Jake
I fiddled with the old radio, trying to find a station that was playing something, rather than just trying to sell me a bunch of useless shit. God, I hated that stretch of the afternoon when radio companies seemed to think everyone was at work and they could just blast everyone with dumb talk shows and bullshit like that.
Finally, I found a decent classic rock station and left the thing on that, humming along under my breath to the Journey song that they were currently playing. But wouldn't you know?
As soon as that song was over, it was time for yet another commercial break.
I almost threw my wrench across the shop in frustration. The only thing that kept me from doing so was the reminder that if I chose to do that, I would only be making more work for myself — and we were working on a deadline that day. A deadline that I already wasn't sure I was going to be able to meet — at least, not unless I wanted to stay in the shop until midnight, which I definitely didn't.
I loved being the owner and sole proprietor of Reaper Custom Choppers and having the flexibility to schedule my own hours and hire whoever I really wanted to work with. That said, I was a bit of a workaholic, and that made owning my own business a bit of a nightmare. I had a really hard time pulling back and making time for myself…
“Hey boss?” Bryce said, poking his head around the door that led into the front office.
“What's up?” I asked, glancing over at him as I continued to tinker away at Lee's bike. It was probably an electrical issue, but I couldn't seem to find the source of it. All the lines seemed to be connected and working properly. But the engine just kept cutting out.
“There's someone here to see you,” Bryce said.
“I'm too busy right now,” I told him honestly, still unable to tear my eyes away from the bike. “Anyway, if the dude's got a problem with his bike, you're more than capable of handling it, aren't you? What am I paying you for, anyways?”
Bryce coughed a little, seeming uncertain — and that was in itself was weird. Bryce had long been his best friend, one of the only people he could count on other than the leader of his biker gang, Devil's Route. “Yeah,” Bryce said, a strange note in his voice. “See, I'd be perfectly willing to help her, only she isn't here about a bike. She's specifically asking to see you.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Well, I'm busy,” I said again.
“I know,” Bryce said. “But maybe you want to at least arrange to get drinks with her or something like that later in the week?” He lowered his voice. “She's fucking hot, man. And I'd love to say that if you aren't interested, I'll get her digits for myself, but I already tried that tactic and she just laughed.”
I finally turned my attention away from the bike and turned to look at him, a frown on my face. “Did she say who she was?” I asked.
Bryce shook his head. “She just said that she knows you and has something really important to talk to you about.”
“Is she in Devil's Route, or—”
Bryce practically cackled at that. “Definitely not,” he told me. “Can't even imagine her on the back of a bike, let alone driving one herself, if I'm behind honest. Don't think I've ever seen her before in my life, either. No idea who she is or what she wants.”
I sighed, giving one last look towards the bike. Well, maybe I needed a break anyway. It might clear my head, give me some sort of brainstorm about just what was wrong with the electrical system. I could only hope…
“All right. Fine,” I said, wiping my hands off on a rag and heading towards the front office.
The woman was every bit as hot as Bryce had alluded. But just like he'd said, she looked nothing like a biker chick. She was sitting on the edge of the office couch, her hands folded demurely in her lap, a nervous look on her face. Her long, auburn hair was the most arresting part of her look — or maybe those witchy green eyes.
She stared up out of that pretty, heart-shaped face, and I could already feel myself growing half hard in my jeans, imagining what she must look like when she was giving a blow job. With those soft pink lips of hers… Well, it was like she was made for that.
She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place her. Maybe she was the friend of a friend, or the kid sister of one of my friends? Or maybe I had just seen her around town. I didn't know why she would have come looking for me in those cases, though.
“Hi,” she said, sounding a little shy. She took a few hesitant steps forward and held out her hand to me. “I'm Halley Talin. Not sure you remember me.” She gave a little laugh. “I mean, I'm pretty sure you don't remember me. Like, 99% positive that you don't remember me. I probably shouldn't have come to bother you at work. But—”
“You're the girl from the bar,” I said, suddenly able to place that face. Granted, that had been, what, five or ten years ago now? And a one night stand, to boot.
I frowned at her, a furrow forming between my eyebrows. Just what was she doing here? Did she think she could waltz back into town and booty call me in the middle of the day while I was at work? She honestly had never seemed like that kind of woman anyway, but this was just a little strange.
“I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here,” she said, and there was that nervous little laugh again. “To be honest, I don't really know what I'm doing here. I mean, I do, and I guess you remember me, so...” She fell quiet, scratching at the back of her neck. “God, I guess I should have figured out what I wanted to say before I got here. But I think if I'd given myself any more time to think about it, I would have chickened out.”
“Oh really?” I asked. I paused, wondering how much I wanted to reveal about the massive crush I'd had on her, about the measures I'd taken in the attempt to track her down. It was safe enough, I figured, to say that I had asked Tiffany about her. “Last I heard, you had moved to Louisiana or somewhere. Georgia, maybe? Are you back in the area, though?”
Halley looked surprised, and that made sense; Tiffany probably hadn't told her that I'd been asking, and she seemed to have left town in a hurry. Though, what did I know? I had only met her that one night, the first and only night of passion that we had shared, so for all I knew, that move could have been in the works for months. Something about the way Tiffany had said it, though…
“Yeah, uh, Louisiana,” Halley said, clearing her throat a little awkwardly. “I went to live with my grandparents down there. I had to sort out some personal things.”
“Oh?” I asked archly. I wanted to press her for details, but it wasn't as though I had ever really known the woman, other than carnally. It wasn't my place to pry. “Well, are you back up here for good, or just visiting?”
“I honestly don't know,” Halley said, sounding lost and unsure. She ducked her head a little. “I just had to get out of Louisiana.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” I said, unable to keep the hint of disdain out of my voice.
Halley laughed musically at that one, though. “No, it was nothing like that. I love it down there, I really do. But I just...” She rubbed awkwardly at the inside of her wrist. “Anyway, I should be back in town for at least a little while. And I just figured, well, I thought that maybe I'd stop by and reintroduce myself. Maybe, uh, give you my number, in case you were, y’know, interested. For some reason.”
I blinked at her, wondering how she could manage to be so incredibly forward and so incredibly shy at the same time. “Here,” I said, grabbing a black marker out of my shirt pocket and stepping forward. “Why don't I give you my number? Then you can call me if you figure out just what it is you're trying to say.”
She smiled a little at that, holding out her arm so that I could scrawl my phone number on the underside of her soft, pale arm. Oh, how I would rather be tracing that path with my tongue than the marker…
“So, I guess I'll be seeing you around, then,” he told her, nodding his head at her.
“Yeah,” she said faintly, biting her lower lip. “Yeah, I guess you will.” Without another word, she turned and strolled out of the shop, swinging her hips a little as she went, showing off her perfect curves in that cute little green dress of hers.
Bryce wolf-whistled as the door shut behind her. “Well, well, well,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Now remind me again, who the fuck is she?”