by D. K. Combs
“No,” Bristol said gently after giving the doctor a hard look. “No, he’s not my boyfriend. Look, I’ll come back next week and we can spend more time together. I have a lot of errands to do today.”
The doctor chuckled, the sound fond and warm.
“We will see you then. Thank you for taking the time to stop by, and for this,” the doctor said, patting his coat pocket.
“Anytime,” she said. Each one of the kids who knew her gave her a farewell hug, and then she was taking him by the arm and dragging him off.
“We could have stayed longer—”
“No, we couldn’t have,” she said, shaking her head, looking away from him. “You weren't supposed to come in here, Noah. I asked you to stay in the car. I’ve never let someone come with me when I donate to them. It’s my day, Noah.”
She donated to the hospital? Noah wanted to drag her against him, to hold her tight. She must be an angel, he thought, trying to make sense of all this.
“I know that, but I thought something was wrong. Bristol,” he said, stopping in his tracks. With her gripping the way she was, she ended up stopping abruptly too. “Listen to me. Your secret is safe with me, okay? I won’t tell a soul that the hardass Bristol Thompson is actually a softie. Okay? You’re good. Chill. It’s nothing to freak over.”
He took her jaw in his hand, then slid it down to her throat. Her heart was beating quickly, thumping against his palm, but he must have said the right thing because after a moment, she nodded solemnly.
“So,” he said, putting the conversation and what he’d just seen out of his head. “What do you want to do today?”
“Didn’t you say you had to check on your techs?”
“Yeah—shit, I forgot about that.” Which didn’t make sense. He never forgot about his shop, never forgot about his techs. How did Bristol manage to make him forget about the very thing he lived and breathed for? He shoved the thought out of his head. Yeah, right—he hadn’t put a woman above his shop before, and he wasn’t about to start now. He was just caught up in the moment. That didn’t mean anything.
“Well, if you want to drop me off at my place—”
“Do you want to come with me?” Was he seriously asking that? He’d never offered to take a woman to his shop unless they needed work done. He couldn’t stand the barrage of questions.
“Oh, what’s this do?”
“Can I touch that?”
“What happens if I do this?”
“What are you doing now?”
He knew they meant well, knew they just wanted to show interest in his profession, but seriously… It didn’t do anything but slow him down and annoy him. There wasn’t a single woman he’d ever wanted to bring into his shop—except now.
And that was slightly terrifying.
Why was he putting himself through this? Why was he letting her see a part of him he kept to himself, and why was he trying to unearth hers, when all it would end in is disappointment? He knew how hurt women would get over seeing a guy they’re “with” kiss another woman—it was cause to ruin a relationship, new or old.
After seeing her with those children, seeing the amount of love she could have for something, he knew that once he kissed Madeline, all of that vulnerability would be closed shut. Bristol would block him out, would never talk to him again—and if she did, she’d never trust him again.
So far, he hadn’t done anything to break her trust. He was seeing sides to her he never would have guessed existed.
Soon, that would all be over, which meant he had to start distancing himself.
But after today.
For now, he wanted to relish in his time with her. Wanted to keep their momentum going, even if it was only going to make them crash and burn. He wanted to know more about her, wanted her to know more about him.
He cast her a glance, seeing the indecision warring on her face.
Noah, hating his lack of control, reached over to take her hand. Almost instantly, cold fingers thread through his, and he wanted to kick himself. He was gaining trust, only to break it in a few days...but he couldn’t stop himself.
“I just have to stop in for a second. Then I can take you home, or we can do whatever… It’s up to you.”
She smiled, lowering her gaze, and his stomach tightened with something he couldn’t explain, didn’t even want to explain. All he knew was that he wanted to see more of that smile, even if it made his gut hurt.
“I’d like to see your shop. You’ve seen where I work, so it’s only fair.”
“That it is,” he said, smiling at her even though his heart felt tight.
Chapter Twenty
The shop smelled so familiar. The scent of metal and oil, gas. It all rushed back to her the second she stepped foot through the door he’d led her through, and she had to physically brace herself as memories came rushing to the forefront.
She hadn’t been prepared for it, but then, going to the hospital always left her raw. Always left her feeling...open. She tried to make it there once a month, as a type of therapy. It reminded her of her past, but it also reminded her of how she had liberated herself.
If it weren’t for John, she probably wouldn’t be here today.
Noah put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked back at him. His hand was warm on her shoulder, and that small touch was enough to make her shiver.
“You okay? I know the smell can get a little strong, but after a while, you don’t notice it.”
“I’m completely fine,” she said, shaking her head. Or rather, she would be once he stopped touching her. Even the smallest touches affected her. “Don’t worry about me. Do you want me to stay anywhere while you do whatever?”
“Nah, just don’t get into too much.” He gave her a lingering look, one that had her heart fall to her stomach, and then he walked around a shelf and went to a blonde mechanic who was leaning over a black Harley.
She came farther into the shop, gingerly running her hands over the toolbox. She remembered a lot of the tools once she saw them, from the time she had worked on the Harley. With the remembrance of the tools, though, also came the memories.
“Hey! Look, I got the tire on,” she said, looking up as the door to the garage swung open. The figure stood there, wobbling on its feet. The joy she felt slid away, concern replacing it. “Are you okay? I changed the tire…”
The light from behind him cast a shadow over the man’s face. She couldn’t see what was wrong, but in his hand was the bottle. The brown bottle with the blue label that she had grown to loathe.
He ambled into the garage, and she backed away, not having enough time to get off her hands and knees before he lunged.
Cussing drew her out of the trance, and she shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think about that, she told herself, inhaling deeply. The hospital always did that to her. Always left her vulnerable to her thoughts, to her emotions, to her past. But then, that’s why she went there. She had to. She had to pay John back for what he’d done for her.
“What the hell is going on with this thing?” She watched a brown-haired tech push himself away from an older bike angrily, shoving his hands into his hair. She bit her lip, walking over to him. He had an air compressor hooked up to the bike, and from what she saw, the numbers weren’t doing so good.
“What’s wrong?” She peered at the bike he was working on.
He jumped, cussing again. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m here with Noah,” she said briskly. “What’s going on?”
He frowned at her, then looked at the bike, fist clenching. It was obvious he’d been trying to figure out what was going on for a while now, and by the look of him, he was at his wits end. She should go get Noah, but he was busy helping the other guy.
She might not remember much, but she did remember a few things...although, there was a very strong possibility she might just piss the guy off more. The tech was young—probably just out of high school and still gaining confidence in h
is profession, which made sense when she thought about why Noah wanted to check on them.
“Owner brought it in saying it had a hard start, was backfiring, all this other shit. I checked the air, I checked the compression, I checked the sparks. I checked all that shit.”
She looked it over, tilting her head to the side. “Have you taken off the gas tank yet?”
“Well, yeah, but I—”
“You should probably take it off, again” she said, already having an idea of what was wrong. She wasn’t going to get her hands dirty by actually touching the bike—her sweater had already gotten ruined once, there was no way she was risking it around the oil—but she had no problem telling him what to do.
He sighed. “Whatever. Why not?”
Not before long, the gas tank was off and resting against the wall. He’d unplugged the fuel gage and all the other cords, leaving the top part of the bike bare.
“Now all of the throttle and brake cords have to come off,” she reminded him gently when he sat there, staring. “You want to check the carbs, so get rid of all these cords and hook-ups, and take out the carburetor. Do you have cleaner?”
He started moving with a new purpose, finally understanding what was going on. “Yeah, it’s over on the shelf by the door. There’s a small kit right beside it if you want to grab that too.”
“Gladly,” she said, retrieving the can and the black plastic box. By the time she came back to him, he had the carburetor on his tool cart and was opening it up. She set the stuff next to him, leaning beside him. “There you go.”
He gave her a grin once it was open, and then they both groaned at the sight before them.
“That’s...disgusting,” she said. “No wonder the bike was backfiring.”
“I don’t even want to know the last time this thing was cleaned out. I can’t remember if I clean the inside first—” He stepped to the side, obviously giving her the options to take over. She rolled up her sleeves, grabbing the spray.
“Nine times out of ten—at least, from what I remember—the problem is with the fuel system,” she said, spraying the outside of the carburetor. Once the grease was loosened up, she wiped it down, turning it over.
“I know,” he said, hanging his head. “I guess I just forgot. The air and compression are the easiest to check, and it was acting weird, so the sparks—”
“Don’t really attest to the backfiring as much as the fuel, though,” she pointed out, hiding her smile when he flushed.
“I’m getting schooled by a chick,” he grunted.
“It happens—”
“What’s going on over here?” Noah asked, practically storming up to them. The frown on his face wasn’t shocking. She set the carburetor down, wiping her hands on a rag when the kid handed it over.
“He was having an issue. We solved it. No big deal.” She waved a hand at Noah, setting the rag on the counter. The kid took the hint when she moved out of the way, and finished cleaning out the carburetor—although, she didn’t think cleaning it at this point would do much good. The bike might need a whole new one.
“Hold on,” she said to Noah, before turning back to the kid to let him know what she thought.
“I’m going to clean it out pretty good and then go from there. Thank you.” The grin on his face was earnest—until he saw Noah glaring at him.
“Don’t be a dick.” She put a hand on Noah’s chest when the frown between his eyes grew even deeper. She guided him back to the door, hand still on his chest and warm because of it. His heart thumped under her hand, strong and steady, and she steeled herself against her reaction to him. “I offered to help, okay?”
“You? I don’t—”
She squinted at him. “What is so wrong about me knowing a thing or two about an engine?”
“I mean, there isn’t, I just thought—”
“Thought what?”
“I don’t know, Bri, Jesus. You two were standing close together, and you were working on the bike. I—”
“Noah, that kid is just barely out of high school.” She rolled her eyes, pivoting on her heel to walk away from him. “I’ll be in the car, waiting for you.”
He grabbed her arm before she could walk through the threshold. “I was just surprised—and a little upset that I didn’t get to see the first part. I’ve never been with a woman who knows a thing about bikes. It’s hot, all right?”
She laughed.
“I’m serious. It was sexy, watching you clean the carburetor like you knew what you were doing—and I saw Dustin’s eyes. He thought so, too.” He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She knew the two techs were casting them glances, but she didn’t care.
She was too caught up in the sensation of being held against Noah, of having his scent waft over her.
Her arms came up, winding around his neck. In the background, she heard the sputtering of an older car, but her focus was on Noah only, on the lust in his eyes, on the tenderness of his smile. It was an odd mixture, but it worked. Hell, anything worked for Noah.
“I did know what I was doing,” she whispered, tilting her head back. He groaned, then tightened his grip on her to place a hot, quick, chaste kiss on her lips.
A car door slammed, drawing their attention and breaking the spell. She heaved a sigh—until she noticed how tense Noah had become.
“Oh, shit, boss.” The kid she’d helped came running past them. “I’m not going to be a part of this. The last time you two fought here, I almost got hit with a wrench.”
She frowned, watching him and the other tech run by, until Noah put her behind him with a curse.
“Go to the car,” Noah said, nudging her toward the door. “Or at least into the waiting room.”
“No, who was he talking about? Why are you fighting people here?” Her eyes went wide. She tried to see around him, but his large body blocked her view. “Is it a gang member? Are you fighting a gang member here? Because—”
“No, damn it.”
She finally saw around him—and paused.
Striding toward them was a curvy blonde woman, and she was not happy.
The furious woman was wearing ripped jeans and a flannel shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore no make-up. She wasn’t gorgeous, but she definitely was intimidating.
Especially since she was staring right at her.
“Are you Bristol?” the woman demanded, shouting across the shop until she was closer to them. “Are you? Are you Bristol?”
“Son of a bitch. Bri, would you just get into the God damn waiting room so I can take care of this?”
“How does she know my name?” she asked, frowning between the two of them and ignoring Noah’s request. Was that woman an ex of Noah’s? Going by the enraged jealousy written all over her face, she was going to take that as a hard yes.
“Alex,” he said calmly, obviously giving up on making Bristol leave. He held out his hands when she tried to push past him to get to Bristol. She stayed where she was, watching the scene play out. The woman was huge—not fat, but…thick. She had a lot of weight to her, weight that was carried by muscle. “Alex, I really need you to calm down for a second.”
“Hell no. I didn’t hear anything from you after the other night, and then I pull up to see you two kissing?”
“The other night?” Bristol asked, frowning at Noah.
His face gave nothing away. It was nothing but a hard, stoic mask as he stared at Alex.
“Leave, Alex,” he growled. Alex paused, a reservation lighting her eye until she saw Bristol’s confusion. Her confidence came back tenfold and she laughed, putting her hands on her hips.
“What?” she asked, the laugh turning bitter. “You’ll let me suck your dick while you think of another woman? Is that what you’ll do if I don’t listen? Been there, done that.”
“Woah,” Bristol said, eyes going wide—and then she scowled. “Wait, what happened? Noah—”
Alex peered at her around Noah. “Yeah, bi
tch. You heard.”
The amount of trash oozing off of this woman was astounding. Now that she was up close, Bristol could see the two-inch long black roots that abruptly turned into a yellow blonde. Not only that, but the tank top she wore underneath the flannel looked like it was supposed to be white. Key words: supposed to.
And the way she spoke..
Noah had gone out with that? she thought, nose scrunching.
“This is not the place or time for this, Alex.”
“You know, I keep hearing that, and I’m done with it,” she snapped. “We are going to settle this up right now. I’m pissed that you always left me for this place. You never wanted me to come see you here, and yet she’s here? Kissing you? You never spared me a glance when you were here, Noah.”
Bristol pressed her lips, backing away. There were some things a woman just wasn’t meant to get involved in, and this was obviously one of them. Maybe waiting in the car wasn’t that bad of an idea, she thought with a grimace.
“Alex, I—”
“What kind of bullshit is that?” she asked, throwing up her hands. “And—and did she know? Did you tell her what happened the other night?”
Bristol raised a brow at him. Okay, scratch the car. Now she was curious. His eyes met hers, the apology written all over his face.
Noah wearily turned back to Alex.
“What, that I walked into my house, and you were in my bed? I told you to leave, Alex. I didn’t want you there.”
Bristol leaned toward him, speaking behind her hand.
“Was this after what happened in the car?”
“Shit, yes, Bristol. God, would you go into the waiting room?”
She shook her head. Bristol was not pissed, wasn’t hurt. She was more embarrassed for Alex that she felt the need to create a scene, but then—Bristol was used to the ruse. Sometimes, a potential client would come along. In order to get a better deal, they would throw a fit, create a scene, try to cause issues so that they’d get perks for staying... Bristol saw right through their crap, and she saw right through Alex’s.
She knew enough about Noah that he wouldn’t play around on someone, not intentionally. They hadn’t been anything serious a few nights ago. Shit, they weren’t serious even now. Whatever had happened before, she couldn’t get mad at him for.