Read Online Straddling the Line by Sarah M. Anderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah M. Anderson
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gears.
“Sweetie?” Mom was looking at her. Josey realized she’d lost track of the conversation.
“Huh?”
“I said, I didn’t want to interrupt your tour. Mr. Bolton, it is truly a pleasure to meet you.”
“Ma’am, the feeling is mutual.” Except he had that big, flashy smile on his face. He waited until Mom had reclaimed the bag of peanut butter sandwiches before he turned back to her. “But I do have to be going. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.” And then he extended his hand for a nice, professional handshake.
Really? After he’d hunted her down—after he’d seen her at her grimiest—after that kiss— she was going to get a handshake?
Ben shook her mother’s hand, too. Josey guessed he was thanking her, too, but her ears weren’t working. Nothing was working.
Ben turned back to her. His eyes blazed at her. “Josey, I’ll be in contact.”
Her name. It was the first time he’d said it out loud.
The question was, what kind of contact?
Four
T he clanking of the garage door sliding up snapped Ben back to awareness. He was at the shop? Funny. He didn’t remember deciding to come back here. The last thing he remembered was…
Kissing Josey White Plume.
Damn. He’d kissed her. Again. This time had been different, though. He’d touched her. The heat of her bare skin still burned against his palms. Under his touch, her body had shaken with the kind of desire that couldn’t be faked. The way she made him feel—it went way beyond not getting laid for a while. She drove him to distraction. If her mom hadn’t barged in on them, there was no telling how far he would have taken her. How far she would have let him take her.
Not a mistake.
Was it?
“What are you doing here?” Ben’s head shot up to find his older brother, Billy, standing in the middle of the shop, a muffler in his hand.
“I went for a ride today. She was pulling a little to the left.” Ben rolled his bike into an open bay. “Been a while since I took her apart and put her back together.”
So he hadn’t consciously come back here. He normally changed the oil at his place. But getting his hands dirty and shooting the breeze with Billy was just what he needed to get that woman—that kiss—out of his system.
Billy shot Ben one of those looks and then smiled. It was probably a damn good thing the big man never shaved. No woman would ever look at Ben—or even Bobby-the-playboy—if Billy bothered to clean up. God only knew why he didn’t. “Who is she?”
He ground his teeth. Was it that damn obvious? He stripped off his nylon jacket and dug out his coveralls. “No one. I just need to take better care of my bike.”
Billy laughed at him. “Yeah. Right.” But he had the decency not to press the issue. Instead, he turned back to the bike he was working on.
Zipping into his coveralls, Ben did a double take. The chassis of the machine Billy was working on was three-pronged. “I didn’t think we made trikes.”
Billy’s normal glower settled back over his face. “We don’t.”
“So what are you doing?”
“ We don’t. I’m doing this on my own time.” Before Ben could ask the most important question, Billy added, “And my own money, too. This has nothing to do with the company.”
Ben didn’t get anything else, and he didn’t push. If he wasn’t shouting at Dad, Billy rarely talked. Now that Ben thought about it, this was the longest yell-free conversation he’d had with his big brother in years.
Ben got to work. He’d built this bike with his own hands back in high school. He didn’t care if the money was in wild choppers with crazy handlebars or Batman rip-offs with ultralow-profile tires. This bike was his and his alone. He knew exactly how fast it accelerated and decelerated, and exactly how fast he could bank a corner before he lost control. He had the scars to prove it.
He started with the oil while Billy worked in the next bay on his trike. “Who’s the trike
“Sweetie?” Mom was looking at her. Josey realized she’d lost track of the conversation.
“Huh?”
“I said, I didn’t want to interrupt your tour. Mr. Bolton, it is truly a pleasure to meet you.”
“Ma’am, the feeling is mutual.” Except he had that big, flashy smile on his face. He waited until Mom had reclaimed the bag of peanut butter sandwiches before he turned back to her. “But I do have to be going. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.” And then he extended his hand for a nice, professional handshake.
Really? After he’d hunted her down—after he’d seen her at her grimiest—after that kiss— she was going to get a handshake?
Ben shook her mother’s hand, too. Josey guessed he was thanking her, too, but her ears weren’t working. Nothing was working.
Ben turned back to her. His eyes blazed at her. “Josey, I’ll be in contact.”
Her name. It was the first time he’d said it out loud.
The question was, what kind of contact?
Four
T he clanking of the garage door sliding up snapped Ben back to awareness. He was at the shop? Funny. He didn’t remember deciding to come back here. The last thing he remembered was…
Kissing Josey White Plume.
Damn. He’d kissed her. Again. This time had been different, though. He’d touched her. The heat of her bare skin still burned against his palms. Under his touch, her body had shaken with the kind of desire that couldn’t be faked. The way she made him feel—it went way beyond not getting laid for a while. She drove him to distraction. If her mom hadn’t barged in on them, there was no telling how far he would have taken her. How far she would have let him take her.
Not a mistake.
Was it?
“What are you doing here?” Ben’s head shot up to find his older brother, Billy, standing in the middle of the shop, a muffler in his hand.
“I went for a ride today. She was pulling a little to the left.” Ben rolled his bike into an open bay. “Been a while since I took her apart and put her back together.”
So he hadn’t consciously come back here. He normally changed the oil at his place. But getting his hands dirty and shooting the breeze with Billy was just what he needed to get that woman—that kiss—out of his system.
Billy shot Ben one of those looks and then smiled. It was probably a damn good thing the big man never shaved. No woman would ever look at Ben—or even Bobby-the-playboy—if Billy bothered to clean up. God only knew why he didn’t. “Who is she?”
He ground his teeth. Was it that damn obvious? He stripped off his nylon jacket and dug out his coveralls. “No one. I just need to take better care of my bike.”
Billy laughed at him. “Yeah. Right.” But he had the decency not to press the issue. Instead, he turned back to the bike he was working on.
Zipping into his coveralls, Ben did a double take. The chassis of the machine Billy was working on was three-pronged. “I didn’t think we made trikes.”
Billy’s normal glower settled back over his face. “We don’t.”
“So what are you doing?”
“ We don’t. I’m doing this on my own time.” Before Ben could ask the most important question, Billy added, “And my own money, too. This has nothing to do with the company.”
Ben didn’t get anything else, and he didn’t push. If he wasn’t shouting at Dad, Billy rarely talked. Now that Ben thought about it, this was the longest yell-free conversation he’d had with his big brother in years.
Ben got to work. He’d built this bike with his own hands back in high school. He didn’t care if the money was in wild choppers with crazy handlebars or Batman rip-offs with ultralow-profile tires. This bike was his and his alone. He knew exactly how fast it accelerated and decelerated, and exactly how fast he could bank a corner before he lost control. He had the scars to prove it.
He started with the oil while Billy worked in the next bay on his trike. “Who’s the trike
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