But not me. At least, I don’t allow it to.
“I’d like to think so, anyway,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “But I do mean it. You’ve got talent.”
I take a quick moment to pull in a discreet breath and keep myself from reading too deeply into his words.
It doesn’t help that he looks just as gorgeous as he had that night, but now, while in a more private space, there’s an intensity about his focus on me that’s hard to ignore.
And yet, I don’t know his name.
“Flattering…but do you need something?”
His smile doesn’t falter. “I want you to work on my bike.”
I try to keep the skepticism out of my voice, but it isn’t too effective. “What kind?”
“Panigale V4.”
This makes me pause. Maybe he does know more about this kind of thing than I initially assumed.
I know the model, of course. It’s sleek, precise, and definitely not cheap.
My brows lift before I can stop them. “You have a Panigale, and you want to bring it here?”
His words leave him innocently. “Why not?”
“Because most people with that kind of ride don’t come to garages like this. Normally, they’ll throw money at whatevername-brand dealership will kiss their ass the fastest,” I return, unable to grapple with the fact that he seemed to be doing all of this on a whim. I wasn’t one to turn down work, but still. It didn’t entirely make sense.
He lets go of an amused-sounding huff. “Maybe I’d rather throw money at someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“Or maybe you like impressing people with your possessions.”
This time, he cocks a brow at me, looking vaguely surprised by the subtle accusation. “Would it work if I were?”
“No.”
As if it doesn’t sting at all, he grins wider.
“You’re hesitant, I get it. You’ve likely had your fair share of assholes in here,” he says, putting up placating hands. “But rest assured, I’m not interested in the run-of-the-mill service a dealership could get me. I’d rather see what you can do.”
I should tell him no, just based on him scouting me out after the meet. I should clean my hands of him right here, right now.
Guys like him, the ones who dress nicely, have too many expensive things to care about, and can charm easily, they’re always a problem. One way or another, there will be some kind of hang-up, and I’ve spent my whole life avoiding those strings.
But then again…I don’t see Panigales in here often. And, if he’s so willing to throw money at my business, then so be it.
“Fine,” I mutter, vaguely annoyed that his attempts to get his way are unfortunately working. “Bring it in, and I’ll take a look.”
His amusement shifts into satisfaction. “Today?”
“No, I’m busy. Come by tomorrow morning.”
He seems like the type to expect everyone to operate on his time and make exceptions for him, but where I have power, I’m damn well going to use it.
Surprisingly, his smile softens, and for a split second, there’s something else in his gaze. Something calculating. It makes my stomach twist, but at once, it’s gone again.
He hums. “Tomorrow it is.”
I nod, expecting that to be the end of the conversation, but he doesn’t leave right away.
