Page 18 of Your Two Lips
I was free to be anyone I wanted to be, almost. I wanted to be a mom and a wife. That hadn’t worked out. So, new plan. I would be a bourbon drinking, mountain biking, sex goddess. I wondered if Finn liked bourbon.
14
FINN
The smellof cut cedar planks, motor oil, and metal mixed with the fresh air smell of earth and new life in the old, detached garage housing my amateur bike shop. I did tune-ups and minor repairs on my bikes and bikes for others. Any payment received was usually in food or growlers of beer.
I often lost track of time out here while I worked on brakes or gear shifters. I didn’t hear Lucas walk in through the open rolling door.
“Hey, man, it’s about time for dinner. Are you going dressed like that?”
“What time is it?” I glanced at my watch. Five thirty. Shit. Mother’s Day. Shit. “Dinner. No. Not coming like this.” I hit the button to lower the big garage door, taking the damp gray light with it. “I’ll clean up in here, then grab a quick shower. Are you heading over now?” I wiped my grease-covered hands on a rag and lowered the bike I was working on to lean against a wall.
“Pretty soon. I need to throw my bag in the car. I’ll head back to Seattle after dinner. Anything else that needs to be done for the farm’s accounts I can do from there.” He paused. “I meant to ask you earlier, how’d the ride go yesterday? Emily went?”
My heart skipped. That hadn’t happened with the mention of a woman before. “Yeah. She’s good. And she agreed to partner with me for that bike race in a couple of months.”
Lucas frowned as he strolled toward the side door. “Heads up about Emily.”
I kept sorting my tools at my workbench. I didn’t want to hear his advice on women or about how he knew her in the city.
“Maybe take care, just a suggestion.”
“What do you mean?” I kept my eyes on my task.
“Her ex is the son of a prominent family in Seattle, and I doubt things ended well. I’ve seen the guy since that gala, and let’s just say, I am fairly sure he’s a dick. Hard to believe those two were ever together.”
I was more curious about that guy than was good for me.
“Thanks for the heads up, but we’re race partners. I’m not trying to date her.” I’d be kind, but I wouldn’t get involved. I may have some smokin’ hot dreams starring her, but in the daytime, I’d concentrate on my goals.
“Right.” Lucas smirked.
“You know me, Luc. New leaf here. I am on a woman hiatus.”
“If anyone is worth giving that up, it would be Emily.”
“I need to focus on my job, both my jobs. I’ll have plenty to keep me busy once Dad signs those papers. You should be more worried about that since I’ll be spending your money.”
“Whatever. I’m glad I can focus on work and women.”
I flipped him off.
He grabbed the door handle. “She must’ve dumped him. It’s hard to believe any man would give Emily the push. Though, I’ve seen rich people do dumber things.”
He got that right. “Luc, this warning is unnecessary. Emily and I are just in a bike race together. She has money and probably requires entertaining at a level beyond my wallet. She wouldn’t fit into my world. I am not going there no matter what she looks like.” I sighed and grabbed the last pile of tools to put away. “Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, that woman on a bike,” I muttered.
“You're weird. Don’t say that to anyone else.” He closed the door behind him.
“I’m here.Sorry I’m late. I got caught up with a bike,” I said, entering the big farmhouse kitchen. “Hey, squirt.”
My little sister, Tess, was home from grad school and not so little anymore. She winked at me as she grabbed an armful of plates and headed to the rarely used dining room.
Dining room dinners meant wine, and you better come dressed nicely, too. No exceptions. “Long drive in from college? We can wait while you change.” “Deep shoulder bruise from a fight you had with a tree on the trail? That’s why they sell those slings at Walgreens.” Mom didn’t demand much. A few civilized dinners with clean faces and cloth napkins weren’t a lot. Eating pizza in the living room watching football was still my favorite, though.
Mom walked around the large island and greeted me with a kiss and a hug. Her Kiss the Cook apron was more of a command than a slogan. Every time, a kiss and hug. I was twenty-seven years old. I lived forty yards away.
“Are you adding a jet pack to that thing so you can actually fly when you are … what is it, catching air?”
