“Nah, now’s as good a time as any.” It really isn’t a good time; I’m busy as hell. I’ve got a new project I should have started last week but here I am, doing Molly’s work. But, little Lainie is here, and she looks so pretty. I wonder what she smells like. Whatever it is, I bet it’s sweet as fuck. “Have a seat.” I point to the only other chair in Molly’s tiny office.
“Alright.” She pulls out the chair from its spot up against the desk. Bending down, she picks up something. Standing up, I see she’s holding a stack of papers and parts catalogs.
I reach out and take them from her, looking all around the office for a spot that isn’t already covered in our mess. Finding a small section of a filing cabinet, I set them there. Sitting back down in my chair, I lean back and place my hands behind my head. “So, where’s this going to be published?”
“Oh, um, online?”
She’s not sure? “Online?”
“Yes. Maybe some other places too.”
“You freelance?”
“I guess,” she shrugs.
She guesses?“So, ask away.” The sooner we get started the sooner I can get back to work.
“Right.” She flips open her notebook and clicks her pen to life. “What is the name of your MC?” she looks up at the walls of the office. “I don’t see your logo or anything.”
“My MC?”
“Yeah, you know, your motorcycle club.”
“This isn’t an MC. We’re a custom motorcycle shop. We restore vintage bikes and build bikes from scratch. Creative bikes.”
“You’re only a bike shop?”
“Yeah.”Only?I chuckle.
“And you’re not a motorcycle club?”
“No.”
“But, I’ve seen people, guys mainly, coming in and out of this place in leather cuts.”
“And?” She’s seen people coming in and out? What’s she been doing? Casing the joint?
“Well, shoot.” She closes her notebook and looks up at me. “I think there’s been some kind of mistake.”
Not from where I’m sitting. “How so?”
She doesn’t get a chance to answer that because the phone rings just then. Holding up my finger, I pick up the phone. “GCM. Keeton.” I pause and listen to one of our vendors. “It’s late?” Shit. I forgot to pay the company that provides our mufflers. “Hang on.” I set the phone on top of the pile of papers and turn to the computer. I must have bumped something because my screen goes blank. Well, not the computer, but the Excel worksheet I had open is gone. What remains is a blank form. “Fuck,” I grumble.
I move the mouse to the tab at the top that reads File, open it so I can do a search but when I type in the company name, there’s nothing there. “Goddamn piece of crap.” I mutter to myself. I’m startled out of my frustration when I hear her sweet voice. “Can I help you?”
“Only if you know Excel.”
“I know a little bit.”
I push my chair back and point at the computer. “I need to find the invoice or whatever for J&D Cycle Parts.”
“Okay.” She steps in front of me tentatively. Looking back at me she turns toward the computer, bending at the waist. It causes her ass to come into full view right before my eyes. My fingers twitch to touch. I’m so distracted I miss her question. “What was the name again?”
Shaking off my momentary lust-filled thoughts, I repeat, “J&D Cycle Parts.”
I hear her click around and watch her hips move, just a little bit, from side-to-side as she types. “Is this it?”
She stands up, moving to her left, pointing at the screen. I roll my chair up and almost wrap my arm around her hips like it belongs there or something. Looking up at her, I get a whiff of her scent. Girly. Flowery. But not overdone. It’s subtle. Damn, it makes me hard. Peering at the screen I smile. “Shit. Yes.”
