Perfect.
He tries to hand me his credit card. I ignore him as I pull out my phone. He bought me an expensive ring. He’s spending all his time keeping me safe. The least I can do is buy a pizza.
Silence settles over the garage, but it’s comfortable. Easy. I watch his hands as he works. Big hands, sure and steady, moving with practiced precision.
He reattaches the front wheel and checks a metal disc I’m pretty sure is the brake. His focus is absolute. Intense. My cheeks heat as I wonder what it would be like to be the object of that focus.
“This one’s almost done.” He eventually leans back and wipes his hands on a rag.
“What kind is it?”
“’73 BMW R32.” His voice warms. “They’re collector bikes. This one wasn’t well-maintained, but I’ve put a lot of hours into bringing her back.”
I grin at his evident pride and lean forward. “Maybe I should get one.”
For the first time since I met him, Matteo’s face lights up. Not a smirk or a half-smile. An actual, full-blown grin that transforms him from dangerously hot to devastatingly gorgeous.
“There are a lot of options for someone like you.” His voice is animated. “Your legs are short, but some bikes have lowering kits. Indian Scout sits low. Honda Rebel’s solid too.”
“But you ride a Harley.” I can’t help but match his enthusiasm.
“I’m a Harley guy. If you want to stick with the brand, we could look at an Iron 883. Low seat. Handles easy. Good beginner bike.”
“We?”
The grin dims. He rubs the back of his neck, gaze dropping to the floor. “I mean, if you want to pick one out yourself...”
I reach out and touch his knee before I can think better of it. His eyes snap to mine.
“Are you kidding? You’re obviously an expert. I need you there.”
“I can teach you to ride, too.”
The offer hangs in the air and something in my chest goes soft.
“I’d love that,” I say softly. “Although my parents will probably freak out if they see me on a bike.”
“Overprotective?”
“They worry about me.” I pull my hand back, but I can still feel the warmth of him on my palm. “I don’t always make the choices they think are right. Viktor being a prime example, and they don’t even know the half of it.”
“Why not tell them?”
“Because I’m protecting them from the truth. My dad has high blood pressure. The stress would kill him.” I take a breath.“I dropped out of college, you know. Went straight after high school like everyone expected. Majored in business because I didn’t know what I wanted, and I figured at least I’d graduate with something useful. But I didn’t even last a year before I couldn’t do it anymore.”
“And they were upset?”
“Yeah. Also worried. What kind of future would I have? What was my plan? I didn’t want to work at my dad’s shipping company and he was hurt.” I shrug. “Then I started bartending, and they really didn’t understand. It’s not that they think there’s anything wrong with it, but it’s not a career to them. No future. But I was doing what made me happy.”
“And you’re still happy?”
“For a while, bartending was enough. But then I figured out what I actually want.” I pick at a loose thread on my jeans. “A flower shop. It’s stupid, but I’ve always loved flowers.”
“Why stupid?”
“I don’t know. It just sounds so... small. When I say it out loud.” I watch his hands move over the bike, finding it easier to talk when he’s not looking directly at me. “My mom had this garden when I was growing up. Nothing fancy, just a little patch in the backyard. But I loved helping her with it. Getting my hands in the dirt. Watching things grow.” I smile at the memory. “She always said I had a gift for it. That I could make anything bloom.”
I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “I started doing arrangements for friends. Weddings, baby showers, whatever they needed. And I realized I love the whole thing. Picking the flowers, figuring out what goes together, making something beautiful forsomeone’s biggest moments.” I pause, thinking about it. “Not just the happy ones, either. Funerals. Hospital rooms. Breakups. Flowers show up for all of it. They add a little bit of lightness no matter what someone’s going through. I like being part of that.”
