waist, stopping her short of stepping on his feet. Ignoring the heat seeping through the cotton of her shirt, Sadie muttered, “Knucklehead.”
“Hey—”
“The bike, not you,” she grumbled to Aiden, moving away from him.
Axle’s expression eased. “Yes, ma’am. 1940 EL 1000 Knucklehead, to be precise.”
Sadie smiled up at him. “I know my hogs.” She also knew a good diversion tactic when she saw one. Get a man talking about what he loved, and he’d forget he was ever upset. And while she was at it…
“By the way…” Sadie placed a hand on Aiden’s arm then nearly forgot what she was going to say. His skin was warm, muscle thicker than she remembered. She removed her hand. “Um. Everything’s a go. Aiden is one shrewd deal maker.” Aiden clenched his jaw and she gave him a sweet smile. “Midwest is officially your new parts supplier.”
“Great,” Axle said, not sounding as if he meant it. He sent a glance at the customer to his right. “Is that all?”
“Yes.” Sadie could take a hint. “I’m just…very excited.”
“Yippee,” Axle said flatly.
Sadie’s good mood faded the moment she set foot inside her cubicle at work. Perry Bradford hovered over her in-box, rifling through her papers. “Excuse me.”
“Excuse you?” Perry turned, his tie swinging with the motion. “All right. You’re excused.” He continued digging.
Sadie pushed past him, dumping her bag onto the desk. She’d used the last of her fury on Aiden and couldn’t call up enough to unleash on her moron coworker. “Can I help you?”
Perry abandoned his search, leaning on her desk and crossing his arms over his chest. “How should I answer that?”
Sadie sucked in a cleansing breath. Perry was a consummate flirt, but harmless, and under pain of death she may even admit he was kind of cute. He was also a hustler and a ruthless salesman. Perry had been number one in sales at MMS every year. Every. Single. Year.
Sadie couldn’t believe it when she’d come close to beating him last quarter. She’d kicked her productivity into high gear since then. Now,
“I signed Hawgs.” A smug smile stretched across Perry’s face. “You know Hawgs, right? Little garage south of Arbor Lane? Specializes in—”
“I know it,” she cut him off. “You know I know it; I tried to sign them myself.”
He winked at her, his cocksureness a bad mix with her own. Perry’s features were almost boyish, a quality that would keep him charming for years to come.
“I was looking for your proposal for the file. You know, the one they turned down.” He gave her an exaggerated pout.
“I guess I’ll have to dry my tears on this,” she said, producing Axle’s contract Aiden had signed under duress.
Perry frowned at the paper before snatching it from her hands. He muttered a curse. “You got them.”
“I did.”
“All five stores?”
“All five stores,” she repeated.
Perry pushed away from her desk and blinked as if absorbing the news. A second later, he nodded slowly, figuring it out. Unless he pulled some serious strings, or if Sadie didn’t work another day for the next month, the promotion and accolades typically befalling Perry would be hers.
“We’ll see, Sadie.” He turned his back on her, repeating as he stalked away, “We’ll see.”
Rather than gloat, she kept her comments to herself. What, really, was there to say? She’d worked hard and arrived at her goal with time to spare. She was getting what she wanted. What she deserved.
So why didn’t she feel like celebrating?
Chapter 3
Mike Downey flipped a burger on the grill, waving hello with the spatula as Aiden rounded the backyard. “Hey, son, how was work?”
“Good.”
“Axle’s a good guy.”
“How ’bout you?”
“Good,” Mike said noncommittally. “Well, ‘good’ might be overstating it. Marty pitched a fit today.”
Aiden’s biceps tensed. Marty Kincaid was a loudmouthed prick giving everyone headaches when he worked there briefly last year. Not that he’d expected the guy to change.
“You hungry?” Mike asked, flipping another burger.
“Yeah,” Aiden called over his shoulder as he stepped into the garage and dug a beer bottle out of the fridge. He twisted the cap and stood next to his father at the grill.
If Aiden thought too hard about the fact he was thirty-one and living at home, he might very well burst into tears. Last year Aiden had lost his business, then a chunk of money to his lecherous ex-wife and her pit bull lawyer, and then came the news about his mother.
The family had taken the news—that the doctor had given her three months left to live—hard. Kathy Downey had made her mind up after five years of battling cancer: she wasn’t going to get chemo. She’d found The Holistic Care Center in Oregon. The live-in healing resort had everything: acupuncture, meditation, herbal supplements, even a “thought doctor” who Aiden suspected was a quack. Aiden didn’t hesitate to move out there in his father’s stead, while Mike stayed in Ohio and worked all the overtime he could to afford the facility. When the money ran out, Aiden put his house and his prized collection of motorcycles up for sale.
Dad didn’t know until it was too late. Aiden knew his old man would sooner join a burlesque show in Vegas than ask his children for money, which is why Aiden had kept it from him.
Yet none of it had mattered.
Not the “healing mountains” of Oregon, the spring water, or the prayer—more than Aiden had ever prayed in his life. They’d lost her anyway. When Landon, his millionaire ad exec brother, found out Aiden had used his own money, he tried to send him a check. Aiden wouldn’t accept it. Even Shane’s insistence to contribute was met with stern refusal.
If Aiden had learned anything during those weeks at the care center with his mother, it was that they were each on their own path. At some point, there was only the option of going it alone. Mom’s path was to fight and fail. And Aiden’s was to give up everything to fund her ability to do just that.
Aiden rubbed his right side, where the tattoo he’d gotten to remember her sat etched into his skin, and shut his eyes against bad memories.
“Hey.” Mike shoved his shoulder and Aiden opened his eyes. “Don’t do that.” He turned back to the grill. “Life turns out this way sometimes. It’s not your fault your momma was sick.”
Mike never said
But the way his father handled his mother’s passing…it didn’t seem natural. Aiden had never once seen the man cry—not when Mom took her last breath, not at the funeral, not after. Mike’s solution was to move on. When someone asked how he was, he’d offer a bit of fortune cookie wisdom or share a platitude about God’s timing. And while it could very well be true, it wasn’t easy to hear.
Aiden was grateful to have Shane. Sure he was family, but he was also Aiden’s best friend, and Aiden
