I still was in shock about everything that had happened. I’d never even thought about my father’s organs saving people’s lives. It was the farthest thing from my mind, and I was upset that it had been. Thinking back, I knew he had been an organ donor—it was why we weren’t with him when he took his last breath. It all clicked as I wandered back and forth in the gravel parking lot, waiting for Griffin to pick me up.
I was pissed at myself for not taking comfort in that fact years before. I would have been so much more at peace with my father’s passing if I had known for a fact that he had saved other lives. What a beautiful thought, and I had deprived myself of it for ten fucking years.
The roar of a Harley grew louder as Griffin made his way into the empty lot.
He pulled off his helmet and patted the seat. “Ready?” he called over to me.
I stalked over to the motorcycle, throwing my leg over and wrapping my arms around his waist. “Nice bike.”
“Thanks, but you need to put this on.” He handed me his helmet over his shoulder.
“What about you?” I asked as I fastened the strap under my chin.
“If we’re not going far, I’m not worried about it.”
“Just up the road. Feel like a beer and some darts?” It wasn’t like we had a lot of options for places to go in our small town, and being in a familiar place was going to relax me a hell of a lot.
“Sounds perfect to me.” He kicked the kickstand and we were off to Got the Shaft.
After a short ride, we walked into the smoky bar. Rhonda raised an eyebrow from the other end, dramatically mouthing, “Who’s that?”
I waved it off, yelling, “Hey Rhonda, two beers please.”
Griffin pulled my stool out for me and helped me up onto it. “Thanks.”
“This place is awesome.” He was looking around the rundown dive of a watering hole.
Rhonda set two longnecks down in front of us. “Twice in two days, I can’t believe my luck.” She smiled at me.
“Rhonda, this is Griffin.” They shook hands. “My dad and I used to come here when I was a kid. It’s kind of like my second home.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rhonda.” Griffin was so polite and chivalrous—I could definitely get used to that.
“Holler if you need anything else, kids.” Rhonda scurried off to talk to patrons not too far down the bar from us.
“So, come here often?” Griffin turned to me.
“As often as I can.”
Silence fell between us. I didn’t know how to keep the conversation moving. I didn’t know what we should talk about.
I cleared my throat. “So, boxing? How’d you get into that?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, when I was a kid, my dad tried to get me to follow in his footsteps and play hockey, but that was a bust. The next sport he got me into was boxing, and it all clicked, I guess.”
As he explained, I took a second to take in his features—the short beard that covered his jawline, his bright blue eyes, the tattoos that covered his entire right arm, how his muscles filled out his t-shirt ever so nicely.
“Did you always want to be a mechanic?” he asked, and I snapped out of my gawking, hoping he hadn’t caught me staring at him.
“I used to help my dad fix up old cars in our spare time. It was his hobby, and I just took it one step further. It helps me feel closer to him in some small way.”
“That’s really amazing. Don’t see a lot of chicks doing what you do. I like that.” He shot me a crooked smile that melted my panties on the spot.
“It’s challenging sometimes. Men don’t take kindly to women knowing more about engines than they do. Makes them uneasy.”
“I can’t even imagine how much flak you have to put up with.”
“Add in the fact that I am a young shop owner, and forget about it. I’m lucky most of people in this town know how good with cars my old man was and have learned to trust me over the years.”
