BEAR WIPED THE sweat from his brow, listening to the familiar sounds of the auto shop. After an entire week of frustrating days and restless nights spent debating showing up on Crystal’s doorstep and insisting they talk their shit out, he’d finally had it. He’d woken up at the crack of dawn on Friday and decided this was it. He was done giving her space. Seven days was enough time for her to admit what she wanted. He didn’t know what happened the other night, but there was no way the kiss they’d shared was the kiss of a woman who didn’t want him. She wanted him, and it was time for her to own up to it.
Decision made, and unable to go back to sleep, he’d gone down to his garage at five thirty, hoping to distract himself for a few hours. He’d spent the morning working on the motorcycle he was building. Motorcycles were his first love. According to his parents, from the time he learned to walk and talk he’d been drawn to them. While his father had been happy to share the biker culture with his children, it was his father’s brother, Axel, who had taken Bear under his wing and taught him everything he knew about mechanics, and more specifically, about motorcycles. From a young age, Bear had worked under his uncle’s tutelage in the auto shop. By the time he was sixteen there wasn’t anything he couldn’t repair or build. At eighteen he was designing motorcycles.
He’d attended a technical high school, where he studied collision repair and automotive technology, and he’d done well enough to receive a scholarship to go to college for engineering and industrial design. But that had fallen by the wayside when his father had suffered his stroke. He’d thought his dreams would never come to fruition, but a few years later, Bear met Jace Stone at a rally. Jace was the co-owner of Silver-Stone Cycles, which were among the most sought-after custom motorcycles. At the time they’d just opened a new location in Pennsylvania, but Jace had been impressed with Bear’s designs and said he’d be in touch when they were ready to expand again. It had given Bear a shred of hope that even without the degree, he might still have a chance at turning his passion into reality. But when they’d come back to him last month to discuss their expansion into Peaceful Harbor, they’d wanted him to commit to a full-time position. As much as he wanted to take his designing to the next level, he hadn’t been ready to walk away from the family business completely. Two weeks ago they’d offered him a part-time position. It was exactly what he’d hoped for. The offer was on the table. They were just waiting for him to commit to a schedule before hammering out the final details.
He was waiting, too. And every day he vacillated on his decision. Working for them meant cutting back on his hours at the shop and the bar. He’d had his fill of the bar, but the shop was a whole different ball game.
He cleared his throat to wrench the frustrating thoughts from his head and did a quick visual inventory of the engine parts spread out on the floor and workbenches. After working in his garage at home for an hour and a half, he’d gone into Whiskey Automotive and had spent the day rebuilding an engine. It should have been the perfect remedy for a hard fucking night, but even after hours of work, as he’d removed the crankshaft, core plugs, brackets, pins, and went through the steps of checking valve heads, stems, and replacing worn keepers, his mind continually circled back to Crystal. He’d known her long enough to understand that no matter how frustrating it was for him, she needed space to work out her own shit. But it killed him that he had no idea what that shit was.
Harley brushed against his leg and meowed. He lifted her up and kissed her head, gazing into her innocent eyes. “Think you can have a talk with Crystal for me? Tell her what she’s missing out on.” Harley meowed again, and he tucked her against his chest as he pulled out his phone for the hundredth time since he’d walked away last week. He uttered a curse at the sight of the blank screen.
Tru sidled up to him. “Still no word?”
Truman had come a long way from the lost sixteen-year-old kid trying to keep his head above water Bear had met a lifetime ago. Like the good friend he was, Tru hadn’t asked any questions when he’d picked Bear up and given him a ride home from Crystal’s apartment complex. Other than a few supportive looks, Tru had kept his thoughts on Bear and Crystal’s quasi relationship to himself. But he didn’t have to say a word. Tru wore his emotions on his sleeves, as clear and present as the blue ink snaking up his arms. Bear knew Tru was just as baffled by this turn of events as he was. He and Crystal might not have so much as kissed before last week, but the magnetic pull between them could be felt around the world.
“Nope.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and tipped his eyes up to the clouds rolling in. Frigging perfect. He’d hoped to go on a long bike ride after work to clear his head. He headed toward the back of the shop to wash his hands. It was after seven, and Gemma had picked up the kids an hour ago. He was dying to ask Tru if Gemma had said anything about Crystal. Girls talked, didn’t they? Or did Crystal shut everyone out the way she’d shut him out?
He sure as hell hoped not, because that would suck for her. He had his family and Tru. He had the whole club if he needed them. One phone call and he’d have more support than he could ever want, and he took comfort in knowing that the same way he knew the other members did. But who did Crystal have? She’d mentioned a rough visit with her mother, and while he knew she and Jed were in contact, he didn’t get the impression they were particularly close. She had Dixie and Gemma, but for obvious reasons she didn’t seem to be reaching out to Dixie. The truth was, she had Bullet, Bones, and Tru, too, but he knew she’d never turn to them. Especially after how they’d left things last week.
He handed Harley to Tru and washed his hands.
“You’re sure you didn’t do something or say something to cause her to get riled up?” Tru handed him a paper towel. “I love Gemma to the ends of the earth, but, dude, women are wired totally different than we are. The wrong voice inflection can change the meaning of a sentence, and if you’re like me, you could be clueless.”
“No shit.” He took Harley from him and scratched the kitty’s head. “I grew up with Dixie, remember? I’ve been over it a million times.” Was it possible that despite the hottest kiss he’d ever experienced, she wasn’t into him the way he was into her? He couldn’t believe it. He’d seen the heat in her eyes for months. “Tru, do you think she’s done with whatever this is between us?”
“From the little bits and pieces Gemma has said, it seems like Crystal’s been a mess all week.”
He took far more pleasure in that than he should. “That’s on her.” As the words left his lips, he knew he didn’t mean them. He wanted to know what was going on inside that beautiful head of hers.