“Manufactured from 1949 to 1958. The ‘Trophy’ part of the name came from the three bikes built for the International Six Day Trial in ’48, which won the manufacturers’ team trophy.”
Dylan stared at him as if he’d sprouted three heads, and Alec shrugged. “Research is a family passion.” In fact, his parents were more obsessive than their son.
Though Dylan didn’t grin, his green eyes flickered with humor. “A family passion, huh?” He nodded at Alec’s motorcycle as he went on. “How she running today?”
“A little rough, but not so bad.”
“Tell you what,” Dylan said, pulling his hands out of the Triumph. “Why don’t we give her a tune-up? Won’t take but a couple of hours.”
Caught off guard by the offer, Alec spent the next three seconds studying Dylan.
Since the first motorcycle lesson, they’d seen each other every day, Alec stopping by the shop after work or Dylan making the trek to Alec’s house. Once he’d even stayed for dinner. When Alec had pulled the eggplant Parmesan out of his oven after the lesson, the growl from Dylan’s stomach had made both of them laugh. Food definitely tasted better with company, and Alec hated eating alone.
“I appreciate the offer, but what about the Triumph?” Alec asked.
“It’ll keep until tomorrow. I’ll tell the owner of the bike I’m running a day behind schedule.”
“Won’t your boss get mad?”
“Dude, I’m the owner,” Dylan said. “I can do whatever I want.”
The news sent Alec’s hairline reaching higher. When Noah had sent him to see Dylan, Alec hadn’t given the ownership of the business any thought. “I assumed you were an employee.”
“Hell, no,” Dylan said. “You think I’d work this hard for someone else? I own this bucket of grease, lock, stock, and barrel of used motor oil.”
“Then why isn’t it called Booth’s Classic Motors?”
Dylan’s face went blank, and he turned back to the motorcycle, plunging his fingers back inside. Dylan might be a hard man to read, but right now the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. Several seconds passed by until Alec began to wonder if Dylan would answer the question.
“My best friend’s last name was Adams. We used to talk about opening our own business restoring vintage motorcycles.” Gaze fixed on the Triumph, Dylan gave a tiny shrug. “So I guess it’s a way of making sure Rick got what he’d always wanted.”
Alec rested his palm on the handle of the Harley, unsettled by the news.
“Rick,” Alec said slowly, the pieces of the puzzle slowly slotting together. “As in Noah’s old boyfriend?”
“Yep.”
Alec didn’t know much except that Noah had dated a man who had died of HIV, hence Noah’s commitment to the community. But the news that Dylan’s friendship with Noah had been forged through that relationship came as a complete surprise.
In retrospect the information explained a lot about the connection between Dylan and Noah, complete opposites in many respects. From the first moment Alec had watched the two interact, he’d been curious. Alec could tell the bond went deep. He just hadn’t known why.
Crouched by the bike, Dylan continued with his task, and Alec searched for something appropriate to say.
“That’s a nice way to keep his memory alive,” Alec said.
“Mmm hmm,” Dylan said, keeping his eyes on his task. “Every year on Rick’s birthday we used to take a road trip. The poker run is a way of remembering him and raising money for HIV research at the same time.”
So not only had Dylan named his business after his dead friend, Dylan had started a fundraiser in honor of him as well. Still waters did indeed run deep. Dangerously deep.
“Bring the Harley over here and we’ll start with an oil change,” Dylan said.
The subtext came across loud and clear: conversation over, time to move on.
Alec dismounted, pushed the motorcycle closer, and parked next to the Triumph.
The next two hours came as a complete surprise and were much more entertaining than Alec would have predicted. Every time Dylan sent Alec to fetch something, Alec tried to help, but his ignorance about basic tools was impossible to hide. When Dylan had to describe what a Phillips screwdriver was, the mechanic could barely contain his laughter.
After that, Dylan’s good-natured teasing became a part of the process. So Alec shamelessly used his photographic memory to spout random motorcycle facts he’d picked up during his research—the first time since college that Alec’s ability to recall useless information had come in handy.