Page 11 of Just Trouble

I never thought that woman might be Daph Bradshaw.

The worst thing is that I suspect she’s going to turn me down. She’s going to toss me out on my ass before I can regroup and make a better argument.

And still, I have nothing.

“You have to know that this plan might not come to fruition,” Daph says finally. “Sylvia might not want to come back to Empire, even if you are trying to create a job for her to make it financially feasible. This chef?—”

“Meredith MacRae.”

“—might not want a place badly enough to take on Leon and Dotty’s diner, such as it is.” She fixes me with a glare that would have made Medusa proud. “If you have a solution that you’re determined to inflict upon the participants, it’s not that different from the way your dad plays.”

Ouch. It’s an observation worthy of Taylor.

And it’s true.

“Can’t I facilitate a possibility and let people choose?”

She smiles and it’s like the sun rising over the tundra. “Of course,” she says and there’s a warmth in her tone that hasn’t been there so far. “I just think you should be prepared for the possibility of being turned down.”

“I am.” I’m in Empire, after all.

“I’ll have to do some due diligence,” Daph says then, meeting my gaze steadily. Alas, the ice queen is back. “I want to be sure these signatures are genuine before I take on a job like this. If and when I do, we’ll talk more specifically about compensation.” She names her hourly billing rate, which doesn’t surprise me at all—if anything, it’s low—and gives me a round estimate to cover her efforts, if there are no surprises along the way.

The wave of relief nearly flattens me. The signatures are real, so I’m almost sure it’s a go. “I suppose we should shake on it,” I say and she glances up.

There’s that little smile again, the one that is half-wicked, the one that always intrigued me. Whatisshe thinking? Her gaze lingers on my mouth for the barest moment as she smiles and she’s the hottest thing I’ve seen in half of forever. Before I can think of what to say, the smile is gone and Daph’s composed again—as if I imagined that look.

Maybe I did.

She offers her hand. “Thank you for stopping in, Mr. Jones,” she says, a big fat hint that it’s time for me to make myself scarce.

I do. I don’t want to mess this up now, even though it’s only a partial victory. I shake her hand, liking the cool strength of her fingers, pick up my helmet and my portfolio and leave. I’m well aware of how the receptionist watches me go, and I wonder how many people she’s already told about my arrival in town.

I put my sunglasses on, then stand beside my bike looking around.

It’s a bright sunny morning in Empire and I have absolutely nothing to do, nowhere to go and no place to stay. My mission, such as it was, has been accomplished as much as it can be. I could visit my mom in Havelock, but I’m not ready for that just yet.

The bike starts right away, a sign of its recent visit to the shop, and I hope that Daph is watching me through the glass. I can’t see into her office, as much as I’d like to have one last look. I walk the bike back to the road, noting that I don’t have to yield to a single vehicle, then open the throttle as I ride out of town one more time.

I guess all the satisfaction comes with the first time you do something. Today, leaving Empire feels a bit flat.

As soon as I see the sign for The Maple Leaf Motel, though, I know where I’m going. Once again, the universe is steering me right, because that can’t be anyone other than Bruno DeLuca crouched down beside a Harley in the parking lot of the motel his folks owned when we were kids.

It can’t be the same bike, can it?

Speculation has me slowing for the turn. Contrary to local lore, I did not ride out of Empire on my motorcycle and never look back. I sold my Harley to Bruno so I could buy a plane ticket to the States. He gave me my last ride on it when he took me to Havelock to get the bus to Toronto.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t got it running yet?” I ask as I pull to a stop alongside him. There are engine parts lined up on a sheet of newspaper spread on the pavement, just the way he’s always worked, and his hands are black with grease.

“Luke!” he shouts loud enough for the whole town to hear. I get off the bike, enduring a hug while he keeps his hands away from my clothes. And then, it’s all about the bike as we turn to survey it together. Itisthe same bike. I recognize a couple of scratches and the dent in one fender that was entirely my fault. “I’ve never been able to keep it running the way you did. Maybe you have the touch.”

“Maybe I didn’t teach you all its secrets.” It’s been a while since I’ve gotten my hands dirty and I’m looking forward to it.

“What brings you back?” he demands, then continues before I can reply. “Can you stay for a beer?”

“I’ll stay longer than that if you’ve got an available room.”

“Of course! Special offer for a friend.”

---