Page 24 of The Biker's Virgin
“I’m tuning this mandolin, and then I’m going to go and tune that upright bass over there,” she said, pointing to the huge instrument leaning against the makeshift stage.
“Upright bass, huh. Just looks like a giant guitar to me.”
Olivia laughed. “I can see how you could think that.” She set down the mandolin and crossed her legs, still seated on the tiny stool. She didn’t want to get too close to him, she had spent the entire morning hanging out in a stinky barn after riding her bike 15 miles in the morning heat. Not to mention, according to Steve, her boots were smelling a little ripe.
“Actually, I meant, what are you doing here? At Steve’s place,” Blaine clarified.
“Oh, Steve is friends with my dad. I’m sort of an honorary member of their band,” she said, smoothing her dress over her legs.
“Really, that’s an interesting rag-tag group of people.”
“Speak for yourself.” Olivia said and then clamped her hand over her mouth. ‘Why did I say that?’
“Touché.” Blaine chuckled and pulled up a seat beside her. “Can you play me something?”
“Well, this isn’t my instrument…” she trailed off.
“Miss, do you think I’m going to know the difference?” He smiled, picked up the mandolin, his huge hands dwarfing the tiny instrument, and handed it to her. She looked into his eyes – they exuded warmth, even though they were a cold crystal blue. She held his gaze and smiled at him as she reached for the mandolin. Her fingertips brushed his and Olivia felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her from head to toe. She knew that her face was flushing beet red and she scuffed the floor with her boots to try to avoid his gaze.
Her body switched on its autopilot, her subconscious knew that she wasn’t going to be able to speak or look at the man, so it started doing the thing it knew best. Playing music. She plucked away, slowly at first, and the clear unmistakable high mandolin tones rang out through the barn. She closed her eyes and did her best to transpose her knowledge of the mandolin into something remotely melodic.
When she opened her eyes, she was afraid to look over at Blaine. Playing music was something she did well, but this was the first time that it had made her feel vulnerable. She took a deep breath and turned to face him. He was staring at her and smiling. His legs were spread wide on the little stool and his elbows rested on his knees. She started to speak, but he reached out and took her face into his hands and pulled it to his. When his lips met hers, she quivered. The kiss was gentle but lingering. Olivia brought her hands up and rested them on his. His lips were soft, and everything around her melted away as she felt his breath mingle with hers.
The barn door slammed and Olivia and Blaine jumped apart like they had been caught stealing. Steve was in the doorway, clearly unimpressed. His hands were on his hips and he was stamping his well-worn Birkenstock on the barn-board floor.
“And what’s going on here?”
“Steve, Hi. I was just, um, stopping in to say hi,” Blaine stammered.
“Oh really, Brother? Is that how you say hi to everyone? Where’s mine, man?” Steve tossed the rag in his hand onto the floor.
Olivia had never seen Steve agitated before.
“Are you ok, Liv?” he looked at Olivia with concern in his eyes.
“Yyyyes,” Olivia whispered.
“Blaine, man. Let’s go outside and have a word.” Steve dramatically opened the door with one arm and motioned for Blaine to exit with the other.
Blaine squeezed Olivia’s bare shoulder and let his hand run down her arm as he walked away.
“Now, Blaine,” Steve yelled.
Olivia jumped. She had definitely never heard Steve raise his voice before. Blaine broke into a light jog and disappeared out into the sunlight. Steve let the door slam. Olivia crept to the door and peered out through the worn slats. She could hear Steve shouting, but they were too far away for her to hear what they were saying. From his body language, it was clear that Steve was upset. He waved his arms and shook his head. Blaine stood stoically in front of him, his arms crossed, nodding his head. The conversation continued for a good five minutes before Blaine turned and walked out of her eyesight. She saw Steve returning to the barn, clearly in a huff. She ran to the stool and picked up the mandolin, pretending to be occupied with tuning the perfectly tuned instrument.
Steve walked in and slammed the door.
“Goddammit!” He yelled and kicked at the door. It shuddered on its hinges.
Olivia froze. She didn’t know what to do or say. Steve was pacing and muttering to himself, “Fucking guys, think that they can do whatever they want.”
“Steve,” Olivia whispered.
Steve kept pacing and muttering like a caged lion. “Steve,” she said a little louder. He still didn’t acknowledge her.
She stood up, walked over to the drum kit, grabbed a well-worn drumstick and smashed one of the cymbals with all her might. “Steve!”
The abrupt clatter caught Steve’s attention, and surprisingly calmed him down.
