Changing Gears

by Roseanne Beck

  Jake’s lips twitch. “Good to know.”

  Crap. Where’s a crowd of people to talk to when I need one? “Anyway, uh... Keep up the good work.”

  The corner of Jake’s lips rises. “I’ll try. Go, Team, right?”

  “Yep. Go, Team.”

  Except this part of the team should probably go far, far away. Because I seriously don’t know how much more awkward I can be. And I don’t want to find out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jake

  DAMN. I DON’T THINK I’ve ever seen anyone move that fast.

  I’d been all set to climb to my feet, er, foot, when the elderly couple entered the booth. But Lauren exploded from her seat like she’d been launched from a rocket, and she’s been chatting with them ever since.

  Guess she really wants to work on her social skills.

  Which is just as well, because I am more than happy to sit here and watch. In a strictly professional sort of way, of course. So I can give her feedback. And not just feedback about how much I’d like to entertain some of those dessert fantasies I’ve been having.

  I shift in my seat, the blood making a trip below my imaginary belt once again.

  Cool it, Jake. Don’t mess anything up. You need this job. And you need to stop wondering what your boss would look like in a whipped cream bikini.

  Dammit!

  Focus on something else. Something not sexy. Something not related to how cute Lauren is when she’s all riled up, her cheeks pink, her green eyes wide and her lips parted like she might—

  Argh!

  Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts...

  Tangled bike chains. Which make me think about her hair, tangled. And running my hands through it—

  Gah!

  Greasy gears. Which are slippery. And dirty. Kinda how I’d like us to be...

  My phone pings, and I pull it out of my pocket. Oh, thank God. Saved by Tracy. Nothing less sexy than your sister. “Hey,” I say. “You and Reece on your way?”

  “Sorry. I was getting him buckled into his car seat to come over, and he started throwing up. Barely made it back into the house before round two started. I don’t know how much he’s got left in the tank, but so far the eggs we had for breakfast and the hot dogs we had for lunch have made an appearance.”

  I slap a hand over my mouth, my gag reflex on red alert. “Ugh. Stop.” The sounds of someone retching in the background trigger a convulsion of my upper body.

  “In the bucket!” Tracy shouts, her voice muffled. “Sorry,” she says to me. “I think you’re on your own for a ride. And if I were you, I’d steer clear of our house for a little while. Not quite sure how long this is gonna last, and I don’t need you adding to the fun.”

  I’ve always been a sympathetic puker, a fact my sister knows well. I still don’t think she’s forgiven me for the time she threw up after having her wisdom teeth taken out, and I wound up ruining the blanket our grandma made for her.

  Tamping down another wave of nausea, I tell my sister good luck and hang up. On the bright side, at least I no longer have a raging hard-on. On the not-so-bright side, there’s a very real chance I’ll wind up blowing chunks in front of Lauren.

  Talk about making an impression.

  “Everything okay?”

  From the look on Lauren’s face it’s a safe bet I look about as green as I feel.

  “Ugh. Give me a minute.” I exhale a shaky breath, then fill her in on my conversation with Tracy.

  Her nose crinkles, but a smile tips the corners of her mouth.

  “What?”

  “Sorry. Just wouldn’t have taken you for a sympathetic puker. It’s kind of nice to see a chink in the armor.” Pink tinges her cheeks as she presses her lips together. “So, uh, how old’s your nephew?”

  “Four.”

  Her face fills with empathy. “Aw. Poor guy.”

  “Me or him?”

  The smile plays across her lips again. “Him.”

  “Shoot. And here I was hoping you’d feel sorry enough for me to keep me company while I wait for Pukefest to settle down.”

  Lauren works her lower lip between her teeth, her brow furrowed as if in deep thought.

  Shit. Good job, Jake. Way to make things even more awkward. It’s obvious she’s trying to figure out a polite way to decline.

  “You know what? Forget I asked. It’s been a long day, and I’m sure you’re ready to get home.”

  “No. It’s not that.” She shakes her head and gives me a wry smile. “Okay. It’s a little that. But only because my introvert meter is full. Not because I don’t want to hang out with you.”

  “Good. I mean, good that you’re okay keeping me company. Not good that your introvert meter’s full.” Whatever the hell that is. “Anything I can do to help with that?”

  She twists her lips to the side. “Not unless you can perform personality transplants.”

  “Well, you don’t want me anywhere near an operating room, what with the whole puking thing. And I definitely don’t think you need a personality transplant. But I can probably offer you dinner.”

  A panicked look crosses her face. “You mean, like a date?”

  While I definitely wouldn’t mind a date with Lauren, clearly, she doesn’t feel the same way about me. “Or, uh, maybe like a bribe? Or a thank you? For saving me from certain death?”

  Relief and something that looks like disappointment war on her face. “Oh. Right.”

  “Plus, we could talk business. I have some ideas I’d like to run past you.”

  Her mouth rounds into an O, surprise clear on her features.

  “Hey. I might not be the smartest guy in the room, but I’m more than just a pretty face.”

  Her cheeks flush, and she clamps her lips together. Following a few beats of silence, a teasing smile plays on her lips. “Well, to be fair, we’re not in a room. We’re outside.”

  I grin. “Technicalities...”

  “Well then, technically, I could really use a burger and a beer to go with the business talk.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful business plan.”

  But if we wind up ordering dessert, all bets are off.

  I ADJUST MY CAST ON the chair next to me, then settle back while we wait for our food. “So, tell me more about the bike program everyone was talking about.”

  Lauren stops toying with her silverware, excitement lighting her eyes. “It’s this new program the City’s putting together. Somebody donated a whole fleet of new bikes, and they’re gonna set up little kiosks where you can rent and return them. The City’s looking for one of the local bike shops to partner with to get it up and running and then do the maintenance.”

  “And that’s what you guys are bidding on.”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah, it is. Not only for the city, but for us, too. It would be another revenue stream, plus great exposure.”

  “Any idea what your chances are?”

  Lauren shakes her head. “Nope. But I kind of think Spence has the best shot.”

  “Why?”

  “Because City Council tends to be one of those good ol’ boy networks, and in case you couldn’t tell, Bike Moore doesn’t exactly fit since Dad died. Plus, Spence has the personnel to handle it.”

  “And you don’t?”

  Lauren wobbles her head. “Well, technically, we have you and our Uncle Pete. Not that you aren’t both great mechanics, but between the two of you, we have three working arms and three good legs, at least for the next few months.”

  “Hmmm... I can see how that might come across as a bit risky.” Our conversation pauses as the waitress distributes our food. “I’m happy to help as long as I can, but I totally get it if you find someone else.” Despite the fact that my burger smells delicious, my gut twists at the thought.

  Lauren pauses, her French fry mid-ketchup swipe. “Why? Are you leaving?”

  “Not yet. Not unless you want me to.”

  “No. Plea
se. Stay. I really like having you around.” Her cheeks pinken. “I mean... You’re a really great addition to the shop. You know, because you’re good with your hands. As a mechanic.” She shoves the fry into her mouth, her eyes skittering away from mine.

  While I definitely wouldn’t mind showing her what I can do with my hands, not as a mechanic, I quash the urge. After all, not only is there that whole boss-employee thing, but I don’t want to risk undoing whatever headway we’ve made today. I have the feeling that if I push too far too fast, she might bolt.

  As much as I like seeing her flustered, I also like it when she forgets to be nervous. Because when she calms down enough to hold a decent conversation, she’s actually kind of funny. And she definitely has more substance than the women I usually wind up with. They’re typically looking for a notch on their bedpost or a check mark in the athlete-slash-famous-person Who-To-Do list. Although if things don’t end up working out like I hope, I might not fall into either of those categories anymore.

  Tucking my tangled thoughts aside, I refocus on the shop. “So, about those ideas I had earlier...”

  Lauren’s shoulders relax, relief washing over her features as she takes a bite of her burger. A dot of ketchup clings to the corner of her mouth, and her tongue darts out.

  Focus. And not on her lips. Or what you want to do to them.

  Lauren raises an eyebrow. “Go ahead.”

  I cough on the swig of beer I’d been using to try to wash down my lust. Calm down. She did not mean to go ahead with kissing her senseless. At least, not right now.

  Giving my head a quick shake, I flash her a smile. “Right. My ideas. Well, Reece has been bugging me to come visit the shop.”

  “Oh. You should totally show him around.”

  “Okay. I will. But I think others might be interested, too. I got the feeling from several of my conversations today that people would like to watch having their bike repairs done. You know, maybe even like a one-on-one class.”

  Lauren’s mouth makes a downward turn. “Huh. Dad always talked about doing that. Never quite got around to it, though. You’d be willing to do that?”

  “Absolutely.” Not only do I genuinely like doing stuff like that, it might help me cement my status with the shop for a while.

  She takes another bite of her burger, her forehead scrunched in thought while she chews. “Are you any good? At teaching?”

  I shrug. “I think so. But maybe just to be sure, you should check me out.” Despite the warning bells clanging in my head, I just can’t seem to stop myself. And if I’m honest, I don’t really want to.

  Lauren gulps.

  “I mean, you said yourself you’re not really good with the bike repair stuff. Maybe you could be like a trial customer. Make sure I’m easy to follow.”

  She purses her lips, her eyebrows pinching together before her features smooth out and she nods. “That sounds like the smart thing to do.”

  I stifle a snort.

  I’m pretty sure the smart thing to do would be to stay far, far away from Lauren and focus on getting my life back together.

  Good thing no one’s ever accused me of being smart.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lauren

  THE WAITRESS CLEARS our plates. “Can I interest either of you in dessert?”

  “Depends,” Jake replies. “Do you by chance have brownie sundaes?”

  While I try my best not to, my gaze flicks to Jake. Heat curls low in my belly as a wicked grin curves his lips.

  “We sure do.” The waitress winks at Jake. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  Jake meets my gaze. “Hers, too.” His eyes narrow slightly. “One or two?”

  “Huh?”

  The corner of Jake’s mouth hitches higher. “One or two? Are we sharing? Or do I need my own to avoid risking life and limb?”

  “Ha-ha.” I roll my eyes and bite back a smile.

  “They’re pretty big. Most people can’t finish one on their own,” the waitress says.

  “Okay,” Jake says. “One big brownie sundae, please.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “As long as you promise not to stab me with a fork.”

  “I try not to make promises I can’t keep.”

  The rumble of Jake’s chuckle makes the heat swirl faster, and I cross my arms to keep the girls from showing him just what, exactly, he’s doing to me. And while parts of me are definitely enjoying what he’s doing, my brain is screaming to abort. Or to at least steer our conversation far away from the dangerous combination of chocolate and whipped cream and teasing. I’m just beginning to feel comfortable with him. I didn’t even fumble over the whole practice teaching session thing. No telling how deep a pit I’ll dig if we keep talking about dessert, though.

  “So,” I ask, after the waitress leaves, “how’d you get into the whole Motocross thing, anyway?” Good. That should be a safe topic.

  “Kind of by accident, really.” He shifts in his chair, a hint of a wry grin on his lips. “I was sort of a troublemaker growing up.”

  I flash him a look of mock surprise. “Really? Someone who races motorcycles for a living was a troublemaker? I never would’ve guessed.”

  His grin widens. “I started out doing stunts on my sister’s banana seat bike, partly because I knew it pissed her off, and partly because I was actually good at it. Saved up for a couple of summers and got myself a ten-speed, and me and a couple of guys in the neighborhood built some jumps and made ourselves a little bike park. Drove our parents nuts, but it kept us out of worse trouble.” He shrugs. “When that thrill wore off, one of my buddies got a motorbike. I tried it, and I was hooked.”

  “And the whole professional athlete thing?”

  “What about it?”

  “Was that always your dream? Or did that happen by accident, too?”

  “Both?” Jake wrinkles his nose. “I wasn’t really good at school. Took my teachers a while to figure out that I have dyslexia, and even after they did, it was still much easier to be out racing than doing homework.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him what he’ll do if he can’t go back to racing, but the waitress returns and sets a gigantic brownie sundae between us. “Enjoy!” she says, laying two spoons on the table.

  “Phew.” Jake holds up one of the utensils. “At least if you decide to cause me bodily harm, it’ll take you much more effort with this.” He slides the other spoon toward me, then digs in. “So, was running the shop always your dream?”

  My gaze snags on the way his lips wrap around the spoon, and I can almost feel any remaining brain cells shriveling up and dying.

  Jake’s eyebrow ticks upwards, amusement dancing in his eyes once again. “You okay over there?”

  I shovel in a mouthful of the gooey concoction, partly to give myself time to recover, and partly because it really does look amazing. “What? Yeah. Great.” Come on, Lauren. Don’t go falling apart now. You’re almost at the finish line. He asked you a question. Something about the shop. And your dreams. And he didn’t mean dreaming about him in the shop, drizzled with the chocolate and whipped cream from the sundae.

  Taking a sip of water, I shake my head. “No. Running the shop was always Kylie’s thing. The plan was for Dad to run it until he was ready to retire, then for her to take over.” The sugar rush takes a sudden nosedive as the memories resurface. “But then he died unexpectedly, and he left the shop to both of us.”

  “Were you working there before he died?”

  “No. I worked in the finance office at the college. Still do, just part-time now.” Although sometimes I seriously wonder if I won’t need to go back and grovel for more hours sooner rather than later.

  I squash the little flicker of resentment that makes an appearance every once in a blue moon. I’d been so close to that promotion.

  “The things you do for family, right?”

  I nod, and a few beats pass before I manage to find my voice. “Speaking of family. How about yours? Are your parents still around? Any other siblings?�
� Anything to get me out of the “what if” hole of my own life.

  “No. Just me and Tracy. Our dad was never around much. He finally took off for good about twenty years ago—haven’t heard from him since. Mom always worked several jobs, so Tracy kind of took on the mother role.” His lips quirk. “Gave her a good reason to be bossy, I guess. Mom moved to New Mexico several years ago. Works at some resort-type thing outside Santa Fe.”

  “Ooh—I’ve always wanted to go to Santa Fe. Which resort? Maybe I should check it out. You know, if I ever get time off for a vacation.”

  “Bare Earth.” Jake squirms, his lips twisted in a mixture of a wry smile and a grimace. “It’s, uh, actually a nudist colony.”

  “Oh.” Heat flares up my neck, partly at the thought of being naked in front of strangers, and partly at the thought of being naked in front of Jake. And vice versa. “Then never mind.”

  Jake shovels a bite of brownie into his mouth. “How about your mom? Is she around?”

  “No. She died when I was in fifth grade. Went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up. We think it was an aneurysm, but no one really knows for sure.” Even though she’s been gone for the better part of my life, the familiar ache blossoms in my chest.

  “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” Jake reaches across the table and lays a hand on my arm.

  “Thanks.”

  We eat in silence for a few moments before Jake speaks again. “So, what do you do when you’re not working at the shop?”

  I relax into my seat again with the mention of a safer topic. “I love reading. And Sudoku.”

  “Sudo-what?”

  “Sudoku. You know... Those number puzzles.”

  Jake’s expression looks like he’s just gotten a whiff of garbage.

  “What? They’re fun.”

  “Yeah. Right. Puzzles with math. I don’t think so.” He narrows his eyes at me. “If you tell me you were a Mathlete, I don’t think we can be friends.”