LARK
After a moment, I realize I have no idea where I’m going. Stopping, I offer Hal a sheepish smile. “So… I actually don’t know where your silicone grease is. Am I going the right way?”
His lips tip up in a genuine smile. “That you are, wild girl. I’ll show you the rest of the way, though.”
It’s only when Hal tugs me along by my hand that I realize we’re holding hands. I just grabbed him without thinking it through, too desperate to get away from Azrael and the random woman.
I can’t lie and say I don’t like how Hal’s hand feels in mine. Much like him, Hal’s hand is big, strong, and warm, making me feel absolutely tiny for once in my life.
Butterflies swarm in my stomach at the contact, and I know I shouldn’t be feeling so giddy from simply holding hands. But I do, and I refuse to examine this feeling too much right now.
As we wind through the garage, I look around in shock at the dozens of motorcycle lifts. Most of them are filled with bikes, and a team of ten or so mechanics are working between the different machines.
I had no idea the shop was so big from the outside. Business seems to be booming, too, if how many bikes are here is any indication.
While I expect Hal to lead me to one of the workstations along the slate-brick walls, he instead brings me to a shiny black door on the back wall. He quickly punches in a code before tugging me into the darkened room.
Flipping on a light switch, Hal reluctantly releases my hand.
When the lights come on, my jaw drops at what must be close to a hundred motorcycles stored in the large room. A quarter of the space is dedicated to a bunch of tool chests, workbenches, and a couple of lifts. The rest of it is taken up by rows and rows of bikes.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many bikes in one place. I thought Charlie and Coop’s collection was insane, with a dozen between the two of them.
Turning to Hal in a daze, I ask, “What is this place?”
He chuckles at the look on my face. “It’s our personal workshop and bike storage. We’ve collected a lot of them over the years and needed someplace to store and work on them.”
“Holy shit. You own all of these? Business must be going really fucking well.” There’s no way a couple of businesses would allow them to buy this many bikes, so I have to wonder where they’re getting the rest of their cash flow from.
He snorts. “You could say that.”
Hal places his hands around my waist and lifts me up. I squeak in surprise and have a death grip on his wrists until he sets me on the butcher-block top of the workbench.
I look at him questioningly for a moment, but he doesn’t explain himself. I let him randomly picking me up go. Hal seems to be the most touchy-feely of the guys, so I’m guessing he just does this stuff without thinking.
Shrugging, I lean back on my hands and get comfortable. “So, you own the dealership, ice-cream shop, and this place. At least, I assume so because it has Colt’s last name on it. Are those all the businesses you own?”
Hal grins at me and shakes his head. “Yeah, we own this place. And not even close. We have over a hundred businesses in Willow Bend and the surrounding towns. We’ve had a long time to build our portfolio up, though.”
I gape at him. “Man, no wonder you ride Ducatis and have hundreds of bikes.”
My family is very well off, but even they don’t own a hundred businesses. Then again, most of their wealth comes from less-than-legal sources.
Hal doesn’t say anything as he opens drawers on the toolbox to my left. He has to rifle through a couple of drawers before he finds what he was looking for. He pulls out a small white tube with a blue top and hands it to me.
“Here’s your grease. Want a Skittle?” Hal pulls a bright red pouch of candy out of his pocket and offers it to me. I can’t help my smile as I accept some of the candy I’m coming to associate with him. After munching on his own portion, Hal says, “Sorry about everything with Az and that rando out there.”
My face heats at the mention of Azrael and that woman. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I still feel embarrassed about the whole situation.
“She seems… nice,” I squeak.
Hal chokes on his laugh. “She is most definitely not nice. Az doesn’t stick his di—” He breaks off and gives me a sheepish look. “He doesn’t go out with anyone who has any redeeming personality traits.”
My heart pangs uncomfortably at that. I’d bet everything I have that I’m too “nice” for Azrael to be interested in. I alreadyknow I’m not Azrael’s type, but it still hurts to have it said so bluntly.
And I really don’t need to be thinking about where any of the five of them are sticking their dicks. The thought of them fucking other women makes me simultaneously furious and depressed.
Knowing I should leave it, I still ask, “Why?”
