She thought about what her brother said but ignored it.
Kennedy: I’ll talk to Cree and let you know.
Player: If I come get you, we can spend your birthday together.
Kennedy: That’s playing low ball, brother, and not cool.
Player: And?
Kennedy: We can spend it together next year unless Cree tells me otherwise.
The only way she’d let Player come get her was if Cree told her to do so.
Player: Keep me updated on things.
Kennedy: I will.
Putting her phone away, she looked out the back window, watching the guys load the bike and strap it down. Maybe it won’t take long to fix. With Player offering to come get her all the way from Montreal, it was probably something that took all damn day. She wouldn’t bitch, though, as Cree felt bad enough.
When the guys got in the truck, the driver told Cree there was a decent motel across the highway from the shop. That answered her question about how long it might take to fix the bike.
“I’m hoping it won’t take me more than a few hours to switch out the belts.”
The driver chuckled. “As long as nothing else goes wrong.”
Cree just nodded, not wanting to put any bad juju out in the universe. They had enough of it already. “Is there a diner around the shop?”
“Down a block. It’s a small town. Everything’s within walking distance from the shop.”
“Sounds convenient,” Kennedy said as she stared out the window. She closed her eyes to rest, and the next thing she knew, Cree was waking her up. “Are we at the shop already?”
He snickered. “Yeah.”
Wiping her mouth, Kennedy knew without a doubt she’d been snoring. Shrugging it off, she hopped out of the truck. Still hanging onto the hammock and blanket, she stood off to the side while the bike was unloaded. When Cree pushed it into the shop, she followed behind.
It was her first time in a motorcycle shop, and it was exactly how she’d imagined one would be. Calendars with naked women gracing the pages hung on the walls. Bikes on raised platforms were littered with dirty rags. The smell of oil and grease hung in the air. The far wall was lined with racks of tires and shelves full of parts. A small office was tucked off in the corner, stacked high with much of the same. There wasn’t a chair in the place for a customer to sit.
“Would you want to go find the diner and grab something to eat?” Cree asked her. Why the fuck not? It was better than standing there for two hours. “I can do that. Would you like me to bring you something back?”
“No, I’m good. The less I stop, the faster we get back on the road.”
“Sounds good.” Handing him the blanket and rolled-up hammock, Kennedy left without even kissing him on the cheek.
“She didn’t look happy,” Gene said from behind Cree.
“Nope, she didn’t.” Turning back to the bike, he wanted to kick the fucker. Instead, he pushed it toward the very back lift that was empty.
Three hours later, the bike was fixed, but there was no sign of Kennedy. Settling up with the shop owner, Cree pushed the bike outside and left it parked. Making his way down the sidewalk, he saw that the town was indeed small. One caution light broke up what appeared to be a four-block stretch of businesses.
A half-block down, he passed a resale store. Glancing in one of the windows, he saw a display of Native American inspired jewellery, and he headed inside to take a quick look. Fifteen minutes later and a hundred dollars poorer, he exited with a birthday present for Kennedy.
He found her in the diner reading a paperback. From the looks of the book, she’d probably picked it up at the retail store. A small bag sat beside her.Shit, what if she bought jewellery while in there?“Hey.” He saw her jump and laughed. “You okay?”
“Yes. You just startled me.”
Cree tipped the book up and saw it was a murder mystery. Shaking his head, he slid into the booth across from her. Waving over the waitress, he ordered a soda and a sandwich. “Bike’s fixed.”
“That’s good news, right?”
