Page 2 of Scrap Metal & Love Reforged

“He’ll be thrilled.”

Janet planted her elbows on the counter and leaned forward, cupping her face between her hands. “Serves the bastard right,” she muttered.

I said nothing. Arthur was the owner of the shop and frustrating to work with. He seldom lifted a finger to help anyone and spent most of his time in the back office, and yet he micromanaged everyone. So, about one day a week, he’d be in everyone’s face. He had a habit of hovering over people’s shoulders while they worked, not budging.

I’d been looking for another job for months without success. I couldn’t be picky. I needed this job, and that meant keeping my mouth shut. It wasn’t that I thought Janet would rat me out to the boss. Not intentionally, anyway. But the last thing I wanted was her accidently blurting it out.

“How’s the art competition going?” Janet asked. “You’re still working on that, right?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s going fine.”

Disastrously, actually. I needed about forty more hours in my week. As it was, I spent all my time at the shop, which left me too exhausted to eventhinkabout art. And a lot of what I did required me to go out and sift through stuff, too.

The roar of a Harley shattered the quiet. I glanced through the glass door and watched the rider park. My eyes wandered appreciatively over the bike. It was a sleek, beautiful thing made of silver metal and red-orange fiberglass. I sucked in a deep breath. It couldn’t be a Cosmic Starship, could it? I’d only ever seen glossy photos of them in magazines, often accompanied by an outrageous price tag.

“Well, that’s obnoxious,” Janet muttered.

Not obnoxious, beautiful. I set my phone on the counter and watched as the rider pulled off his helmet. His dark hair was flattened unevenly, and, after placing his helmet on the seat, the rider ran his fingers through the disheveled locks, attempting to put them into order, but failing.

With a cheerful grin, he entered the shop. My pulse jumped.

He might’ve been the most handsome man I’d ever met. And that mattered more than I wanted to admit. Jaw tight, I forced myself to look away, even trying to feign disinterest, which was really stupid. I wasn’t evenoutyet. Why bother looking this guy over at all?

But he was hot. And he clearly had good taste in bikes.

“Hey,” Janet greeted.

“Hello.”

His hazel eyes darted around the shop with interest, although there really wasn’t much worth looking at. All we had out here were a few seats, some pre-packaged snacks for guests, and a TV. There were a couple of air fresheners by the counter, but we only kept those up front because the one-week Arthur decided to micromanage ordering, he’d ordered them by mistake.

“Is there something we can help you with?” Janet asked.

The rider smirked like he had a secret he was dying to share. He looked like the sort of man who thought a lot of himself.

Probably a total asshole,I thought.

In fairness, though, if I’d been that attractive, I’d probably be an asshole, too.

“I’ve never been here before,” he said. “I wanted to come in and look around. I’m thinking I might need some work done on a couple of my bikes. But I wanted to see the place first, check out the staff. I’m very protective of my bikes.”

A couple of his bikes; acouple??! Sheesh…yep…asshole.

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” Janet said. “Are you new in town?” sounding like a pickup line.

The man shook his head. Without warning, his eyes seemed to snap to me. I looked back evenly and tried to keep from noticing how nice the man’s face was. Whatever he saw looking at me was impossible to tell, but he looked pleased and smug about it.

“No,” he said. “I’ve been around Bluehaven for a while now, and I always take my bikes to Mallory’s, but he sold the shop. It’sall gone downhill since, so I’m on the hunt for a new mechanic. Someone who will really respect my bikes.”

“He’s the bike man,” Janet said, jerking her head toward me.

“Is that his legal name?” the man asked.

“That’s almost funny. I can speak for myself, thanks,” I said dryly.

“Of course,” he replied. “Friends call me Seth. Enemies prefer ‘Unholy Abomination’. What do your friends call you?”

What friends?