Page 13 of Seasons of Love
"I'm sorry, bikes are my thing. You probably came here asking for help with your car, or something, and here I am with a bike boner the size of Texas."
He stared down at my jeans and smiled. The biting of his lips returned and, despite my inappropriate comment, I wished I could tell what he was thinking.
"Actually, I'm here for your bike knowledge."
"Okay, how can I help?"
He opened his mouth but didn't say anything, at first. In my experience, people always said exactly what they wanted when they wanted, even if they needed a little longer for the words to come out.
"I'm…um…I'm an author, and I…um, I'm doing research and need help. Wren said you could help."
His gaze veered away from me when he said he was an author, as if he were embarrassed about it. That didn't sit well with me.
"I know who you are."
"You do?"
"You seem surprised."
He put his hands in his pockets again, a gesture I was coming to understand was his way of dealing with something he wasn't comfortable with.
"No, I'm not." And then he laughed. "Sorry, actually, I am, but I know I shouldn't be."
"Oh?"
"You don't look like the kind of guy who'd read my books, although that's a terrible and judgy thought to have. Then again we met in the romance section at a book fair, so I shouldn't be surprised at all."
I smiled. "It's always a good day when you can surprise someone in a positive way." He returned my smile with his own, and his eyes were shiny with life again, more like the guy I'd met at the weekend. "So how can I help you with your research?"
6
AIDEN
"Are you really offering to help?" I asked.
He laughed. "You haven't yet told me what you need help with."
I pointed at the old Harley in front of us. The way he'd described all the important features of the bike told me he was absolutely the perfect person to help me with my research.
He wasn't just a subject matter expert, he was passionate about it in a way that was so captivating that I'd had to run the list of all my character names in my head to stop myself from getting a boner. And I couldn't exactly explain mine as a bike-related one, it was more a Slade-related one.
"I can tell you anything you want to know about motorcycles in general or Harleys. I've been obsessed with them since I was a kid."
"What's this bike’s story?"
Slade went around the Harley, running his hand over the seat and the rusty metal arch at the back. Was that so the person riding behind had something to hold on to? I had so much to learn if I was going to make the biker in my story believable.
"This bike…" He paused, his eyes fixed on the bike and his brows furrowed. "This bike belonged to someone who meant a lot to me a long time ago."
"Does it work?"
"It's hanging by a thread. It was my passion project. I wanted to restore it to original condition, but every time I went to work on it, it didn't feel like the right time."
"And is it the right time now?"
He looked at me. His blue eyes were framed by a few wrinkles, but it only added to the broody, weathered demeanor he had going on.
"I don't know. A bike is meant to be ridden. Keeping it under a cover isn’t good," he said.
