In front of Max’s Motorcycle Repairs, Ralph
helped unload Landon’s bike and bid him farewell, thanking him for his service
before driving off.
This is definitely on the outskirts of town, he
thought.
He had told Ralph that he could manage from there
but Landon now looked at the thirty feet between him and the shop entrance and
thought that he could have used the help.
When he finally managed to push the bike through
the dirt parking lot he let out the kick stand and left it beside the front
entrance, opening the door to the small establishment.
For a garage and a small office off to the side
Max’s was probably the cleanest repair place he’d ever stepped into. The floors
were free of dirt and grease. A push broom leaned against the wall, looking
ragged and well used. Dark red curtains hung in each window, pushed to the
sides to let the light shine in. The air conditioner was set on low but it left
the room feeling cool and fresh. A potted cactus was on the counter, sprouting
a single pink flower that sat delicately on top of the dome shaped plant.
Hung on the walls were pictures of bikes of every
variety. Sports bikes, cruisers, choppers, Harley Davidson’s, Hondas, BMW, and
more. Each was hung in a diamond plate picture frame that resembled a stretched
out license plate cover that he suspected had been hand-made. Bandanas were
strung above the counter on a piece of twine like flags, falling in a neatly
dipped arch. Wheel rims were braced on the back wall, displayed in a ring that
encircled the door that lead into the garage.
“What can I do for you?” the man behind the
counter asked, his diamond plate name tag read VINCE. “You look like you’ve had
a rough day,” he added.
“My tire blew out, sir,” Landon replied. “It took
a good hit.”
“As it would seem, so did you,” Vince replied.
“Take a seat. Is your bike outside?”
“Yes, it’s right there,” Landon said, pointing
through the window at his bike. He headed to the door to retrieve it.
“No, no, you sit down, we’ll bring it around into
the garage for you and Max will have a look at it. We’ll get an idea of what
kind of damage and repairs you’re lookin’ at.” He called into the back, giving
instructions to pick up the bike. Turning around he gestured towards a small
table off to the side. “Help yourself to some coffee.”
Landon’s eyes traveled to the table and he made
his way over, feeling his knees and hips shudder as he did so. Once at the
table he took a paper cup and the pot of regular coffee, pouring himself a full
cup.
Looking up from the table after placing the pot
back down he admired the picture hung in front of him. It was a poster of a
woman on an orange sports bike. She had long black hair down to the small of
her back. Her skin was tanned, and she had dark eyes. From the looks of her,
the high cheek bones, the deep olive tone to her skin, he would be surprised if
she wasn’t full blood Native American.
She wore short cut offs, no shoes, and a white
t-shirt. It was the only picture of a woman on a bike in the entire shop and he
could gather as to why that was. All others would likely pale in comparison.
She didn’t wear a smile, she simply looked at the
camera with purpose in her eyes. The neckline of her shirt was to her
collarbone, leaving the rest to the imagination, though he could tell that she
filled it out well. Her legs were long and lean with muscle as he followed them
back up to her face again.
Landon heard the man come back into the small
office and cleared his throat, realizing that he’d probably been staring at the
poster a little too long. He took a sip of his coffee, noting that it was close
to the best he’d had in a long time, and made his way over to the small seating
area.
Rubbing his neck, registering the tinge of
whiplash that now settled high on his shoulder blades Landon could only imagine
what kind of pain he would be feeling in the morning.
Vince worked behind the counter organizing
paperwork and taking calls. Another man came into the office for a short while,
likely to be Max, but when Landon had started to get up to speak with him about
his bike he’d gone back into the garage.
A few minutes later, head hung over his lap he
heard someone breach the doorway again. He pushed himself up from the chair,
unable to sit any longer and looked up to the counter. Frozen in his tracks,
coffee awkwardly propped up in his hand Landon looked on with shock as the
woman from the poster tucked a long strand of loose hair behind her ear. The
rest of her hair sat in a messy bun at the back of her head. Grease was smeared
down the length of her neck, trailing dangerously low to the crest of her
cleavage. She wore baggy denim overalls and a tight light grey t-shirt
underneath, also covered in grease.
She smiled warmly and gestured for Landon to join
her at the counter. Like an adolescent boy he felt his body react instantly to
the woman in front of him. He felt nerves racing through his body, causing him
to hesitate before finally lowering his coffee in his hand and approaching the
desk, trying to collect himself.
“What did Max say?” he managed. “Is it
repairable?” he was pleased that his voice had come out steady.
She let out a small giggle, picking up on
something humorous about what he’d said, nearly knocking Landon off balance.
“I’m Max,” she said, pointing to the name tag
Landon now wished he’d noticed earlier.
“I-I,” he stuttered. He blinked hard, trying to
rein himself back in. “Of course you are, I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Max was used to the misunderstanding. Vince found
it too entertaining not to mention that Max was a woman when checking in customers. Now in fact, he stood at the far
end of the counter, enjoying the flash of embarrassment on the poor man’s face.
By the looks of him, he’d already been through enough for one day.
“Vince, why don’t you go sweep up the shop?” she
suggested.
After a few moments of delay, clearly enjoying
the show, Vince headed into the back. “Don’t worry about it,” Max said, resting
heavily against the counter. “I get it all the time. I hope you’re okay with me
working on your bike. If not, I understand. That happens a lot too.”
Landon stepped forward, shaking his head slowly.
“Oh no, I have no problem with it at all, ma’am.” He placed his cup on the
counter casually. “What’s it looking like it’ll cost me?”
Max was surprised by the question. Usually men
were hesitant to take her word on what repairs needed to be done, asking for
one of the men in back to step forward and verify all that she’d just said.
Which they always did.
“Well,” Max began. “There’s a lot of body work,
as I’m sure you already know. I’ve written up a price including the cosmetic
work and excluding it just so that you know what your options are.” She pulled
up two pieces of paper and slid them across the counter for him to see. “Here’s
the one with the cosmetic work,” she said, pointing to the one on Landon’s
left. “And here’s the one without. You can look them over and—”
“I’ll take the one with the body work, ma’am,”
Landon answered, curious as to why he’d said it. In reality he didn’t care
about the exterior of the bike as long as it worked properly. Because it might
mean longer time to repair, he thought unguardedly.
“Why don’t you look everything over just to be
sure that you know what’s being done and in case you have any questions,” Max
offered.
Based on the neatly typed up sheets and the time
put into making one with bodywork and one without, Landon felt pretty certain
that he could trust Max’s judgment. She had clearly been faced with a lot of
scrutiny, having to prove herself ten times over what a man had to. And she must
have had the skills to back her claim; otherwise she wouldn’t still have a
business.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, ma’am,” Landon
said with a flirtatious smile “I trust your judgment.” He pushed the sheets
back over the counter with confidence.
Max tilted her head curiously. He didn’t just
sound sure of her abilities to do the job, he looked it. Not to mention the way
that his eyebrow arched just so, his eyes never breaking from hers. His focus
never strayed, his attention unbroken. He was, Max assessed, definitely a
lady’s man. Even with the injuries he’d sustained he seemed to manage a certain
amount of swagger with little to no effort.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked, crossing
her arms over her chest.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, preparing himself for
the yes-I-was-in-Army speech.
“Can you stop calling me ma’am?”
He laughed and the sound was so genuine that Max
found herself caught off guard. His right arm was coated in a thick layer of
dried blood, his leather jacket and helmet that rested on the seat where he’d
been sitting both looked like they’d been dragged across the road for a few
feet. She’d also noticed a limp as he’d made his way over to the counter. All
of that aside he was still able to laugh in such a way that he didn’t seem to
be experiencing any pain at all.
“You don’t look so hot,” she said.
“I don’t feel it,” he admitted, rubbing his neck
muscles.
His warm brown eyes met hers again and she found
herself at a disadvantage. Something about the look in his eyes made her
certain that this man had seduced more than his fair share of women. She
wondered to herself what it must be like to fall into such eyes.
Max looked away, clearing her throat. “Take a
seat, Mr…”
“Bradley,” he replied. “Landon Bradley.”
“Okay, Mr. Bradley, I’ll be right back, I just
need to check in on some work being done to one of the bikes in the back and
I’ll get you all squared away.”
When Max left the office Landon breathed out, not
realizing that he’d held his breath as he watched her leave. Women were
powerful creatures, he thought. On many occasions he’d found himself surprised
by them, but never before like this. Even Paige was no match for Max, it had
only taken a few minutes to conclude that much. He could detect a distinct
fearlessness about her just as he had with Paige. But there was something
different about Max, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.
A few minutes later Max walked back through the
door with Vince at her side, here to watch Landon squirm again he presumed, and
he rose from his chair again, running his hand absently over the top of his
hair.
“So
where are you staying tonight?” Max asked, taking in Landon’s dust-blown shirt
and sweat-stained neck. “Looks like you’ve been riding for a while.” He was
obviously not a local, she knew all thirty of them, none of which she recalled
had any relatives his age from out of town.
“I had no plans of staying
anywhere in particular. With the bike out of commission I guess I’ll need to
look into something.” Landon swept his eyes over the surface of Max’s thin
frame. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman that beautiful. In fact,
he couldn’t recall a woman off the top of his head that actually compared. “Do
you know of a place nearby?”
“Define nearby,” she laughed.
“You plan on walking?” With his injuries, she considered, it would be one hell
of a hike into town.
Landon looked through the front
window, considering the road that disappeared beyond the horizon in both
directions.
“Yeah.” He sounded unsure.
“You’ll stay with me,” Max
said, wiping her grease coated hands down the front of her overalls,
disappearing back into the garage.
“Do I have a say?!” Landon
called after her. Having a beautiful woman offer to take him in wasn’t exactly
a bad thing. In fact, considering how things had turned out, it was likely the
best possible end to his day. But one thing always led to another and with the
repair of his bike and his journey ahead laying in the balance he wasn’t so
sure that it was the best idea.
Turning to face Vince who stood
chuckling behind the counter he received a doubtful shake of the head. Max, he
was realizing quickly didn’t come up against protest often, insisting that he
stay elsewhere would probably be met with resistance.
Vince followed Max into the
shop shortly after she’d left, leaving Landon in the lobby still thrown off by
her offer, perplexed himself as to why she’d said it. He found her staring at
the beat up Vulcan.
“With all due respect,” he
began “are you completely out of your mind?! This guy stumbles through our
doors after crashing his bike, clearly out of town, and you offer for him to
stay at your place? It’s insanity.”
Max looked up at Vince. “Our
other option is for him to stay at the hotel across the street from Hogs and
Harley’s. I’m sure they would be more than willing to fix up his bike for him.
Is that what you want? You know how much we need this job.”
“But to let him stay with
you…don’t you think that’s a bit too
generous? What if he gets the wrong idea? I won’t be able to sleep at night
wondering if you’ve got some serial killer rapist livin’ under your roof.”
“That’s a bit dramatic don’t
you think?” Max interjected. “I mean, the guy hardly looks like he could cross
the shop right now, let alone my house to sneak stealthily into my bedroom
before I could protect myself.”
“You underestimate the
determination of a horny pervert.”
“So now he’s a horny pervert?”
“Well, he could be. He’s a guy,
that’s about halfway to being a horny pervert in and of itself. Besides, you
had to have seen the way he was lookin’ at you. He wasn’t even making an effort
to hide it.”
“Plenty of guys have looked at
me, Vince,” Max argued.
“And I wouldn’t want any of
them stayin’ up at your place either, not unless you were datin’ ‘em. Even then
you best be knowin’ that I’d give you the same talkin’ to.”
“I know you would,” Max said
with a sigh. “But honestly, this isn’t just about that. There’s no place close
to stay other than at the place across from Hogs and Harley’s. I can’t risk
losing the business.”
“What if I let him stay at my
place? It would give me some peace of mind,” Vince offered.
“You’ve got a wife and kids. If
you’re worried about me then I doubt having him stay with you would give you
any peace of mind. I can take care of myself. If worse comes to worst I’ve got
the 45 in my nightstand.”
“Well you better keep that
bedroom door of yours locked up, honey bee. And if push comes to shove you
better not hesitate to defend yourself.”
“Do you really doubt my ability
to protect myself, Vince?”
Vince eyed her for a minute
before a smile crept onto his face. “No, I know you can handle yourself.”
“Then let me handle myself will
ya?”
“Call me if anything happens.”
“You know I will.”
