing else, I wanted Dad to trust me a little more around the shop. With all the time that I'd put in there over the years, I felt like I could be doing more—maybe doing some of my own designs or … well, just something. Instead, he had me doing the same things that I'd already done hundreds of times before—mostly paint jobs.. All of it based on his own ideas, and he gave me very clear instructions about what he wanted.

 

Maybe if I had a degree in automotive engineering, he would treat me more like a partner of sorts and turn over some of the business to me so that I could finally try my hand at bringing some of my own ideas to life.

 

I swallowed hard and knocked on the door to my dad's office—a formality that I didn't usually practice. So he knew before I even entered that something was up.

 

“What's wrong?” he asked the moment I entered.

 

I tried a smile, knowing I must look as nervous as I felt. “Nothing's wrong,” I told him. “Just-”

 

Before I could finish what I was saying, the door to the shop flew open and Rip Harris strolled in as though he owned the place, full of attitude. I recognized him because he'd been in there quite a few times in the past. The local motorcycle club, the Hounds of Hades, were some of my dad's best customers.

 

I felt a shudder travel up my spine at the sight of Rip. The bad-boy motorcycle guy was definitely way off limits for me, but I had eyes, and I knew that the man was sexy. With his tattoos spiraling up his muscular arms and that dark, floppy hair that fell into his piercing eyes … I bet he could get any girl in the city if he wanted to. Of course, Dad would freak out if he knew I was looking at Rip like that, even if there was no chance that Rip and I would ever do anything.

 

Rip seemed to know the effect that he had on me, though, and he always leered at me when he came in, winking at me when Dad wasn't looking. Of course, Dad wasn't oblivious, and this time, he hardly needed to look at Rip before he was turning to me, giving me a pointed look. “Why don't you go get to work inventorying the store room?” he asked me.

 

It was busy work, and we both knew that. But Rip wouldn't realize it. I rolled my eyes a little because I was a big girl now and he didn't need to protect me from Rip's looks, but I wasn't about to argue with him in front of one of his clients. So I bit my tongue and went off to the back room, giving one last glance toward Rip, who was currently eyeing my legs, making me feel a bit self-conscious even though I was fully covered by overalls.

 

I wanted to say something to him, but I felt suddenly shy. Instead, I just smiled a little, ducked my head, and went back into the back room.

 

I wondered what sort of project he might have brought Dad, and even without knowing the details, I started thinking through what our work schedule would have to be like over the coming weeks. It had been a while since the Hounds of Hades had been into the shop, so it really could be anything—just a little tune-up, or possibly some big project. I just didn't know, and I wouldn't know until Rip was out of there and Dad came to give me the run-down. But either way, we were going to be pushing things. We already had quite a bit on our plates at the moment, and with college starting up soon …

 

I kind of wished I'd had a chance to talk to Dad before Rip had shown up. I really hoped he wasn't about to agree to more than he'd be able to handle on his own, if I was off in classes. And I didn't think he'd be on board with my idea to hire someone else to cover my shifts during the week while I was at university; he was keen on keeping this in the family, and there would be that question of money again. We couldn't really afford to divert any of the money from the shop to someone else, unfortunately.

 

I frowned and shook my head, grabbing a clipboard and beginning to do inventory. It didn't really need to be done, but I liked to keep myself busy while I was there at the shop, and if I was banished from the actual floor of the shop until Rip left, I might as well make myself useful. Maybe there were some organizational projects that I could tackle as well …

 

I flicked on the radio and hummed along to myself, reflecting not for the first time about how lucky I was to have grown up into a business that I was truly passionate about.