away.” Glancing at my dusty clothes, I add, “And clean up a bit, and then we’re off. I’ll be quick. I promise.”
Leah insists on grabbing the paint cans as I carry the ladder into the alley behind the store.
“Thanks. I’ll be ready in a few.” As I take the cans in one hand, I hold the bookstore’s back door open for her with the other.
“I’ll meet you in the front. It’s too nice a day to spend a moment inside that I don’t have to.”
I rush in, dropping the paint by the back door. I snatch a clean T-shirt out of my knapsack stuffed under Ed’s desk and head for the bathroom. I wash the grime off my face, arms, and hands, and change in a minute flat. On my way back through the office, I grab an old jean jacket forgotten by a past employee. Thank goodness Ed never throws anything away. From the faint scent of weed and the peace patch sewn on the sleeve, I guess it was Journey’s. But it’ll have to do.
At the front of the store, Ed leans against the counter and peers out the window.
“I was going to take my lunch break. Would that be all right?”
“She’s a cute girl.” He jabs his finger to the window.
“Yeah, she’s okay.” I lie. She’s so much more than cute . “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
Ed ignores me. “She. Is. A. Cute. Girl.”
“Around two.”
Ed rolls his eyes. “Take an extra-long lunch break.”
“I can’t. I want to get most of the scraping done this afternoon so I can take tomorrow afternoon off. If you don’t mind, that is. It’s supposed to be a hot one.”
“How long has this place looked like this?” he asks. “Years,” he says, answering his own question. “So if a pretty girl wants to spend time with you, take advantage of it. Someday, you’ll look like this.” Ed displays himself. I half expect him to twirl.
I laugh. “You’re still a handsome dude. I won’t be too long.”
Ed huffs. “Romance is wasted on the young. If I were your age and a girl like that wanted to go on a ride with me, I wouldn’t be back for hours. Work be damned.”
I can’t fight back the smirk. “Bye, Ed.”
“Have some fun for me,” he calls.
I grin back at him and head out the door. The heat from the afternoon sun blazes down.
Leah’s waiting in the shade. “Wow, you were quick.”
I smile, remove the helmet from the bike’s side hook, and hold it out to her. “This is for you.”
“Where’s yours?”
I knock my knuckle on the top of my skull. “I don’t need one. Hard head. And put this on, too,” I say, holding out the jacket.
Leah begins to protest as she tugs on the helmet. “But it’s gotta be close to ninety-five.”
I rub the sheer fabric of her sleeve between my thumb and fingers. “If something happens, this won’t be much protection.”
She gives a defeated sigh and takes the jacket. She sniffs the sleeve and scrunches her nose. “It smells sickly sweet, like…” She pauses to think. “Like pot.”
I mount the bike and start the engine. As the old Triumph rumbles to life, I tap the seat behind me. “The jacket isn’t mine. I found it in the office. Probably Journey’s. Wasn’t he one of your favorites?” I grin.
Leah groans and rolls her eyes as she joins me—using my shoulder for support. She straddles the seat, and her legs press against mine. Her slender arms wrap around my waist. My heart quickens and feels as if it might lunge right out of my chest. Her breath warms the bare skin of my neck. As we begin to roll, Leah’s arms tighten. I chuckle. Ed’s right; an hour won’t be long enough.
The road winds northward, hugging the coast. Between long stretches of sun-baked forest, small villages with tall, white steeples play peek-a-boo along the rocky shoreline. The wind ruffles my hair, giving me the sensation of flying. The road snakes right, then left. Every sharp corner earns me a squeal, and Leah’s arms wrap tighter around my waist. Again, the woods begin to thin, and a town situated on a lazy
Leah insists on grabbing the paint cans as I carry the ladder into the alley behind the store.
“Thanks. I’ll be ready in a few.” As I take the cans in one hand, I hold the bookstore’s back door open for her with the other.
“I’ll meet you in the front. It’s too nice a day to spend a moment inside that I don’t have to.”
I rush in, dropping the paint by the back door. I snatch a clean T-shirt out of my knapsack stuffed under Ed’s desk and head for the bathroom. I wash the grime off my face, arms, and hands, and change in a minute flat. On my way back through the office, I grab an old jean jacket forgotten by a past employee. Thank goodness Ed never throws anything away. From the faint scent of weed and the peace patch sewn on the sleeve, I guess it was Journey’s. But it’ll have to do.
At the front of the store, Ed leans against the counter and peers out the window.
“I was going to take my lunch break. Would that be all right?”
“She’s a cute girl.” He jabs his finger to the window.
“Yeah, she’s okay.” I lie. She’s so much more than cute . “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
Ed ignores me. “She. Is. A. Cute. Girl.”
“Around two.”
Ed rolls his eyes. “Take an extra-long lunch break.”
“I can’t. I want to get most of the scraping done this afternoon so I can take tomorrow afternoon off. If you don’t mind, that is. It’s supposed to be a hot one.”
“How long has this place looked like this?” he asks. “Years,” he says, answering his own question. “So if a pretty girl wants to spend time with you, take advantage of it. Someday, you’ll look like this.” Ed displays himself. I half expect him to twirl.
I laugh. “You’re still a handsome dude. I won’t be too long.”
Ed huffs. “Romance is wasted on the young. If I were your age and a girl like that wanted to go on a ride with me, I wouldn’t be back for hours. Work be damned.”
I can’t fight back the smirk. “Bye, Ed.”
“Have some fun for me,” he calls.
I grin back at him and head out the door. The heat from the afternoon sun blazes down.
Leah’s waiting in the shade. “Wow, you were quick.”
I smile, remove the helmet from the bike’s side hook, and hold it out to her. “This is for you.”
“Where’s yours?”
I knock my knuckle on the top of my skull. “I don’t need one. Hard head. And put this on, too,” I say, holding out the jacket.
Leah begins to protest as she tugs on the helmet. “But it’s gotta be close to ninety-five.”
I rub the sheer fabric of her sleeve between my thumb and fingers. “If something happens, this won’t be much protection.”
She gives a defeated sigh and takes the jacket. She sniffs the sleeve and scrunches her nose. “It smells sickly sweet, like…” She pauses to think. “Like pot.”
I mount the bike and start the engine. As the old Triumph rumbles to life, I tap the seat behind me. “The jacket isn’t mine. I found it in the office. Probably Journey’s. Wasn’t he one of your favorites?” I grin.
Leah groans and rolls her eyes as she joins me—using my shoulder for support. She straddles the seat, and her legs press against mine. Her slender arms wrap around my waist. My heart quickens and feels as if it might lunge right out of my chest. Her breath warms the bare skin of my neck. As we begin to roll, Leah’s arms tighten. I chuckle. Ed’s right; an hour won’t be long enough.
The road winds northward, hugging the coast. Between long stretches of sun-baked forest, small villages with tall, white steeples play peek-a-boo along the rocky shoreline. The wind ruffles my hair, giving me the sensation of flying. The road snakes right, then left. Every sharp corner earns me a squeal, and Leah’s arms wrap tighter around my waist. Again, the woods begin to thin, and a town situated on a lazy
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