“Mind if I take a look?” She asks brightly.
“Are you a mechanic too?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer. Then, before I can argue, she’s steering me out of the room toward the garage. I shoot Micah a glance over my shoulder and he gives me a grinning thumbs up.
“You think you can fix my bike?” I ask, still struggling to keep up.
I don’t know why, but it never occurred to me that Sin can fix things as well as make them. The prototype she’d put together was impressive shit, and she pulled that together in a couple of days.
“I can check it out.” She shrugs. “Might not be able to fix it, but I might be able to diagnose the problem and see what parts you need.”
“That’s better than I can do,” I admit. “It makes a weird rattle when I rev it. That’s all I know.”
“How often would you ride it normally?”
I shrug. “Whenever I need to get out of my head. The surrounding roads are perfect for it. They all seem to go on forever and the closer you get to the hills, the more bends there are.”
“I always wanted a bike, even though they were considered ‘foolish and a spit in the face of The Path’,” Sin says. “But Grizz’s didn’t exactly pay well, so I couldn’t ever afford one even after I left.”
We head inside the garage, which has sat dusty and unused for months now. Pulling the cover off my bike, I reveal my ‘hog’. It’s a Ducatti, cherry red andgleaming.
Sin lets out an impressed hum, and I feel a weird sense of pride warming my chest.
“How long have you had it?” she asks.
“It was my first bike. I got it with our first big paycheck after we got signed. Didn’t realize I was gonna need it so much when I bought it.”
Even as the words come out, I know how I sound and want to roll my eyes at myself. Poor little rockstar with too much fame and fortune and not enough time to kick back and ride the open road. Cry me a river.
Sin doesn’t pick me up on it, though. Instead, she gives one of my biceps a reassuring squeeze.
I’ve realized in spending a few hours with her, she’s a lot nicer than I originally thought.
“Do you plan on doing more riding once you’re done with the tour?”
“I guess.”
She raises her eyebrows, encouraging me to continue and I busy myself by folding the bike cover so I don’t have to look at her. “I can’t say I’ve thought that much about it. It all feels pretty pie in the sky and I’ll believe it when it happens. Until then, I’m not counting my chickens.”
“That was a lot of idioms.” She snorts her amusement before squatting down beside the bike. “Let’s see if we can fix her up for you, so you have something to do with your downtime. I can’t imagine it’s a good idea to just stop everything and have no plans. Not if you’re used to keeping busy.”
She’s probably right. That’s why I burn through our downtime normally. I wind up partying too much and sleeping too much and feeling like shit. Then I find a month has passed and nothing’s been done.
Sin inspects the bike again, circling it before glancing at me.
“Mind if we wheel her outside? It’s a nice day, and the lighting sucks in here. I’m gonna fetch my tools, too.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead stabbing at the door opening button and striding out of the room. Leaving me gaping in her wake.
I pat my bike as I release the kickstand and wheel her out of the garage into the sunshine.
“Let’s see about getting you fixed up, girl.”
And see if I don’t make too big a fool of myself in the process.
A COUPLE OF HOURS LATERand Sin’s busy working away. The sun is bearing down, and she’s grease-stained and glowing with a sheen of sweat.
I hand over a bottle of water, and my chest tightens at her answering smile.
