by Rhona Davis
“Good. It’s mine. Ain’t she a beauty?”
Fuck, I wish I never fixed it!
He slithers over toward the bike and runs a greasy hand along the handle bars, shrinking the space between us at the same time.
“Just take it and get out of here,” I tell him.
His beady brown eyes bore into me. “I’d like to make this easy, Emma. Why are you being so rude?”
“Don’t you dare speak my name. Just take your bike and leave me alone.”
He shakes his head and closes the gap between us some more. “I know that you wish you could make this all disappear, Emma. I do too. But a debt is a debt.” He runs a hand along my arm, making me shiver with revulsion. “I take no pride in this, believe me.”
I jump back and snatch up a pipe from one of the shelves. “Get out!”
“I know that your sister owes ten grand, so I’ll play fair and make you a deal. Three grand, by this Saturday, Emma, and I can wait a little longer for the rest.”
My eyes round. “We don’t have it.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“We need more time.”
“That’s why you're working this job, huh? To save your sister’s skin?”
I hate him.
He sighs. “Shame to see a girl with your talents reduced to this. Maybe if you came to me in the first place then we could've come to some sort of arrangement.” His perverted gaze works up and down every inch of me.
“You're a monster!”
He grins. “I guess that’s a fair assumption for anyone to make who doesn't do my line of work.” He closes the gap fully, making my back up against the cold brick wall. “Perhaps if you got to know me better then you wouldn't have such feelings.”
Just as I get ready to scream out, Brandon calls out. “Can I help you?”
Scott’s seedy smile fades. “Saturday, Emma. I’ve been patient enough.” He clears his throat and turns to face Brandon. “I was just saying to your apprentice how amazing it was that she fixed my motorcycle. I thought it was destined for the junk yard.”
Brandon’s eyes narrow on me. He looks confused.
“You’ve got yourself a little miracle worker here,” Scott continues. He glances back at me. “I bet she could make anything happen.”
Brandon walks over and hands me a crushed sandwich. I take it from him and try to swallow the breath I was holding in.
“I’ll fetch your invoice, sir,” Brandon tells Scott in a flat tone.
“Great,” Scott replies as Brandon disappears into the office. His eyes snap to me and a filthy smirk rides across his thin lips. “Nice to do business with you.”
Brandon
As I eat lunch, sitting down on a wooden crate at the back of the garage, I’m still in shock at what I saw. Half an hour has passed since I found out that my new receptionist did the impossible.
With my motorcycle sitting idle outside on the forecourt, I push to my feet and walk into the office. “Why didn't you tell me you were good with bikes?”
She drops her sandwich down on the table and leans back on her chair. “I tried to, remember?”
I scratch the back of my head. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Anyway, what can I do now?”
I take a seat opposite her and smile.
She raises a brow. “Well?”
“Do you know anything about older models?”
“What, like yours?”
I nod.
“A little. My dad used to have a bike just like it. Why?”
“I’ve been fighting with it for months. I can’t get her to run the way she used to. It’s my favorite and I don’t want to scrap it, but—”
Cutting me off, she stands up and dabs her pretty red lips dry with a napkin. “Wait here and I’ll go and take a look.”
Before she can leave I stand up after her and take her by the wrist. She flinches.
“No,” I say, softening my grip.
Squinting, she looks down at my hand and then back into my eyes. I release her wrist. “Let’s fix it up tomorrow.”
“No time like the present.”
“True, but I’m closing up the shop for the day.”
Her brows meet. “It’s not long after lunch.”
“We have no more work for the rest of the day.”
“Then now is the perfect time.”
“For drinks,” I add.
She tilts her head.
“Want to grab a beer with me?” I ask.
Her cheeks flush.
“It’s been a long week.”
She sniggers. “It’s Monday.”
“It’s been a long week.”
She smirks. “Okay, but I have to warn you—”
“I promise it’s just a friendly thing,” I quickly cut in.
She frowns. “I have to warn you…I’m as handy at drinking as I am at fixing up bikes.”
“Think you can drink me under the table?”
“Well, I did fix up that client’s bike.”
“You got lucky. Drinking is a different sport.”
She lifts her chin and squints. “One you’d win, huh?”
I nod, biting back a smile.
“Wanna put a bet on?” she asks.
“Only if you're in the mood to lose money.”
“Ooh, thems are fighting words.” Swiping up her jacket and bag, she leads the way.
Chapter 4
Brandon
“What’s the matter? I thought you said you could drink me under the table.”
Emma groans, struggling to finish off the last inch of her third beer. “I never said that, you said that.”
“Ah, but you implied it.”
Her button nose creases as she knocks back the final mouthful of her beer, slamming the glass down on the table when she’s done. “There. Happy?”
“Don’t you owe me some money?”
“We never shook on it.”
Touché.
Just as I suggest having another, she holds her hands up. “I’m done.”
“Really?”
She checks her watch. “I have to get back home to my sister.”
“Why, you under curfew?”
“No. But she’ll worry.”
“Sure you won’t have dinner with me first?”
Her brows meet.
I shrug. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Isn't that against company policy?”
“What?”
“Dating your employee?”
I lean back and chuckle. “Well, it’s my company for one, and two, who said it was a date?”
She pauses.
“I’ve really enjoyed today, Emma. And I admit it, you gave me a run for my money on the bike. Maybe tomorrow we can forget the whole receptionist thing and you can help me out, like, permanently.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, why not? It’s not like our phone is on fire with new clients. We can both take bookings as and when they come in.” I swirl the last remnants of beer around in my glass and look down at the lip of table. “Truth is, running a business in a small town is much harder than I thought it would be.”
“So why did you come here?”
I find her gaze again. “I used to be a biker, in a gang.”
“What, like, Hell’s Angels?”
“No. A budget version maybe.” I smile. “I’ve travelled the length and breadth of the country for the last twenty years. It felt right to settle down into a quieter life.”
“God, twenty years?” She sniggers. “I would have been two when you first hit the road.”
“Ouch, that hurts.”
“Sorry, old man!” She bursts out laughing.
“Alright, smart ass, no need to make a big deal out of it.”
She laughs a little more before calming. “Okay, so you wanted the simpler life, but why this town?”
“I grew up here.”
“Oh, so you're a native?”
“Born and bred.” I gulp back the
last sip of my beer and straighten up. “Anyway, what about you, what’s your story?”
“Same. Born and bred. I live alone with my sister. Our parents died three years ago. I dropped out of college. And we’re struggling to make ends meet.”
I laugh. “Whoa! A whole life history in two seconds.”
“Well you did ask.”
I pause, studying her like I’m studying a beautiful painting.
“Alright,” she says, “I’ll just one more drink. But then I go home.”
More than happy that she’s changed her mind, I get the attention of a waitress and order us another beer. As we wait, I lean forward. “Who was that guy?”
She looks around the bar. “What, the barman?”
“No. The client from earlier. He seemed to know you.”
Her gaze falls and the cute smile on her face vanishes like it was never there in the first place.
“Ex boyfriend?”
Her face screws up. “Eww. No way!”
Just as I get ready to dig a little deeper, the waitress brings over our beers. We sit in silence for a few moments before she speaks again. “Trust me, Brandon, you don’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
Cradling her beer, she meets my gaze.
I smile. “A problem shared is a problem halved.”
Just as I think she’s about to confide in me, she pushes to her feet. I frown as I watch her put on her jacket. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be in early tomorrow. Fix up that bike of yours.”
I jerk my chin to her glass. “But we’ve just got fresh beer.”
“I’m tired, Mr. Marshall.”
“Brandon,” I correct. “Did I do something wrong?”
A slight smile—one that is sweet, but seems to mask her true emotions—briefly flashes across her lips. “No. Not at all.” She stalls for a few seconds, like she doesn't really want to leave, and then smiles again. “Goodnight, Brandon.”
With that, she walks away.
I stay sat at the table. I don’t want to chase her out of the bar and press her any further.
Bringing up the subject of that client seemed to have changed her demeanor in a split second. If she’s in trouble I want to know. Something makes me want to protect her. But as comfortable as I feel in her company, hoping that she feels the same, we’re still very much strangers.
Perhaps tomorrow I can get her to talk?
Hell, perhaps tomorrow she’ll join me for that dinner and forget about anything that seems to be bothering her? I’d do anything to share a candlelit meal with the first girl who’s made me feel like no other girl has.
As bad as it is, at forty, love has never been on my radar. I never even knew what love could feel like until today. Either I’m going soft in my old age, or Emma is more special that she even realizes… I’m leaning toward the latter.
Emma
As soon as I walk through the front door, I make a dash for the sofa and crash down on it. I’m exhausted; exhausted by that loan shark tracking me down, and exhausted by the laugher I shared with my new boss. Today has been a rollercoaster of emotions.
Hearing that I’m back home, Beth comes running out of her bedroom to greet me. She looks excited. “So, how was it?”
“How was what?”
“Your first day…come on, spill the beans. Is your new boss even hotter than you remembered?”
I lazily look up at her as she hovers over me, lounged out on the sofa like a thirsty bug wilting under a hot sun. “Why did you have to tell that dirtbag where I worked?”
Her smile fades. “He came to see me when you left for work. I didn't know what to do.”
I straighten up like an arrow and glare at her. “Great! He knows where we live, and now he knows where I work. Can’t I have a little bit of a life of my own?”
“I’m sorry, Em, I didn't think straight.”
I push from the sofa and sigh. “Whatever. I’m going for a shower.”
Just as I go to walk off, she calls out to me. “Em, Wait!”
I stop. “What?”
“I didn't mean it. When he came over he scared me.”
“Scared you?”
“Yeah, he’s getting real pushy now.”
My hands ball into fists.
“I’m sorry, Emma. I’m sure we can work it out.” She smiles. “I saved five-hundred this month.”
“He wants three grand.”
She gasps.
“Yeah,” I continue. “By Saturday. And that’s just for starters.”
“What are we going to do?”
I blow up. “What are you going to do! Why do I have to clean up your shit?!”
“Emma, please, I—”
“You're supposed to be my big sister!” I rage. “You said you’d always protect me!”
She walks toward me, her eyes glazing with tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you to tell me that you're sorry. You're always sorry. I’m bored of it!”
“I lost my parents too! Who was there for me? Huh? Who was there to cradle me when I woke up crying in the middle of the night?”
My heart lurches. “Beth…I’m sorry…”
“It hasn't been easy on me. Okay, so I fucked up. So I’m not this perfect daughter that mom and dad thought I was. But I tried, Em, I really tried.” She drops to the sofa and sobs into her hands.
I feel awful as I stand silent over her.
She’s right. Although I’ve had to drop out of college to help her deal with this mess, I’ve never really appreciated how hard it’s been on her. Not just the money aspect of our situation, but how she’s had to bury her own grief as she helped me get through my own.
I sit down next to her and pull her in for a hug. “I’ve been so selfish, Beth. Please forgive me.” I hug her tighter, letting her tears soak my shirt.
“Guess we’re both a little fucked up, right?”
She sniggers. “Haven't we always been?”
“Yeah, but we’re stronger than most.” I push back and study her. “It’s time that I sort out this mess once and for all.”
She laughs. “Oh yeah? Gonna win the lottery?”
“No, but I’ll find a way. I like you better as a sister than a mom.” We both study each other and then push in for another hug.
I meant what I said. I have to sort this out. It’s the least I owe Beth, for swallowing back her own grief so she could be a sponge to mine.
Scott Smith is bad news, and it pains me to think about giving him what he wants, but he has a price. Everyone does…
Chapter 5
Brandon
With Emma not turning up for work, and the day coming to a surprisingly busy end, I call her one last time. Like it’s done all day, it goes straight through to voicemail.
“Call me as soon as you get this, please…” I pause. “I hope I didn't offend you last night.”
I stuff my phone into my pocket, switch off the lights, and pull the garage shutters down.
Taking my second motorcycle—a battered old Honda that I’m less than enamored with—I turn the ignition and make my way home. As I pull off the forecourt, indicating right, I suddenly make a sharp left toward Emma’s neighborhood. I have her address, like I would any employee in case of an emergency.
Any other boss would have fired someone who just didn't show up for work, but I knew that she was in trouble. Besides, she excelled herself yesterday, and at the very least, even if there’s no hope of anything happening between us, she has a talent worth fighting for.
“Hold the door,” I call out to a guy walking out of the communal exit of Emma’s apartment block. He looks a little startled as my large six-foot four frame bounds over toward him, but he holds it open for me.
“Thanks,” I say, brushing past him as I enter the foyer. I tried to ring Emma’s apartment number but was met with static.
When I reach her floor, which is at the top of the building, I quickly find her door
and knock. At first there’s no answer, but I know someone’s in from the dull sound of a TV coming from within. I knock again and stand back, bracing myself.
When the door opens I straighten up. Instead of Emma I’m greeted by another girl who I presume is her sister.
“Sorry to bother you, but is your sister around?”
She doesn't reply at first, looking shocked to see me, but when I hear Emma’s voice call out to ask who’s at the door, I crane my head past her. “Emma, it’s Brandon.”
She walks out of a room in the hallway, looking surprised to see me. I’m also surprised. She looks drop-dead gorgeous. Wearing a short red skirt, figure-hugging blouse, and having her beautiful blonde hair down in silky smooth waves, she looks good enough to eat.
My brows meet. “Are you going out?”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry about today, I wasn't feeling well.”
Her sister stands back, looking down at her feet.
“Really?” I say, trying to hold in my frustration. “Nice to see that you’ve gotten better all of a sudden.”
She pushes past her sister and walks out to the hall where I’m standing. “I’ll make up for it tomorrow. I’m sorry again.”
I stand rooted on the spot, speechless at the way she just glides past me for the elevators. Her sister tries to iron things out with me. “She has an errand to run in town.”
I squint at her. “Looking like that?”
She doesn't respond.
“Are you guys in trouble?” I ask her.
Her face flushes red and she still doesn't respond. I push close to her. “Please tell me. I can help.”
Suddenly, a single tear rolls down her heated cheek. I invite myself in. I’m not leaving until Emma’s sister tells me exactly what’s going on— until I know how I can fix this. Dressed so hot, and looking like she’s going on a date she doesn't want to go on, I think I already know what the deal is. That creepy client from yesterday got a little too close to Emma for comfort.
Emma
“You’ve barely touched your steak,” Scott says, leaning forward on the table.
“I’m not hungry.”
“What, a big healthy girl like you?” He tries to touch my hand, which rests on the lip of the table, but I swiftly pull back before his boney fingers land on my skin. I can feel everyone’s eyes pin on me as we sit at a table in the middle of a cheap restaurant downtown.