Billy grunted again. So much for conversation. Just to bug the big man, Ben pulled up a stool and watched him. He was promptly ignored.
As Billy worked, Ben’s mind drifted. It started on Josey—more specifically, the way she looked when she woke up, half asleep and half turned on. Man, she’d been all sorts of turned on by that high-speed ride down the highway after dark. He wondered if she’d want to learn to ride. Years had passed since he’d last built a bike from the ground up—if he made one for her, would she ride it? Would she even like it?
He shifted on the stool. Being as he wouldn’t get to see her either sleepy or turned on for another couple of days, he forced his mind to move on to less painful thoughts. He saw Billy had some brochures for new—and expensive—equipment on his workbench.
Snatches of conversations from the past few days jumbled together in his head. Grandfathers—white and Indian—lifelong friends—fundraisers. Those concepts didn’t mix with that kid—what was his name? The one with the bad hair? Jared? Or the way people kept a buffer zone around Josey’s mom. But those other kids—the tough ones—those kids had lost almost all of their attitudes when it came to his bike.
Ben started out of his daze. That was it.
“Billy.”
His big brother jumped, dropping a wrench on his boot. “Dammit, what?”
“Would you teach kids how to build a bike?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“At Josey’s school—the boys want to build a bike. They could sell it for a fundraiser.”
“So she has a name.”
Ben bristled. He didn’t bug Billy about his lady friends and he expected the same courtesy. “You’re the one going on and on about Mr. Horton. You’re the one who talks about giving respect, instead of having to earn it the hard way.”
That was what Horton had done for Billy. He’d never held him to an unattainable standard and then punished him for not reaching it. Maybe Ben could do that for those kids. He might never get his father’s respect—but that didn’t mean he had to treat everyone else the same way. He could break the cycle. He could make things better.
“I’m talking about paying it forward. But, hey—you don’t want to help out kids everyone else has given up on? That’s your business.” He jumped to his feet and stomped toward the door.
“Now wait just a goddamn minute,” Billy roared behind him.
Ben pulled up short, making sure to wipe the victory smile off his face before he turned around. “Yeah?”
Nothing with Billy was easy. He let Ben hang for another ten minutes while he fiddled around on the trike. “Can’t have kids running around the shop.”
“They’re building a shop at the school. Josey loved the tools you kicked in.”
Another long stretch of silence. Finally, Billy said, “Can’t build a bike with circ saws.”
Grinning his fool head off would make Billy cagey, so Ben picked up the brochure. Whether his big brother knew it or not, he was easy to play.
“Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t be able to find the equipment. That stuff isn’t easy to come by.”
He sat back down and flipped through the slick marketing copy. The latest in top-of-the-line metal lathes had computerized balancing, accurate to 0.00001 millimeters.
Billy was muttering to himself while Ben moved on to a flyer for a new additive technology printer, which was a machine that could print a part for small businesses. So Ben didn’t build like Billy did. Even he could see the immediate value of a machine that could print out a prototype.
A plan was crystallizing in his mind. If there was one thing Billy loved, it was new and improved. On more than one occasion, he had complained about having to use the same heavy equipment that Dad had been using since the Reagan era. Crazy Horse could order some new-and-improved machinery, and then they’d donate the old-and-unimproved stuff to the school—thereby earning hefty tax deductions and the devoted love of Josey White Plume. And everyone else on the rez, but mostly Josey.
The plans took a turn away from modern technology. A vision of her on a small, sleek machine—red, like her hair—speeding down a sunlit highway next to him popped into his mind. He’d never been a flowers-and-chocolates kind of guy, anyway.
Billy cleared his throat and scratched at his beard, bringing Ben back to the here and now. “I was telling Jimbo the other day, this lathe won’t stay centered for more than three, maybe four rounds. Still got a lot of life in it, but all the extra recalibrating is a lot of downtime.”
No doubt about it, Ben had his big brother right where he wanted him. “Time is money.”
Billy trotted out his fierce look. “Don’t know about teaching a bunch of kids about building a bike, though.”
“Don’t worry about that right now. If you need some new stuff, you should have some new stuff. Top of the line, like your bikes.”
“Yeah.” Billy sounded more enthusiastic. “Been wanting to try out a few things, but on this old stuff…too risky, you know?”
“Gonna take some time,” Ben added. “Gotta move some money around, lay down some financing.” Figure out how to work around Dad. He didn’t say it out loud, but Billy met Ben’s eyes. Going around Dad instead of through him was the only way, because the old man would never sign off on something as radical as a printer that printed parts.
It would take some serious planning to pull it off, but once the equipment was here and Billy was boosting his productivity, Dad would have to agree that Ben was fully capable of making smart business decisions. Once he got over being left in the dark, that was. It was risky, but it was a risk Ben was willing to take.
“I got time.” Billy looked around, a sense of weariness sitting on him like an ill-fitting crown. “All the time in the world.” He shook it off and shot Ben an actual smile. “All this talk of building bikes—and you haven’t built one in years.”
“Actually,” Ben said, feeling the truth of it, “I was thinking about starting one.”
Billy shook his head, like he just couldn’t believe his own eyes. “This Josey must be a piece of work.”
Ben didn’t bristle this time. He was going to take his victory and run with it.
He had a lot of work to do.
*
After a weekend of frenzied housekeeping, Josey’s mom was ready. Ben showed up Sunday night with a box of chocolates and a small African violet. He said nothing about the shabby double-wide trailer that was home. Instead, he complimented Mom on how much he liked the comfortable couch and how cozy everything was. He studied the picture of Josey’s dad, Virgil, and listened intently as Mom talked about his military service.
Over a dinner of fried chicken and baked potatoes, he told them how he’d arranged to donate heavy shop equipment when they bought new computer-based tools, and how he thought it would be a good idea if his older brother, Billy, came out with him after Don got the shop finished and helped the kids build a bike they could auction off for charity.
The more he talked, the wider Mom’s eyes got as her gaze darted between Josey and Ben. Soon all she could say was, “That’s—why, that’s a wonderful idea!”
“They’ll need to be able to operate all the tools first, so it probably won’t happen this school year,” he cautioned, that hidden smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Mom shot Josey another stunned look. “You knew about this?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Ben said with a sheepish smile that was unnecessarily attractive.
He’d wanted to surprise her, something that required forethought and planning. As Mom and Ben discussed the particulars, a warm, taken-care-of feeling spread throughout Josey. This was such a far cry from Matt’s disconnection from anything tribal. That had to make it a good thing, right? After all, Ben was a problem-solver. He was doing what he did best, she realized.
But that didn’t answer the question of what would happen between the two of them when there was no longer a problem to solve. Or when the p
roblem wasn’t something he could solve.
He could donate tools and instruments and even a bike, but he couldn’t make people accept him on anything more than a surface level. He couldn’t be a member of the tribe, no matter how generous he was, just like Grandpa had never truly been accepted by anyone other than Samuel Respects None and his granddaughter, Mary. For all his generosity, for all his goodwill, Grandpa had never been accepted. His granddaughter had never been fully accepted, despite a lifetime of trying. Would Josey ever find her place in the tribe, especially if she was involved with another outsider?
That was the problem Ben Bolton couldn’t fix. No one could.
Again, she was getting way, way ahead of herself. She shut off her brain and forced herself to stay in the here and now, because right now, Ben was the answer to a whole lot of prayers. Josey couldn’t do anything but sit in wonder at this man who had become such an important part of her life in such a short time.
Grandma had always talked about knowing she would marry Grandpa from the first time she saw him. It hadn’t mattered that she’d been six and Grandpa had been ten or that their lives were so different. She’d just known. She’d always known.
Mom had been the same way. The way the story went, she’d come home from college on summer break and had seen the young grass dancer stomping in the middle of the ring. “I believe in love at first sight,” she’d always said.
Josey watched as Ben sketched out the floor space that the donated tools would need. She’d long thought Mom and Grandma had been over-romanticizing the past, glossing over the rough times and willfully choosing to remember only the highlights. She’d certainly never felt anything at first sight.
Until now.
She didn’t know if this was love. How could she? She had no yardstick to measure it by. She’d never been in love, not really. Just that one time…but the way Matt had looked at her when she’d suggested they visit the rez had been enough for her to see that she’d been wrong.
Ben was different. Maybe she was different, too. That didn’t make it love at first sight. But it made it something.
That night, Ben stood on the front step of the trailer and, holding her hands, kissed her. Knowing that Mom was on the other side of the door, listening, had Josey blushing a hot red. She hadn’t felt like this since junior high.
“I had a nice time,” she said in as low a whisper as she could pull off. “Mom loves you.”
“Hmm,” Ben hummed, kissing her again. “When can I see you again?”
“I have to pick up some books tomorrow. But I should be able to get back into the city by Tuesday night.”
“Stay with me.” The way he said it, so serious and yet so hopeful, made her melty. Suddenly, Tuesday was forever away.
“Yes.”
“And Friday night? After practice?”
“School starts in two weeks.” She had a to-do list that was nothing short of daunting. “Will you come to the school this weekend?”
His grin was wolfish as he ran his thumb over her lower lip. “Saturday—after we wake up. I’ll have to leave by four to get to the gig in Sturgis, but we should be able to get the rafters up in the shop.”
She managed not to exhale in relief. For so long, she’d struggled to walk in both worlds. And for way too long, it had felt like a solitary struggle, one that threatened to rip her into two distinct, unrecognizable parts. But right now, she felt almost whole.
So Ben couldn’t guarantee her place in the tribe. So being with him was, in all likelihood, putting her place at risk. The fact that he was willing to work on it instead of bailing made it worth the effort.
“Sounds like a date.”
He touched his lips to hers again as his fingers intertwined with hers. The connection wasn’t sexual—heated, maybe. But there was more to it than just that.
Something more.
Josey wondered if it would be enough.
Eleven
“When’s the new stuff going to be ready?”
This is what passed as conversation with Billy.
“Delivery on the lathe is scheduled for two months from now.”
So far, so good, he wanted to add, but he kept that to himself. So far, he’d been able to keep the costs buried deep within the reports. So far, Dad was unaware of the huge expenditure. So far, this was going to work. But Ben forced himself to remain cautious. Until the equipment was here, where Ben and Billy could defend it—physically, if needed—there was still a lot of room for error.
“Damn.” Billy was like a kid who couldn’t believe Christmas was still months away. A few minutes later, he said, “When do I get to meet her?”
Ben stood back and looked at the frame. The bike was coming together. “Soon.”
No way he could have her stop by the shop again, not after the disaster that was the first time. But he might ask Billy to come over and play pool. That could work.
Lost in thought and focused on grinding the edges off the gas tank housing, Ben didn’t hear the shop door open and shut. He didn’t hear anything until someone clapped him on the back and said, “Ben! My man!”
Even over the sound of the angle grinder, he’d know that irritating voice anywhere. Bobby.
“Wild Bill! How’s it hanging? Still to the left?”
Billy didn’t even manage a grunt of acknowledgment. Ben kept his focus on the metal he was shaping. Over the preceding five weeks, the bike had taken shape at a satisfying pace. He stayed late on the nights Josey didn’t come over, working side by side with Billy. Sometimes they talked; most of the time they didn’t. It bordered on hanging out.
Blue wingtips—Ben blinked, but they stayed blue—walked in front of him. “Whatcha working on, bro?”
“What do you think? It’s a bike.”
Bobby whistled. “Wow. Who is she?”
Billy made an unhelpful, if amused, snort.
“Isn’t anyone going to ask me how I’m doing?”
Billy and Ben shared a look. Did little brothers ever stop being irritating?
“Fine,” Ben said. “Robert, how are you?”
“Touchy, touchy. I’m awesome, thanks for asking. Just came from talking to Dad.” He waggled a finger at Ben. “You’ve been a bad little boy, Benjamin.”
Ben’s stomach sank. Bobby was usually a pain in the ass, but the irritating grin was more menacing than usual. “Get your finger out of my face. What are you talking about?”
“I’ve got big news from New York.”
“Brother,” Billy muttered, and Ben had to agree. Whatever was coming would either be bad or irritating. More than likely, both.
“Hear me out.” Bobby’s voice took on a serious tone. “I’ve been working on a synergistic deal that is going to grow our business across all markets, and I know you guys are going to love it.”
Damn it. Josey had absorbed Ben’s every free moment for the past month and a half. He’d actually managed to put Bobby and deals with producers out of his mind. Ben turned off his angle grinder and set it down. Hitting a man with an angle grinder was bad. Punching him was still on the table.
“You mean, like the jackets that no one buys and furniture that no one sits on? We’re still carrying that loan.”
“Or the time you promised those yahoos I’d build them all those crappy bikes in two weeks? And they sued me for breach of contract?” Billy’s arms dropped. Ben made damn sure not to be in the way.
“Guys, guys! Come on—hear me out. This is totally different. A real game-changer.” He glanced over Ben’s shoulders as heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs and smiled that smile that meant nothing but trouble. “Besides, Dad just signed the contracts, so there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“You rat bastard,” Billy growled, lunging.
On the one hand, Ben hoped Billy would pound the little zit into oblivion. On the other hand, he wanted to do the pounding himself.
“Knock it off,” Dad roared as Bobby easily danced around Billy’s big swings. “When the hel
l are you three going to grow up?”
“They haven’t even let me explain what the deal is, Dad.”
“Dammit, you kids,” he said, sounding older than Ben remembered. He didn’t “talk” to Dad often. Usually, he just mediated the shouting. “I ain’t afraid to set you down the hard way, so sit down and shut up.”
Ben and Billy glanced at each other. They could probably take both Dad and Bobby, but then the police would get involved and Cass would yell at them all for trashing the shop—again. Reluctantly, they backed down.
“That’s more like it. A little family meeting.” Dad let the blatant falsehood of that statement hang for a second before he pulled up a stool. “Bobby here has a hell of an idea. It’s going to mean a lot more exposure, a lot more business—a lot more money. It’s going to make Crazy Horse Choppers the name in custom bikes.”
“How much?” Because, as far as Ben was concerned, that was the only question. What would this cost the company—and would they be able to survive the losses?
“What’s the deal?” Ever the practical one, that Billy.
“I’m thinking big-time, guys.” Bobby managed to look conniving and childishly excited at the same time. Man, Ben hated that look. “I signed a deal with a production company to do a series of webisodes.”
“What?” Ben and Billy asked together.
Bobby had the nerve to look smug. “Webisodes. You know, episodes for the web? This is the first step. We build our platform, bring a dedicated viewership to the table and—” He spread his hands wide. “Boom. Reality show. This is a game-changer, guys. Big-time. This takes us from a boutique brand to an international player.”
Ben shook his head. His ears must still be ringing from the angle grinder. Sounded like the little twerp had said…
“Did you say reality show?” Billy sounded truly surprised.
“We have to start with the webisodes.” When Ben and Billy kept right on staring, Bobby elaborated. “I had a meeting with David Caine, head of FreeFall TV, and he loved the idea of a show that could compete with—and beat—American Chopper. We’ve got it all—gruff father, creative genius, bottom-line boss and me.” He spread his arms wide, like he was welcoming his adoring public. “The total package. Caine loved the personality mix. Said it would lead to the kind of explosive family drama that both men and women aged eighteen to forty-five are flocking to.”
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