Page 50 of The Biker and the Gamer
"What? You can't—"
"You got a problem with it, then don't bother showing up tomorrow." I scrawl my signature for the umpteenth time. "Now close. The damn. Door."
When I detect no movement from her, I slowly turn my head in her direction. She's fuming, eyes hard, mouth tight. I dare her to fight back, because boy am I in the mood for this shit today.So come at me, sweetie.But all she does is huff and stomp out the side door that takes her to the customers’ area.
I’m disappointed.
"Again, sir, I'm sincerely sorry," I hear her apologize some seconds later. "But we're closed."
"According to the sign outside and the one on the door, you're open."
As if seized by sudden paralysis, my entire body, joints, nerves and all, locks up.No. There's no way.
"I know, but I'm sure you just heard...That's an error on my part."
It's not real. It's not him. He's not here. That's not his voice.
Don't look up. Don't look up.
But it doesn't matter if I look up or not. He can see me. Nothing is hiding me from his view—save for our new double-screen computer whichsort ofobscures me only if I have my head down.
And if it's really him, he won’t leave no matter what Lisa says. Because he's here forme.
He.
Came.
Back.
"Well, that's your mistake now, isn't it?"
"Hey, I remember you," Lisa says, recognition in her voice. "You're one of those gamers from a few months ago. No, you're theowner."
"Bingo. Now does that mean you'll give me special treatment and help me out here?"
"That depends." Lisa's voice is suddenly overtly flirtatious. "What do you need?"
"I need air."
"For your tire?"
"No." Long pause. His voice is suddenly closer when he continues, "For my heart. It's been punctured flat for the past five months."
"Oh, mygawwd," I drawl, unable to help it. "That's the corniest thing I've ever heard."
When I finally set the pen down and look up, he's right there, peering over the dual monitors at me.
Our eyes connect, and it's like a shot of dopamine straight to my heart. Suddenly, I don't feel like I'm dangling from a tree by my feet anymore. I feel corrected. Steady. Grounded. He's what my heart needed. What my soul has been missing.
Those eyes. That purposeful stare. That jawline. That luscious hair.
"Hi," he says with a mischievous smile.
"We're closed," is all I'm able to get out.
"Oof," he grunts, clutching his chest. "Straight to the heart."
"Okayyyy," Lisa drags from somewhere. "I don't know what's happening here, but, um… Can I go?"
