Chapter Twenty
Tiffany kept her gaze on the streets as they wound between strip malls and quiet suburbs. They stopped at a pedestrian crossing for a family on bicycles. Mom, Dad, and their two kids happily pedaled down the road.
“Are we there yet?” Dakota took off his headphones. He straightened in his seat and looked around him. His mouth tightened in a grim line.
“Almost,” said Thomas.
Almost there. Almost at the store where Luke worked. Almost with Luke. Tiffany’s belly twisted inside out. Best case scenario, Luke wouldn’t be too pissed to see her. They all got worse from there, so she stopped thinking about his reaction and looked at the small dot that was them moving across the GPS map.
They arrived at the store that screamed “boys and their toys.” Massive TV screens rolled image after image of men throwing themselves over cliffs, under towering walls of water, down ravines, and up fortresses of rock. All of the men wore neon and little more than a cool headband.
“Help you?” A young guy shuffled toward them, long hair and tattoos, with the sort of stringy shape you got from hours spent sweating up and down mountains under the Utah sun. A chin lift in Thomas’s direction said she’d obviously been identified as the least likely buyer.
“Yeah.” Thomas looked up from the mountain bike he was admiring. He’d look at some lucky girl the same way some day. “Cool bike,” he said. Then he seemed to remember what they were doing there. “Actually, we’re looking for Luke.”
“Luke?” The shaggy-haired salesman shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. Those shorts would hit the ground if he kept putting pressure on the pockets like that. They seemed to be barely saying hello to his hip bones. “He’s not here right now. Can I help you with anything?”
Her head spun for a moment. Momentary reprieve. She got a mental hold of herself. There would be no wussing out now, when she’d come all this way.
“Is this a hardtail?” Thomas wanted to talk bikes? Tiffany stared at the side of his head.
Dakota slouched over and ran reverent fingers over the bike’s handles.
“No, dude.” The salesman’s scraggly beard parted to show perfectly white teeth. “This is way, way more than that. Check this out.” As one, they crouched to stare at the frame of the bike. “This is a new feature Specialized are putting on their bikes. Totally righteous, man. This little baby is going to give you the sweetest ride.”
And they were off.
Toward the back of the store, another bike stretched over a sort of rack thingy as another long-haired outdoors type spun the wheels. She studied the other salesman. She really didn’t get the “pants on the ground” thing. What was the point in having half your underwear hanging out? In her opinion, one of the best parts of man watching was butts and thighs, and those hanging pants gave you nothing. Thomas wore his faded jeans low on the hip, but curved to the butt. Not tight, but not too loose and hiding his prime ass. His T-shirt of the day left her clueless—There’s no place like 127.0.0.1—but it rode up as he crouched and showed a strip of tanned waist. His thighs pulled the faded denim to straining point.
It would’ve been better if he’d never said that thing about wanting to sleep with her. Her head kept going back there. It must be her low-level hangover still making white noise in her head. She forced her gaze to some snowboarder on the screen carving up a vertical rock face with his board.
“So, he’ll be here tomorrow?” Thomas asked.
“Should be.” The salesman shrugged. “Today is riding day. So unless he lands his ass in hospital, Luke will be here tomorrow.”
“Cool.” Thomas nodded, casting another loving glance at the bike.
“You wanna take her for a sling?” The salesclerk recognized a brother when he saw one.
Thomas’s entire being lit up. “Can I?”
“Sure.” The guy unracked the bike with a practiced flick of the wrist. “Just give me your car keys and some ID.”
They all looked at her, Thomas with open pleading in his blue gaze. Would any woman be able to resist that look? “Go ahead.”
They hit the front of the store. Thomas threw his leg over the bike. The huge parking lot stretched behind the building. When they’d arrived, Tiffany had been glad they could get the trailer in without hassles. Now she saw the full reason for the large parking lot as Thomas stood on the pedals and shot across the empty space.
The salesman sidled up beside her. “That is not a Miura?”
And they thought their bicycles were cool. Tiffany turned to look at the salesman with a smile. “It sure is.”
“Righteous.” He breathed and headed for the car.
Thomas pulled tight turns at the other end of the parking lot.
Beats back in place, Dakota propped himself up on a cement bollard.
“Luke said he had one of these.” The salesman stared at the Miura like he’d had an epiphany.
“He did and he still does,” Tiffany said. It was going to be hard saying good-bye to her baby. Maybe Ryan was a little bit right about all of that after all. Her lip curled back from her teeth. Except she was mad at Ryan and didn’t want to think fair. What the hell kind of man turned down phone sex? And then went on to make such a big, stinking deal about it?
The salesman’s eyes grew wide as he turned back to her. “This is Luke’s?”
“Uh-huh.” Tiffany nodded. “I’ve been . . . looking after it for him for a little while. Now I’m bringing his best girl home.”
Luke had always called the Miura his best girl. He used to joke Tiffany was his second best girl. Her eyesight misted suddenly. They used to laugh a lot, she and Luke. She didn’t seem to laugh like that anymore. Until recently.
With a whir of wheels, Thomas cycled back to them. He looked like a kid, all ruffled hair and shining eyes as he slid his leg over the bike. Thomas could make her laugh, too.
“Hey,” the clerk called. “Cool shirt.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. Everyone seemed to get it but her.
“I don’t get it.” Dakota sniffed. She wanted to cheer, but could guess how that would go down.
Thomas looked down at his shirt. “127.0.0.1 is the address of your home computer.”
Okay, she got it.
He grinned at her, boyish and endearing.
Tiffany really tried not to smile. The T-shirt was amusing, but his grin would get anyone smiling.
“So, like, if that’s Luke’s car,” the salesman said, “I don’t know where he lives, but a lot of bikers end up at Prospectors bar after they ride. You could try to catch him there. He loved that car, man.”
“Yes, he did.” Tiffany blinked back the moisture. If Luke had loved that car only a tiny bit less, she might not have done what she did. She gave the Miura an apologetic pat on the door panel.
The salesman gave Thomas directions to the bar.
“Hey.” A strong hand curled around her waist. She leaned in as she looked up. Thomas’s eyes were kind, but not smiling anymore. “You okay?”
“Sure.” She managed a smile. His hand around her waist felt nice, like it fit there. She moved out of his light clasp. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I’m hungry,” Dakota said. As far as she could tell, it was the only time Dakota’s Beats came off.
“Sure you are,” Thomas said. “Why don’t we go back to the motel? We can off-load the trailer and head out and find something to eat.”
“Will it be safe?” Tiffany wasn’t sure about letting her girl out of her sight.
“Sure.” Thomas shrugged. “A car like that is way too easily traceable for anyone to risk stealing it. Besides, we’ll put it somewhere safe. Trust me.”