Page 3 of Loving Hard on the Highway

“She’s a sweet bike,” Marco said as he came around from the other side of the lift with a large wrench in his hand.

“Please tell me you can get her running by morning.”

Marco let out a laugh. “I can get her fixed up for sure, but no way by morning. If I had the parts, maybe. But for a limited-edition customized Ducati… I can order the parts first thing in the morning. With a rush, they’ll maybe be here in the evening, but still might take a day or so.”

“Shit,” I swore under my breath. “I really need to get on the road first thing in the morning, and it’s already 3 am.”

Marco looked at the clock hanging on the metal wall. “You may want to call the car rental at the airport. They’re open 24 hours a day, but there’s a convention in town, so there might not be much to choose from.”

“Thanks,” I said, placing a weary hand on the frame of my precious Reba. “Do whatever it takes to get her fixed. My assistant will have her shipped to me in California when you’re done. Cost is not an issue.”

Now came the tedious task of renting a car. Calling Myra tempted me, but I already felt like a crappy boss for calling her while she was on vacation. It’s just a car rental, so it should be easy. I looked it up on my phone as I walked out of the garage and hopped into the back seat of the URyde car service. After confirming with the driver, we were on our way. Once I was comfortable, I pressed the call button.

“Vida Car Rentals,” came a stern voice on the other end. “How can I help you?”

“Yes, I need to rent a car for tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure we have anything available,” she said. “Myrtle, can you help this customer?”

I waited while another woman took over the call.

“Hi, my name is Myrtle, and I’d be happy to help you. Oh, I see you’re getting a car rental. Name?” said the bubbly elder voice.

“Sean Iverleigh. I’m trying to get a car for tomorrow.”

“Oh yes, I see you right here. Evie…Ivie, you said? Shane?”

“It’s Iverleigh, not Evie,” I corrected her.

“Oh, just let me make sure I have this correct in my system. Give me just a moment.” She clicked away on her computer. “It’s a good thing you already have a reservation because we are completely booked for the convention this week. Okay, now. First name Iverleigh, last name Shane? Can you spell the first name for me, dear?”

“First name Sean, S-E-A-N. And last name I-V-E-R-L-E-I-G-H,” I replied, confused.

“Alrighty then… It will be first-come, first-served on the vehicle, unless you have a specific request. We have a Camry, a Focus, and a Lexus. It’s a little more.”

“I’ll reserve the Lexus, please, ma’am.” I laid on the charm.

“You’re all set,” she chirped, a bit too perky for this early in the morning.

Now, how I got up and dragged my ass to the airport at eight in the morning after just three hours of sleep was beyond me. But I managed.

As I stepped into the rental lobby, unsure of how busy they would be, the heavy glass door swished shut behind me. I removed my Ray-Ban sunglasses and let my eyes adjust to the interior light.

Pausing just past the entrance, I let my eyes wander. A customer with keys in hand wheeled a suitcase across the polished, slightly scuffed concrete tile floor as he was being escorted out another door. Soft instrumental Yacht Rock played from invisible speakers as I looked toward the help counter.

And then I saw her. I’d recognize those long bronze legs anywhere. Pretty unforgettable.

She was at the counter, speaking to a rental agent. Her voice was low, but the curve of her hips, the tilt of her head, and that tight ass were all unmistakable. Gabbie.

She wore denim shorts and a fitted white top with a short, cropped sweater. Her long, dark hair was swept up in an effortlessly messy ponytail. One hand rested on the counter, fingers drumming lightly. I could almost hear the rhythm from where I stood.

I froze for a second, almost entranced by her. She was hot last night in a mini cocktail dress, her thick hair down and swaying as she danced. And today she was, well, beautiful, natural, breathtaking.

She hadn’t seen me yet. She was half-turned, angled just enough for me to see her profile and the look of concern on her face. The agent nodded in response to something she said and began typing.

I wanted to say hi, maybe get her number. There was a chance I’d make my way back to Florida, but I wasn’t sure she’d be interested. No harm in shooting my shot, right?

“Can I help you, sir?” another agent called to me as she approached her computer.

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