Fuck.
Dylan closed his eyes and fought the memory of a bruising grip on his head, the brick alley wall pressing against his back as he choked, unable to escape. Unable to breathe. Drowning. Drowning…
With herculean effort, Dylan sucked in a lungful of oxygen.
That was years ago. Quit being such a pansy-assed wuss.
Concentrate. Just…concentrate. Overpriced bike. Sale. Alec. Baby drool.
Struggling to control his rapid breathing, Dylan fingered the worn tread on the tire and forced himself to take stock of the Triumph’s condition. Due to the rust, the frame required sanding, and a new paintjob ought to be a priority. The headlight needed replacing, but that was an easy fix—
“You want to take her for a longer ride?” the owner asked.
Jesus, couldn’t the man see Dylan was in the middle of talking himself back from the ledge?
“Looks like she hasn’t been ridden much lately,” Dylan said, willing himself to friggin’ calm down and wiping black grease on his shirt. And then he looked at his arms, realizing they were smeared with oil from when he’d checked the level on the Triumph.
Damn, he was a mess again. This wasn’t the lead up to sexy times Dylan had been hoping for.
“It’s hard to get away with a toddler and a four-month-old in the house,” the owner said.
Dylan’s concentration didn’t break as he stood, his eyes roaming the bike. Overpriced, but still salvageable. “She’s a beauty.”
“Thanks. Her name is Chloe.”
“Uh…” Dylan lifted his gaze to the infant. “Yeah, her too.”
The proud father glanced down at the baby, who was attempting to shove her entire fist into her mouth. The drool now made an impressive trail down her arm.
“The bike comes with the original owner’s manual,” the man said. “Here, I’ll show you.”
He held out his daughter in Dylan’s direction, and Dylan’s oh-hell-no expression obviously didn’t register with the dad. Stunned, Dylan automatically gripped the baby under the arms, Chloe dangling like a puppy in a toddler’s grasp as she stared up at Dylan with wide, blue eyes and a river of drool.
Whoa. Nothing like a baby to kill those sexy thoughts. And what about his plans for Alec? Dylan had already accumulated enough grease and sweat to turn Alec off. Now he’d added saliva to boot.
Alec’s lips twisted in suppressed humor as he stepped forward to, thank God, rescue Dylan by scooping up the infant.
“I’ll hold her.” Alec settled Chloe expertly into the crook of his elbow.
Dylan would have kissed the man if his arms hadn’t been full of a slobbery infant.
The father fumbled to unlatch the saddlebag, yet another item that didn’t function right. Dylan stared at a well-dressed, clean Alec holding the baby with a sizeable line of drool now hanging from her mouth, dangling in the air. Seriously, someone needed to shut the main water line off and fix that horrific leakage problem.
But Alec? He seemed totally unconcerned. In truth, he appeared content, for lack of a better word. And right after Dylan sent a frustrated look at the mood-killer of a tiny human with massive blue eyes, Dylan’s mind registered just how natural Alec looked holding the baby. Clearly, somewhere in the acquisition of all those letters after his name—BS, MD, MPH—Alec had actually spent time handling kids.
The scene was kinda cute. Almost…adorable.
Dylan blinked, the word rolling around in his head. Adorable. Adorable? Shit, next he’d be buying a fucking minivan.
“I also have the maintenance record and two spare keys,” the owner said.
The man finally pulled out the manual and tried to pass it to Dylan. But Dylan couldn’t focus, too caught up in just how far his thoughts had wandered from getting Alec to jump him.
“Impressive,” Alec said to the owner, discreetly shooting Dylan a get-with-the-program look.
Dylan cleared his throat and took the manual. “Yeah. Impressive.” He flipped through the pages of instructions, not seeing a thing. “Cool that you still have the original. Too bad you have to let her go,” he said, returning the handbook to the saddlebag.
“I don’t mind. Besides, I could use the extra money,” the man said.
“Well, she’s a sweet ride.” Or she could be, with a lot of work. “But I’ve got a couple more I want to check out before I make any decisions.”
“No problem,” the man said, taking his daughter back from Alec. “Just give me a call if you decide it’s the one for you.”
“You bet,” Dylan said.
Dylan headed up the driveway toward his motorcycle parked on the street. Alec followed along, his car parked just behind Dylan’s bike. Because of the timing and the location in relation to Alec’s work, they’d had to meet here instead of riding together. Fate was a bitch, and she’d been determined to screw up Dylan’s plan to tempt Alec into seducing him.