“Fire away.”
“Right.” Ill-advised purchase or not, he needed to get back to the business of his goals. “So the bike tries to stall every time I stop. I have to keep my hand on the throttle to keep it running. Any suggestions on what I might be doing wrong?”
“Sounds like your carburetor needs adjusting. Just take a flat-head screwdriver to the fuel intake valve and—”
After scanning Alec’s face, which most likely reflected his completely clueless state, Dylan dropped his hand from the chain, the massive garage door still halfway open. “Never mind. Won’t take but a few minutes. How about I do that for you now?”
The tension in Alec’s shoulders eased a bit. “That would be really helpful.”
Dylan crossed back and righted the Harley, flipping the kickstand with a flick of his foot. As he pushed the bike inside the metal building, Alec followed behind, the position allowing him to freely study Dylan’s form.
He guesstimated Dylan to be six two or so, two inches taller than Alec. His sandy hair was closely cropped on the sides, and the thick wayward strands on top looked more rebellious than messy. With each tiny adjustment in Dylan’s position, the black T-shirt stretched tight across a broad back and his biceps, which were as well defined as the rest of him. With every shift of his thighs, his quadriceps lengthened and bulged slightly beneath his jeans.
No ogling the straight man, Alec. No ogling any man, period.
Alec pulled his gaze away and concentrated on his surroundings. The garage smelled of a mix of motor oil, exhaust, and dust. Several motorcycles lined the wall to the right.
“I really appreciate this,” Alec said as he trailed behind Dylan.
“No worries.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t have to push the bike uphill for eight blocks. It weighs a ton.”
“About six hundred and fifty pounds.”
“You’re kidding me.” Alec came to a stop, the impulsive nature of his purchase hitting him all over again. “I had no idea it was that heavy.”
Dylan shot Alec a questioning look, as if he couldn’t fathom anyone being so uninformed about their vehicle. Normally Alec didn’t make a move without a serious amount of research, a habit that used to drive Tyler crazy.
Dylan parked the Harley next to a shelf full of neatly arranged tools and turned, hands on his hips. “Spur-of-the-moment purchases are always risky.”
The especially when you don’t know what the hell you’re doing went unsaid.
Alec let out a humorless bark of laughter. “Yes, but I needed a change. Today.” Alec briefly glanced down the street, the knot in his chest expanding. After hearing the news this morning, he finally managed to speak the words out loud. “I just learned my ex has a new boyfriend. And I’m feeling…”
Humiliated that the man I thought I’d spend forever with has already moved on.
Demoralized that I’ve been replaced, fifty-six days after the breakup.
Fifty-six days.
The number felt tattooed on his forehead.
Dylan’s facial expression froze in alarm. “Please don’t say you’re feeling suicidal.”
This time Alec’s bark of laughter was real. “No, not at all. Just wanted to shake up the routine.” He shrugged, struggling to put his personal promise into words. “Reinvent myself, so to speak.” In ways outside the reach of his memories of Tyler.
Dylan’s comment consisted of a brief pause followed by a sharp nod before he crossed to the shelf of tools. “What kind of problems are you having?”
Christ, where to begin?
“Oh, you know. The usual,” Alec said, surprised the man had asked. “Loss of appetite. Insomnia. I’m second-guessing every decision I made during our two-year relationship. We’d even talked about getting married—”
Alec caught sight of Dylan’s almost horrified expression.
“Dude,” Dylan said, “I meant what kind of problems are you having with the bike?”
Heat rushed up Alec’s face, filling every available space.
Nice one, Alec.
He’d completed college in three years and aced his way through medical school. Had received several honors during residency. Had just been named the recipient of the prestigious Bay Area Humanitarian Award for his work with the homeless.
Why couldn’t he deal with a breakup?
Alec shoved his hands into his brand-new racing jacket. “So far just the stalling. But I’ve only driven it the few miles between the former owner’s home and here.”
“Most likely adjusting the carburetor will hold you over until a more thorough tune-up.”
Dylan sorted through the well-organized tools that would make most men salivate. Alec concentrated on the display of Dylan’s muscular back instead of the well-formed ass. Alec’s sex life might be nonexistent of late, but checking the mechanic out wasn’t a part of the make-a-new-life plan.