“What are you still doing here?”
I glance over my shoulder at Jared, my boss at the bike shop, and smirk. We closed hours ago, but the owner of the Harley Fatboy I’m working on wants his bike back by the end of the week, so I stayed behind to get caught up.
“Wouldn’t have to be here so late if you’d hire more people,” I quip.
Jared chuckles. We’ve had this argument numerous times, and Journey, my VP, and I are determined to convince him that it’s not only a good idea but necessary as fuck.
“Quality over quantity,” he says, using the same old argument.
Grabbing the rag from the floor next to me, I wipe the grease from my hands as I stand to face him. “We’re already sacrificing quality with the way we’re taking on projects. It’s time to bite the bullet, boss man.”
Jared walks around the motorcycle, admiring my work, and finally stops to stand next to me. “Fine. I’ll start putting feelers out. Unless you’ve got someone in mind?”
I arch a brow. “Seriously? You’re actually going to hire someone?”
He shrugs. “I know you and Journey think I don’t listen, but I do. And you’re right… We need more mechanics. Shit, we need someone else who can do custom projects, as well.” Pausing, he runs his hand over his long gray beard. “Besides, the wife’s getting on me about retiring soon. Guess now is as good a time as any to beef up the place.”
My mind buzzes at this new piece of information. Jared opened the shop almost thirty years ago, and he’s busted his ass to make it the legend it is among bikers. I thought for sure he’d work until he had both feet in the grave.
I whistle. “You gonna sell or…”
He grins. “Why? You looking to buy?”
Fuck, yes.
“I mean, I think the club would be interested for sure,” I say nonchalantly.
Soulless Kings MC owns Sinful Wheels up in Oregon, and I know Fender and Crow have talked about opening a location here in Marble Falls, but they also know that there’s no way a new shop could compete with what Jared’s built.
My boss is quiet for a minute before saying, “Get me a sit-down with Crow, and we can go from there.”
I nod. “I can do that.”
“Are you serious?”
I lift my beer and grin at Journey. As soon as I arrived at the clubhouse, I filled him in on my conversation with Jared, and his eyes lit up.
“As serious as having to lay your bike down,” I say.
“Yo, Crow!” he hollers, and our president turns in his chair from across the room. “C’mere, brother.”
Crow wraps his arms around his old lady, Addison, and shakes his head. “Whatever it is, it can wait.” He turns away from us, effectively shutting down any more conversation.
Journey rolls his eyes. “Pussy-whipped bastard,” he mutters.
I slap Journey on the back. “You’re one to talk,” I remind him. “If Wren were here, you’d be all over her, and the shop would be the last thing on your mind.”
He shrugs. “True.”
“When’s she due home?” I ask, knowing he hates being away from his old lady.
He pulls his cell from his cut and looks at the time. “Any minute, actually,” he says as he rises from his stool.
I watch him walk away, jealousy slithering through me like a snake. Shoving the unwelcome feeling from my mind, I spin on my stool and rest my forearms on the bar. Lately, it seems like all my brothers are getting hitched, and I never thought I’d want something like that.
My mind swirls with memories, reminders of why I despise relationships. My parents had a great relationship, but in the end, their love couldn’t save them. And my sister? Fuck, if ever I needed a reason to refuse to get tied down, it’s her marriage.
But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that my brothers have found something that, at least on the surface, is enviable.
