2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
H ot flames of embarrassment nip at my neck. Horrified, I stare at him through my visor as everything I said replays in my mind.
His soft chuckles come in crystal clear. “Yeah, sorry. I should have warned you the helmets are synced.”
“That would have been nice,” I croak.
Maybe dying on the side of the road would be better than the awkward fifteen minutes I’m about to spend on the back of his bike. Oh, man. Had I confessed to ogling him?
“I hear you groaning. It’s fine—a compliment, really.”
I duck my head.
“Seriously. Don’t worry about it,” he soothes and pats the tiny seat behind him. “Hop on.”
“It’s easy for you to say.” My sentence ends with a squeak as another car zooms around the corner and blares its horn at us.
“Maya.” There’s a gentle sternness to my name. “We are running out of daylight, and I need you to get on the bike before one of these cars crashes into us. Please.”
“Okay... okay.” I swallow my pride, step up on the peg, and propel myself onto the motorcycle. It isn’t elegant or graceful. In fact, I think I might have strangled him when I used his shirt as leverage so I didn’t tumble over the side.
“See? Not so bad,” he says, adjusting his neckline.
I lean away, giving him an appropriate amount of space. What am I supposed to be holding on to? There are no handles.
“You comfortable?”
“Well, I’m on, if that’s what you mean. Comfortable is a strong word.”
The engine rumbles to life, vibrating through me.
“You’ll get used to it. Oh, also make sure your skirt isn’t anywhere near the back wheel.”
“The fabric is too taut to move with my legs . . . um . . . in this position.”
“Good. Now wrap your arms around my waist and hold on.”
I swallow nervously. Don’t make this a big deal, Maya.
“Okay,” I mumble. The movement has me sliding forward, nearly smushing us together. I try to shimmy backward, but he lifts the kickstand and takes off. The sudden movement causes my arms to bear-hug his waist, and I collide into his back. “That was a reflex, sorry.”
“You’re fine. Just don’t squeeze too hard or I won’t be able to breathe. Also try to lean into the turns when I do.”
My grip tightens on the first curve, the bike tilting toward the ground. One of his hands rests over both of mine clutching the fabric at his waist.
“You okay? Do you need me to slow down?”
“No, I’m getting used to it now.”
It’s true. My muscles relax with each twist and turn down the mountain road. The worrisome thoughts float away as my trust in Desmond grows with each passing mile marker. Not sure when it happened, but it’s like we’re one person, leaning into another turn together. He picks up speed on the straightaway, and adrenaline rushes through my veins like electricity, nearly taking my breath away. I hold on tighter, wanting the feeling to never stop.
A cool breeze whips through us, a gentle reminder that autumn is around the corner. He wasn’t lying about the chill. Thankfully he offered his jacket, because even with it on, the wind has an icy bite. Leaning in, I snuggle closer to his warmth.
It takes me half a second to register what I’m doing before I rear back.
He’s someone’s boyfriend, Maya.
“Sorry... I guess I got a little too comfortable.”
“No need to apologize.” He pats my fists, reminding me I still have his shirt balled up in my hands. “Relax and enjoy the ride.”
Gentling my hold, I force my fingers to spread out naturally over his abs. I can feel each ridge through his flimsy dress shirt. Oh, goodness. I’m not sure this was what he meant when he told me to relax.
“Is this okay? I’m not sure what to do.”
“It’s perfect,” he says, his voice deeper than before. “You’re doing great—a natural, really.”
I know he’s lying, but I appreciate where his heart is at.
“Thank you, Desmond.”
“Just Des.”
He taps my hand, summoning the butterflies again.
A small smile tugs at my lips, and I’m thankful he can’t see me swooning behind him. Since my disastrous breakup, I’ve been worried it would be years until I could feel that spark with anyone else. It’s a relief to know my heart is ready even if my brain is not—especially not with someone else’s man. Perhaps I need to lay off the romance books in the meantime...
Before I can embarrass myself further, I turn my head toward the last strip of the setting sun, its warm glow illuminating the trees. I swear this is like a scene from one of my books—the pink sorbet horizon is too perfect to be real.
But if Felipe taught me anything, it’s that if it seems too good to be true, then it probably is.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, unable to stop myself.
“It’s my favorite time of day to ride. You get the best views from a motorcycle. Sometimes it feels like I’m chasing the sun.” He lifts his hand as if he could reach the fading ball of light.
We fall into a companionable silence, listening to the rumbles of the engine. If it didn’t snow so much in Colorado, I’d consider saving up for a bike myself. It’s freeing in a way I didn’t expect.
I groan when he slows to take the exit for Rocosa. He responds with a chuckle through our connecting speaker.
We turn off the main road into what feels like another world. Planters of blooming flowers dot the sidewalks, and fairy lights are strung from evenly spaced aspens all the way down Main Street. To my right, a red Victorian-looking house sits regally at the dead end. But Des veers left, barely hitting the throttle as we slowly pass the glowing storefront windows. Wooden business signs hang above their doors, adding to the town’s old-fashioned appeal.
It’s almost as if I traveled back in time.
No big chain stores or flashy neon signs crowd the streets like in Denver. Most of the businesses are locally owned with cute little names like “Lula Belle’s Cafe” and “Clips and Curls.” Everything is conveniently within walking distance and located right in the heart of town. Coffee shop, bookstore, bar, antique shop, bakery—more than I expected. More shops continue down the side streets, and behind Main Street is a long stretch of grass where a small group of kids are playing soccer under the streetlights, enjoying the last hours of their summer vacation. It’s relaxed and quaint, with a handful of people strolling down the sidewalks, some even lifting a hand to wave as we pass.
I could easily imagine spending my day wandering down the main strip and window-shopping. With Mamá’s birthday this weekend, this will be the perfect place to find her a handmade birthday gift.
I’m still window-shopping when the engine cuts off, and I realize we’re parked on the curb in front of Mountain Auto Repair.
Strangely enough, I catch myself hesitating to hop off. My blood is still pumping from the ride, and I restrain myself from requesting a few more times around the block. I’m sure this man isn’t expecting to get stuck with me for the rest of the evening and is ready to continue on with his life.
He pats my hand, a signal more than for reassurance this time. “We’re here.”
“Right.” I clear my throat and untangle my arms from around him. Unprepared for a far drop, I slide awkwardly from the bike, stumbling a few steps before he reaches out to stabilize me.
“Careful,” he says.
“My legs feel like Jell-O.” I laugh, my knees still trembling from the vibration. I can’t see his mouth, but his eyes crinkle.
“It happens to all the first-timers. It will go away the more you ride.” He squeezes my forearm and gently pulls me closer. “I’ll take your helmet off for you. The latch can be tricky.”
“Okay,” I mumble, lost in his silver eyes through the visor. Such beautiful, kind eyes that almost have me believing that this guy is different from the other men I have met before. This is no Felipe.
But... that would be silly to think from one look.
Shaking off these romantic notions, I return both the helmet and gloves. What has gotten into me? I blame the motorcycle. Who wouldn’t swoon if they were rescued by a handsome biker?
“Seriously, Des, you were a lifesaver. I’d still be on that mountain if you hadn’t come along. Thank you.”
He shrugs as if embarrassed by my gratitude.
“I can see why people love riding on these. It really was kinda of fun there at the end.”
We’re still so close, but neither of us shift to move away. Those dang butterflies take flight in my stomach as he continues to stare at me. It’s a thoughtful look, like I’m some intricate puzzle he’s trying to solve.
“You can ride with me any time.” The statement is soft, and I wonder if he meant to say it aloud. He shakes his head and points to the building. “Hurry up and go inside while I park. You have eight minutes before this place closes. Small town problems. Oh, ask for Reese.”
The engine roars to life, startling me back a step. Then he takes off, leaving me clutching my purse on the sidewalk, my insides in knots. An older couple sits on a bench blatantly staring and whispering. Before they think to come over, I dart inside the small building.
I didn’t expect to step right into the garage instead of the waiting area. Strong odors of oil and tire rubber fill the air, and the clunking of metal sounds in the direction of a car hoisted a few feet in the air. There’s no one in the vicinity, so I call out, hoping not to frighten anyone with my presence.
“Hello? I’m looking for Reese. Can you tell me where to find him?”
The noise stops, and a slender blonde woman slides out from under the car. Her overalls are splattered in dark stains similar to the greasy smudge on her pink cheek. A checkered bandana is tied beneath her messy bun and matches her navy denim. If Hasbro made a mechanic Barbie doll, this woman would be their inspiration.
“That’s me.” She wipes her hands down the front of her overalls. Her gray eyes dart to the clock on the wall and back to me. “What can I do for you?”
“Des is parking the bike, but he told me to ask for you.”
“Oh?” Her eyes twinkle, and her professional grin melts into something mischievous. “ Oooh. That was a quick dinner. I’m guessing things went well if he brought you to meet his sister after one date.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Was it love at first sight?”
My cheeks heat at her assumption, and I struggle to form my next sentence as a thousand questions hit me about his dating life. This is not the conversation I thought I’d be having when I walked in here.
“I— what ? No, we were not on a date.” The floral scent from his helmet suddenly makes sense. So he doesn’t have a girlfriend... not that it matters. “I mean, he could have been on one earlier, but it was not with me.”
“Yet you are wearing my brother’s jacket.”
His jacket. Goodness. I forgot it was still on. Shrugging it off, I drape it over my arm. “He said it was for protection while we were riding.”
Her smile dips. “He let you ride on his bike? Des? Okay, now I don’t believe you.”
“Just give me a second to explain,” I beg, my palms in the air. “I’m here for professional reasons only.”
Narrowing her gaze, she crosses her arms and waits for me to continue.
Before she can interrupt again, I fill her in on breaking down on the side of the road and how her brother had been my knight in shining armor.
“Typical Des. He has a soft spot for people in need.” She shakes her head as if compassion is a vice. “But yeah, I can get you squared away. Let me call my buddy Marco to tow your bus. Where are you heading?”
“Marco Santos from Precision Towing? That’s my primo—I mean, my cousin.”
“Really?” Her face lights up. “He’s the sweetest. He’s always sending business my way. Ah, heck. Now I feel bad that I gave you a hard time. Let’s start over. I’m Reese Brooks.” She extends her hand, her cuticles dark with some unknown substance.
“Maya Santos,” I say as I place my hand in hers and shake. “How soon can I get an appointment? I was hoping to have the bookmobile ready tomorrow for the first day of school, but I’m willing to settle for the first week.”
She heads over to the bar-height desk scattered with paperwork. Even though it’s a mess, she unearths a tablet and taps on the screen. “Yeah, I can squeeze you in ASAP. Tourist season is dwindling down. Start by filling this out.” She hands me the tablet and props her arm on the desk. “How long are you in town for?”
“Couple weeks? I won’t know till I see the library and talk with the assistant principal.”
Her face twists. “Oh, you have to meet with Adam Monroe? I’m sorry to hear you drove all the way for that.”
I chuckle but keep my attention on filling out the form.
“You know, Des works at the school too. He teaches high school math.”
I glance up to see her sweet smile. “Oh yeah? Then maybe I’ll see him again.”
“Maybe. He’s a workaholic.”
I hit the submit button and hand the tablet back to her. “Well, I’m a bookaholic, and since I’m a librarian, it’s kinda the same thing.”
“I’m not much of a physical book girl myself. I prefer audiobooks. There’s just no way I can sit long enough to read. I’m always in motion.” Reese’s fingers are a blur as she enters a few notes into the tablet. She gestures for my keys. “I won’t charge you until the work is done. But I’m going to warn you, I don’t have a lot of spare parts here. There’s a good chance I’ll have to order something. So you’re right... it definitely won’t be ready by tomorrow.”
“Maybe Friday?”
She tags the keys and puts them into a numbered tray.
“I’ll try... promise. Do you need anything in the meantime while you wait? Hotel? Rental car? In small towns like this, we always like to lend a helping hand—as you’ve already seen.”
“Personally, I’m good. Now professionally, I might need some help sorting through the library’s catalog. If you know any volunteers, send them my way.”
“Can I volunteer my brother?” she asks, tilting her head.
Crossing my arms, I hold her not-so-innocent stare. I have a big family with loads of matchmaking aunts and older cousins. Since my quinceanera, it’s been their lifelong mission to see me find someone. I know the telltale tingles of meddling when I feel it.
And boy, it’s tingling hard.
“Self-volunteering only. I don’t want to force anyone into a commitment they don’t want,” I respond, hoping she hears the underlying message.
Reese smirks. “Don’t you remember? Des loves helping people. It’s his kryptonite.”
“He’d have to reach out to me if he’s interested.”
“I’ll tell him. Do you need a lift somewhere? Are you staying at Storybook Inn?”
“No, I’m crashing with a friend. It’s a shame because I’ve heard such great things about the place. Rumors are that celebrities stay there sometimes—is that true?”
She mimes a zipper over her lips. “We protect our own here in Rocosa. You won’t get anything out of me.”
“It was worth a try.”
My phone vibrates in my purse, rattling all the random junk I toss in there. I place Des’s jacket on the desk and scramble to dig out my phone. Julia’s name flashes across my screen.
“ Oh. I have to take this. But seriously, thank you so much, Reese. You and your brother have been so helpful. Please tell him I said that.”
Reese nods, typing a few things into the tablet. “You’re good to go. I’ll handle the rest.”
I answer right before it goes to voicemail.
“Julia?”
“Maya! Holy guacamole, are you okay? I’m just now getting all your messages.”
I burst out laughing at her newest expression. Since she teaches elementary students, she uses the most off-the-wall phrases, the sillier the better, even when she’s not at school. It’s something she started during her student teaching after we graduated from Colorado University. After two years, I should be used to it, but some of them really catch me off guard.
“Stop laughing at me. This is serious. Where are you?”
“I just wasn’t prepared for a Julia-ism as soon as I picked up. Is that a new one?”
“Maya!”
“All right, all right. There’s no need to panic. I’m safe and at Mountain Auto Repair in town. You won’t believe the day I’ve had. I finally get the approval on my project and the stinking bus breaks down. I hope it doesn’t take long for them to fix it.”
“If anyone can do it, Lewis and Reese can. You’re in luck. I was at the grocery store grabbing some things for tonight, so I’m only three minutes away. I’ll come pick you up.”
“Thank you, Julia.”
“Pfft. For all the times you chauffeured me around in college, I’ll never be out of your debt.”
“A true friendship doesn’t hold debts.”
“I’ll remind you of that when we are at dinner next and you’re picking up the tab. I’m a poor third-grade teacher, as you know.”
With a laugh, I wave bye to Reese before walking out the door.
“I don’t make any more than you do.”
“Get ready to jump in. There are never any parking spots available on Main Street, so I’m just gonna put on my blinkers and stop in front of the shop. Be quick. The sheriff here takes his job way too seriously. Don’t even think of jaywalking.”
“I would never.” A blue sedan with flashing headlights pulls up. “Oh, I see you. Are you driving the same car from college?”
“I repeat, I’m a poor teacher. Now stop judging me and get in.”
Julia ends the call, gesturing from the window to hurry. But I find myself hesitating again. Chewing on my bottom lip, I scan the streets, wondering where Des has wandered off to. I guess it isn’t a big deal. I’ll see him tomorrow at school to give him a proper thank-you.
After one last glance, I jump into Julia’s car, and we take off down Main Street.