A beat of silence. Then, softly, “Literally?”
“Literally.”
His laugh is quiet, shaky, but it’s real. And for some reason, that sound does something to me.
I hold out my hand. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you somewhere to sit before you make a habit of faintin’ into my arms.”
“Kind of a skill of mine,” he says, hesitates, then slips his hand into mine. Warm. Trusting.
And just like that, I know I’m in trouble.
Pulling him to his feet, I stay close until he’s steady, one hand hovering near his back just in case.
“Eli, this customer’s been waiting for over a minute now,” someone barks across the garage. “Make yourself useful and do your fucking job.”
Yeah. I don’t like that.
My head turns slowly…lazy even…but my eyes lock on the voice. I take in the man’s face…square jaw, grease-stained shirt, attitude that needs adjusting…and burn the details into memory. Poor bastard just caught my attention. And not in a good way.
“Shoot, sorry,” Eli says quietly, lowering his head. “I have to go.”
He moves toward the office where Patrick, the current owner, and his lawyer are finally finishing up. I can tell Eli’s trying to make himself small, blend in, disappear. Shame he’s too damn noticeable for that.
Grinning, I follow him, chuckling when he startles as I catch up.
“Nice to meet you, Eli,” I say as we step inside. “You have yourself a good day, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods, that soft voice wrapping around the word. “I’ll try.”
Patrick looks up from the paperwork and grins widely. “Everything looks good. She’s officially yours. I’ll give everyone their termination notice today. They’ll be out as soon as our last order is filled.”
I smile and nod, then glance at Eli, still behind the counter, quietly helping a woman with her bill.
“Except him,” I say. “He stays, if he wants to.”
Patrick blinks. “Eli? He’s dead weight. Kid doesn’t know a wrench from a tire iron. He’s only here for grunt work, and half the time he screws that up, too.”
I know Eli can hear every word. His shoulders stiffen, but he keeps that polite smile plastered on, voice steady and kind as he talks to the customer.
“He stays,” I growl. The tone leaves no room for argument.
Patrick sighs. “Fine. Whatever you say. The rest’ll be out within the week.”
“Good.”
When I turn, the woman gives me a slow, sultry smile, stepping into my personal space.
“Hey there, biker,” she purrs, running her hand down the front of my cut.
“Not the cut, beautiful,” I say with an easy grin, catching her hand before it travels further. “Never touch a biker’s cut without permission.”
“Sorry,” she says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “If you come back to my place and take it off, though, I don’t mind touching everything else.”
“Maybe some other time,” I chuckle.
Then I look back at Eli, who’s trying, and failing, not to watch the exchange.
I wink. “Be seein’ ya soon, pretty boy. Try to keep yourself upright, yeah?”
