With my bike stopped, I hold onto my handlebars and swing my leg over to dismount, panting all the way. “What?” It comes out more like “Wuhhh” you know, due to the catching my breath thing. Besides, it gives me a second because I know what she’s talking about but choose to play dumb.
“That sexy biker.” She frowns. “What’d he say to you besides the part about your craptastic music?” She smirks.
Ignoring her comment about my tunes, I think…Hot?Was he hot?
Answer? Maybe, but it was hard to tell with all that facial hair. Plus, his attitude was very unattractive.
Laura adds more. “He was built like a brick shithouse.”
“Was he?” I shrug, rolling my bike closer to her car. “I hadn’t noticed. All I know is he’s a big ol’ jerk.”
“A jerk? Because he didn’t like your music?”
“He was rude.”
“Rude men can begreatin bed.”
What the hell? “When did this become about sex?”
“Everythingis about sex.” She shrugs like this is something everyone knows. “What can I say? I’ve got sex on the brain.”
She does seem to think about sex a lot. She’s single, and as they say, she loves to mingle. Never married, Laura’s only regret is she hasn’t had a kid yet. Mine too. It was never the right time for Travis. And since our marriage was all about him, it meant it was never going to happen unless he wanted it to happen.
God. Why in the hell did I stay with that guy?
No. I’m not going there.
“You should’ve stuck around then.” I mumble the words but know she can hear me. Rolling my pretty baby-blue bicycle over to the car, I lean it against the bike rack so I can grab my equipment. I spent a pretty penny on this thing because Laura told me I’d hate riding a hybrid bicycle, that I needed a road bike. That’s the one with the skinny wheels and the handlebars that curl, which are more expensive. And you don’t just buy a bike. You also need a helmet, gloves, and a bag that hangs on the back for your stuff. All right, the bag wasn’t required but I bought it anyway.
“I wonder if he’s from around here?”
Great. She’s going to keep talking about the a-hole on the motorcycle.
We both live in a mid-sized city in Iowa called Oakbrook, population just under fifty thousand. After my divorce, I moved here from Des Moines to be closer to Laura and for my job working in Laura’s shop after my divorce was finalized and haven’t regretted it one bit. I miss some of the things a bigger place like Des Moines has to offer, but I don’t miss knowing I could bump into Travis on any given day.
Pulling off my bike gloves, I slip them into my bag. “I’ve never seen him before.”
And hopefully I’ll never see him again.
ChapterTwo
Nate
I decidedto get to work a little early this morning. I love the twenty or thirty minutes alone here before the guys start trickling in. I usually grab a cup of coffee and sit in my office just looking out through a large window in my office onto what I’ve built from scratch. It’s taken years, but I finally got what I’d set out to do when I was sixteen, working with my pops in the garage. He was a gearhead in the truest sense of the term. He could fix fuckin’ anything. Swear to you. He taught me everything he knew, which helped me a lot when I joined the army right out of high school with the intent of learning more. I was in MOS, or Military Occupational Specialty, as a Wheeled Vehicle Mechanic, infantry division. I had the time of my life with the guys in my platoon, but you can take the Middle East and shove it right up your ass. I hated it there. More than hated. If Ineversee a fuckin’ desert in my life again, it’ll be too soon.
My office is situated in the front of the building, so, like I said, I’ve got a window facing out at the shop and one directed onto the parking lot. It’s a sweet location right off the main drag of town and next to a convenience store. We’re easy to spot for anyone who lives here, but since the road is also a US highway, I get a lot of traffic when my fellow bikers pass through. Word of mouth is what’s gotten me here, but being seen hasn’t hurt.
From my desk, I’ve got remote controls of the garage bay doors. When it gets closer to eight, I press the buttons for the doors on my three bays and watch them slowly rise. As soon as they’re about halfway up, I see her.
“What the fuck?” Someone, a woman, on a bicycle is careening my way. It doesn’t look like it’s gonna end well, so I jump up from my desk, wrench the door open from my office, and jog to the closest garage bay. It sounds as though she’s saying something, but I can’t hear her over the music.Shitty bubblegum rock music.Her damn bicycle is wobbling and weaving. I take a few steps out of the garage and watch as her bike slows to a crawl. So slow there’s no way she’s going to be able to keep it upright.
Why isn’t she putting her goddamn foot down?It looks like she’s trying, but…
When her bike literally stops rolling, I watch, like it’s slow motion as she and her bike tip over. I feel like shoutingtimberrrror some shit. Instead, I holler, “Put your fuckin’ foot on the ground, woman.”
Too late.
She’s down.
