“I can put you down for a service check in my next available slot,” Dylan said. “If you absolutely have to have the work done sooner, I can recommend a few people I trust.”
“Will adjusting the carburetor help me get it started?”
“Maybe.” Dylan lifted the lid to a massive toolbox. “But it also takes practice.”
Practice.
Alec pursed his lips in thought and gazed at the far wall, where a muscle car sat on a lift, exposing the mysterious underbelly of the vehicle. Although well versed in the barriers of providing health care to the medically underserved, Alec wasn’t mechanically inclined. Could barely operate a hammer and nail. Putting gas in his vehicle was as complicated as Alec could handle. Choosing to purchase the vintage Harley, aside from the cool-factor appeal, had been about pushing his boundaries and challenging himself to move beyond his comfort zone.
Despite this morning’s epic fail, the decision felt right. Even after all the trouble with the bike, Alec still couldn’t forget those first trouble-free minutes on the ride here. He’d felt almost…happy again. Nonetheless, for his new pastime to be successful, he needed someone’s help in the beginning.
Decision made, Alec turned back to Dylan. “Do you ever give lessons?”
Dylan turned his head to look at Alec over his shoulder. “Lessons?”
“You know,” Alec said, suddenly feeling awkward. The confused look on Dylan’s face didn’t help. “Pointers to people who don’t know all the quirks to driving a 1964 Harley.”
No need to mention his ignorance about motorcycles in general.
“’Fraid not.” Dylan selected a screwdriver from the massive metal chest. “I’d make an exception in your case, seeing how you’re a friend of Noah’s and all, but my plate really is full at the moment.” He shut the lid to the toolbox. “But I can give you the names of a couple of people who might be able to help you out.”
A sense of satisfaction surged, and Alec grinned. “Perfect.”
The green eyes held a hint of a smile in return. Given the horrendous start to Alec’s morning, things were finally looking up. With any luck, facing Tyler again wouldn’t be the disaster Alec had been envisioning for weeks.
~~~***~~~
The next day Alec tucked a towel around his waist, hair dripping as he padded out of the bathroom into his bedroom. He’d definitely taken steps toward making things better. The adjustment to the Harley yesterday had made a huge difference. Dylan had gotten the motorcycle started for Alec without any problem, proving that everything functioned properly. And the ride home had gone smoother, the trip proving Alec right.
He definitely didn’t regret choosing the Harley.
This morning Alec felt better. Refreshed. More hopeful than he’d felt in a while. He’d put together a quiche and placed it in the oven, the first real cooking he’d done in ages. Even his daily jerk-off session in the shower had been satisfying.
Right up until he came, the moment ruined when an image of Tyler popped into Alec’s head.
Alec’s lips twisted. He’d started off as usual, visualizing David Beckham on his knees and getting nice and worked up imagining a strong body and hazel eyes so hot they could melt cold butter from twenty-five feet away. Alec liked a little stubble, the rough feel under his hand as he cupped a jaw while lips and tongue played him like an instrument. He and David had been so close to mutual satisfaction. So close. And then, like an annoying Internet ad that refused to close, up popped Tyler’s face, staring at him like he had so many times before.
What a way to ruin a good orgasm.
But come Monday there’d be no more avoiding Tyler physically either. Between his ex’s vacation and the medical conference Alec had attended, plus a whole lot of manipulation of the clinic schedule on Alec’s part, he’d managed to avoid seeing Tyler at work since the split.
But they ran the Front Street Clinic together, for God’s sake.
At this point, Alec figured he had two choices. He could man up, stop delaying the inevitable, and be the one to define the moment when they first met up. Or he could continue to avoid Tyler until the last possible minute, in which case the moment would define Alec.
And most likely not in a flattering way.
He towel dried his hair and shoved away the mental image of him blabbering like a fool in front of Tyler or standing there mute—either scenario an unfortunate possibility. Alec tossed the towel into the hamper with a determined thump. After almost two months of inertia, the time had come to seize the initiative. And that meant taking steps to ease them into their first day back in clinic together.
He’d call Tyler and tell him to stop by before Monday. No sense in ruining the entire weekend; tomorrow would be perfect. Lazy Sundays worked great for a mature exchange of words in which Alec’s ex-boyfriend retrieved the last of his stuff from the garage.