He sighs, head down. “Clutch has been slipping a bit.”
I hum. “Might just need to adjust the cable tension. Need some help?”
Chin lifted, he arches a brow. “Yeah,Iknow that. How doyouknow that?”
“Jimmy wouldn’t let me get a bike until I learned how to fix ’em. He says a man should never pay another man to do what he can do himself.” I tread closer and perch myself on the small stool next to him. “That surprises you?”
“What surprises me is that he let you have one at all. Aren’t women in your world supposed to ride on the back?”
I scoff. “Don’t be sexist.”
“I saidyourworld. Hot chick on a bike? Sign me up. You forget I’ve seen how you ride.” His amber irises darken. “If anyone belongs on a machine like the one you’ve been ripping around town on, it’s you.” His wrench slips through his fingers and drops to the floor with a loud clatter. “God dammit.”
I snort. “Not all that handy in the garage, huh?”
“Iamthe kind of man to pay another to do the shit I don’t want to do. Unfortunately, the only shop around here that can handle a bike hasyourlast name on it. So I’m stuck trying to figure this out myself.”
Elbows on my knees, I let out a small laugh. “How do you manage when you need more than a wrench to get the job done?”
With a shrug, he says, “Jack helps some.”
My stomach sinks a little. How is it that Jack seems to be happy to spend time with everyone but me, even Decker?
“What?” Decker asks, like he can see the surprise on my face.
“I guess I didn’t think you two were all that friendly.”
“Axe being back in prison for the last bit made us beingfriendlya little easier. Not so much now, though, especially with OPP in town. Hence all this struggling.” He motions to his bike, and with a defeated sort of look, he holds out the wrench. “You gonna help me with this or not?”
Smirking, I take the tool from his hand and kneel beside him. I run my fingers along the clutch cable, then move to his hand lever, testing the tension. “This is really tight.”
He clears his throat. “It was uh, well”—he rubs the back of his neck—“bike wasn’t riding as smooth. The internet told me to tighten it.”
I bite down on my smile. “You didn’t give it enough slack. You’re gonna wear out your clutch plates if you ride it like this.”
Angling towards the machine, I loosen one nut, then another. Like this, I’m hyper aware of how close he is. I can feel his breath on my shoulder, smell the clean shampoo scent clinging to his hair.
With a quiet exhale, I will my mind to stay focused and continue to adjust his cable. Though my fingers are a little clumsier than they should be.
Because he’s staring.
I try to ignore it as I test the cable.
He stares.
I move my attention to his handlebars and make a few adjustments to his lever.
He stares.
“Linc,” I warn.
“Gracie.”
The deep tone of his voice has heat pooling low in my belly. “You’re staring.”
“Can’t help it. You look good like that.”
“Like what?” I force out. “And if you say ‘on your knees,’ I will for real punch you.”
