Her Road Home

Sam could see puzzle pieces fall into place and the woman’s carmine lips opened. “You’re the motorcycle chick. The one who got hit last night!”

Sam had heard of small-town jungle drums, but had never been the source of their pounding before. “Yep, that’s me. Motorcycle chick.”

“I mean that with respect. I’d love to ride myself, but I’m a hazard on the road as it is.” She frowned down at Sam. “Are you sure you’re all right? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?”

“Been there. Done with that.” Sam stuck her knife in a mason jar of what looked like homemade strawberry preserves and slathered it on her toast. “I’ll be fine.”

The woman looked unconvinced, but asked, “Where are you coming from, honey?”

“Ohio, originally.”

The blonde’s brown penciled-on eyebrows scrunched. “You mean you rode a motorcycle out here from Ohio? All by yourself? Lord, weren’t you scared? How long have you been traveling?”

Sam began to recognize that if you wanted to talk with Jesse, rather than listen, it would require using large amounts of duct tape. “I left Colorado two months ago, but it’s been six years since I left where I grew up in Ohio. People have been great, for the most part, and I’ve seen more beautiful country than I knew existed.”

“Well, I’m impressed. I’d never have the guts to do something like that.”

Sam’s mind skipped to the day ahead. Once she’d checked on the bike and picked up a rental car, she planned to cruise around and look for a job. “Can you tell me which direction is best to see some of the country?”

Eavesdropping diners tossed out suggestions.

“Zaca Station Road is real pretty.”

“Yeah, but Foxen Canyon is better. The wineries are beautiful.”

“They just repaved Calle Bonita.”

As a heated discussion broke out, Jesse leaned over. “Oh, just head out of town and take any old road. It’ll wind around and give you a pretty good lay of the land.”

As Sam ate, the café got busier. Overall-clad farmers, who clearly owned their booths, spoke of yesterday’s rain. A gaggle of teenagers bolted food while chatting loudly.

Sam ate her last bite of toast, grabbed her helmet and scouted the counter for her bill. Not seeing one, she walked to the cash register to pay for her meal.

Jesse stood behind the register. “That’ll be eight twenty-three.”

“I looked for the bill, but—”

“Oh, we don’t mess with those things here.” Jesse hit a button, and the drawer popped open.

“But how do you know how much to charge?” She handed over a ten.

“I just figure it in my head, silly.”

“Tax and all?” Sam glanced at the dining area. “And you remember what everyone ordered, and what it costs?” There must have been twenty-five people here, and it had been more crowded when she came in. There was more to this blonde than big hair.

The waitress smiled. “That’s easy. It’s not like riding a motorcycle across country. Now, that’s hard.”

Shaking her head, Sam tottered out the door to track down her motorcycle.

* * *

“YOU NEED TWENTY-TWO foot-pounds at eighty degrees, then eighty degrees again.” Nick leaned on the torque wrench, demonstrating. “Now, you—”

Next to him, his mechanic, Tom, made a low, quiet whistle through his teeth. Nick looked across the engine of the BMW M-Class to the windowed wall of his reception area. The blonde biker stood checking out his photo collection, one hand in the back pocket of her jeans, the other in a sling. He couldn’t blame Tom; she was a bombshell. Six feet tall, mostly legs. Lean, but the snug T-shirt didn’t hide her long, capable biceps. Or the nice set of headlights.

He straightened, pulled a rag out of his back pocket and wiped his hands. Her features suggested innocence, but her full lower lip and the woman’s awareness in her green eyes would set a man’s pants on fire. Unforgettable. He sighed. Nick had no time for a come-n-go biker chick, even a stunning one.

It wasn’t like he’d never asked a woman out before. Just not in recent memory. The business came first. Yeah, but the business is secure, and growing. That excuse isn’t going to work forever.

When he’d been in L.A., getting his mechanic’s license, he’d torn through the ranks of local single women. He’d had a high time. But Nick was still recovering from the fall off those dizzying heights. Since he’d come home to stay, things were more complicated.

In high school, good girls didn’t date hand-me-down guys like him. Oh, sure, there was curiosity in their aloof glances, but between his grease-stained fingernails, out of fashion clothes and their daddies’ admonishments, a glance was all he got.

To be fair, he couldn’t blame them. After his life exploded, he’d done his damnedest to live down to those low expectations.

Besides, women tended to shy from men with murder in their family tree.

“Man, it’s tough to be the boss.” Tom jerked on the torque wrench.

“Watch what you’re doing, or you’re gonna strip that head.” Nick stepped around the car and walked to the office.

“How are the ribs?”

Her look shifted as he approached, going from zero to redline the closer he got. Realizing his gaze had wandered, Nick parked his eyes on her face. “You like my bikes?”

She turned back to his collection of glossy supersport photos. “Do you race?”

“No, those are bikes I wrenched on. It’s kind of a hobby of mine.” He crossed to the computer at the counter. “Riding never interested me. I just love trying to pull one more ounce of horsepower out of those sweet, compact engines.” He jiggled the mouse to wake the screen. “I found you a new headlight and some fork seals online, but I wanted your okay to order them. After all, you were a captive customer last night. My rates are comparable with others in the area, but if you want to check around...”

Her studied gaze raked the reception area as she crossed the room and placed her beat-up helmet gently on the glass display counter. “You’d need to understand, I want only original parts used.”

He nodded.

“I’d love for it to be done quickly, but I understand that the parts may be hard to find. I won’t be here long, so I may need to leave it with you.”

He nodded again.

“I’ll be calling you, for weekly updates.”

“Or I can call you.”

Seconds ticked by as she studied his face. “I’ll trust you.”

Something about the tilt of her head told him she hadn’t trusted him, before she walked into the shop.

“I’ll take good care of your baby, you don’t have to worry.”

“I’m glad to know it. Now, do you know where I can rent a car?”