Rough Hand (Rock Bridge Ruffians, Book One) Page 5

  “Meaning?” I quirk a brow.

  “Meaning that I can’t lose the job with you if…” that sexy flush comes to her cheeks again, “if something were to happen between us again and you decided to fire me for it. They won’t rehire me here, and I can’t risk going without money while I job hunt again. I…I need to have stability.” Her eyes look uncertain, vulnerable. I don’t know what she’s thinking about. Why she’s so adamant about this.

  There’s more to the story than I’m hearing, but I don’t want to delve too deeply into it. To do so might mean ripping open my own emotional scabs. There’s no fucking way I’m doing that. Not for her, not for anyone.

  “Of course,” I say smoothly. “As your boss, I’ll treat you as I’d treat my other employees—totally professional.” The words are coming out of my mouth, and I will myself to believe them. But the truth is, the feelings I have for her are very unprofessional.

  Still, maybe I can keep those feelings at bay and treat her as just another employee. I know that I have to be near her, to keep her close, regardless of what’s right and wrong.

  My words must convince her, because after a long, long moment, she gives me a curt nod. Sticks out her hand. “Okay.”

  I release a breath I hadn’t realize I was holding. Smile at her so widely that she finally gives in and smiles back.

  Alexa shakes her head and withdraws her hand. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a man who knows what he likes,” I say. I let my gaze drop to her cleavage, the flesh exposed and sexy, and God do I want to touch her again. Which is exactly the opposite of what I can do. Because she’s off limits. So I force myself to look her in the stunning eyes and try to act like they don’t impact me at all.

  I think I’ve just royally fucked myself.

  Three days.

  Three days of watching Alexa all over my shop, bending over, nibbling the ends of pencils between her sexy lips, playing with her silky hair.

  Three days of smelling her scent radiating in the room, despite the smell of metal and chrome and oil and grease that never seem to go away. Three days of her shy smiles, her soft skin glowing in the overhead light, her diligent efforts to connect with Tommy and Cade, to ask them intelligent questions about motorcycles, her lilting voice filling my ears and haunting me.

  She’s a damn hard worker, and she learns fast.

  She’s also torturing me slowly.

  I can’t touch her. I won’t touch her. I won’t let myself go down that road, because one time tasting her, making her come, was enough to drive me insane for the rest of my life. Any more than that…I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from devouring her.

  And she needs far more than I am capable of giving her. My walls are thick and high and they’re never coming down—that’s just a fact of life I’ve had to digest, and it makes a real relationship with Alexa impossible.

  I turn my attention back to the computer. Cade and Tommy are in the shop while I’m stuck here in the office doing bullshit paper-pusher crap, the stuff I hate most about being a business owner. My office has no door, because I wanted a straight shot to see the front desk in case I’m ever needed.

  Which means that every time Alexa moves around up front, the action catches my eye, and I can’t stop staring at her.

  What should have taken me an hour to process has taken me three fucking hours so far.

  Every time I look up from my work and catch a glimpse of her, I want her. I want to bend her over my desk and shove that skirt up and eat her pussy from behind. I want to hear what other sounds she makes in the heat of the moment. I want my cock thrusting into her wet depths.

  The door dings, and heavy steps come tromping into the main room. “Well, hello there, pretty lady!” a booming voice says. A voice I know. I feel my irritation spike instantly. Fuck, it’s Gregory Rothchild, one of the rich local residents who lives in the expensive part of town. The guy comes in here, like, once a month wanting me to make a custom chopper for him.

  Fucker won’t take no for an answer.

  “Hi, how can I help you?” Alexa asks in that sexy voice that’s like warm butter melting on a hot roll.

  “I’m guessing you’re new here. I’d remember a looker like you!” He gives a loud chortle, like he said something funny.

  I stand and make my way to the front desk. “Rothchild. Shocker to see you here.” I glance at my watch. “You’re an hour early, though. Feeling eager for rejection?”

  He thumps his palms on the desk and leans forward, a wide grin on his face. “Levi, my friend, I’m here to change your mind.”

  Alexa stands off to the side, quietly watching.

  I shake my head. “Nothing doing. You know where the door is.”

  She shoots me a surprised look. I know she doesn’t understand why I’m being such a dick. Gregory and I have history, though. He tried to have me arrested when I was a teen for B&E when I wasn’t even involved, just because I hung out with friends who were. Yet somehow he’s conveniently forgotten about that event. Now that I own a successful motorcycle shop, he stops by regularly, thinking he’s going to wear me down into building a custom ride for him.

  Fuck no. Not just for that reason, of course, but it’s a damn good one on its own.

  “Be reasonable,” Gregory says to me in a soothing tone, changing tactics. “I have no doubt you’re doing well, but me and my friends could help push your business to the next level. People listen to us. Pay attention to what we say and do. We could grease a lot of wheels for you.”

  I just give a bored eye roll. “I don’t need your help, and I don’t need your business. As I’ve told you the last few times you’ve been in here. I’m busy—go try another shop if you want a bike so badly.”

  Gregory just stares at me, like he’s mentally willing me to give in. Tension thickens between us.

  Alexa clears her throat. “Um. How about we contact you if anything changes, sir?” The suggestion is softly given, a sort of peace offering. I’m a touch irritated that she implies things could change, since I’m pretty sure the sun would have to fall from the sky first, but if it gets him out the door, then so be it. She’s just trying to do her job.

  Gregory musters a smile for her and procures a business card from his rich leather wallet. He flicks it toward her. “I look forward to hearing from you guys soon.” Then he turns and leaves, the door dinging behind him.

  Fucking presumptuous wanker. Irritation floods me. He can’t just buy me off, but guys like him never understand that. People like Gregory think the world owes them something.

  Fine, I’ll be a reminder to him that some things in life just can’t be bought. Like respect. Like credibility and artistry and true appreciation for the kind of work we do here. Gregory is a fake and I don’t make custom choppers for fakes and phonies.

  Alexa drops the card beside the keyboard on the desk. She clears her throat. “Um, so what was that all about?”

  “I built this business from scratch, despite all the struggles I went through to get it up and running,” I tell her, my voice a little harsher than it needs to be. “Then guys like that want to come in and make my hard work a toy for them to show off around town. Fuck that.” I cross my arms. “I work for genuine chopper enthusiasts. People who value my efforts. People who don’t just throw money around to get their way. That guy’s a dick. He’s been barging in here for months, leaning on me to cave, waving his wallet around like I give a shit about his bankroll.”

  She frowns. “I understand. That has to be frustrating. What do the others guys think?”

  I shrug. “Tommy thinks I should tell him once and for all to go fuck himself. Cade thinks we should take the job and charge him double.”

  That makes her laugh. “Yeah, I can see him saying that. He is pretty capitalistic from what I’ve seen so far.” Her smile makes some of the tension in my chest ease. “How did you all meet? Have they been here since the start?”

  “Cade has. He and I
grew up together and have known each other since kindergarten. Neither of us has siblings, so we’re pretty much brothers at this point. Tommy moved here about six years ago—I met him through a friend.” A funny memory from my childhood hits me, and I chuckle, leaning my hip against the side of the desk. “Cade and I got into some trouble—nothing too crazy, just stupid kid shit. Back then, we’d go through the rich neighborhoods at night and ding-dong ditch. One time, Cade got busted because he kept ringing one doorbell over and over, and an old woman ran out in her bra and panties, chasing him around her lawn. It was epic. We busted his balls forever about that.”

  She chortles. “That’s hilarious. I never got in trouble as a kid. Never cut school, never smoked—hell, I barely even cussed. I was pretty goody-goody, even more so than my sisters.” Her face gets soft as she reminisces. “My dad teased me about becoming a nun when I grew up.” A twinge of pain hits her eyes; I detect the exact moment her mood changes.

  I study her face, trying to understand what just happened here. The sadness that’s pouring from her now. I want to see that smile on her face again. “Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me that you were so good, Miss Innocent. I would have had fun trying to corrupt you if we’d gone to school together. We might even have ding-dong ditched your house.”

  Alexa swats my arm. “I bet you would have. And stop calling me that.” She draws her lower lip between her teeth, fighting back a small grin.

  “You’re right. You and I both know you’re not as innocent as you look.” I move away from the desk and stand in front of her. Our mouths are inches apart, and tension crackles between our two bodies. Every inch of my being is screaming at me to touch her, and it takes great effort to keep my hands at my sides.

  Her eyes darken and flare; she knows what I’m talking about. That night that remains unspoken between us.

  Keep away from her. She’s your employee. Nothing more.

  I pull away and put distance between us, so I can stay in control. Not give in to these base desires growing stronger every damn day. “So, how many sisters do you have?”

  “Two. They’re younger than me, both in high school.”

  “I bet you’ll be making trips to go visit them, then.”

  Something flashes across her face, like she’s weighing her words. “No, they’re actually here with me. I’m their guardian now.” Her body language is clear in how uncomfortable she is suddenly; our earlier moment of light humor is gone. She’s tense, a deep groove on her brow, her shoulders drawn up.

  I don’t want to pry. It’s her business. I recognize that pain in her eyes, the self-protective measures she’s taking right now to shore up her defenses.

  I recognize it because I’ve done it, too. I still do it. And I sure as fuck don’t want to start prying my own walls down and baring my soul in return.

  So I step back with a nod. I’m starting to understand why Alexa needed a job so desperately. Taking care of two teenagers can’t be easy.

  Makes me think about my own life, my own past. A heaviness settles over me and I feel my mood sinking into something black and bitter.

  “I’m going back in the office,” I say gruffly and move away from her. Drop into my chair and stare at the computer and try not to think about the slight shake in her voice when she was talking about her father. Not my business, I chant to myself.

  I close my eyes and am greeted with flashes of memories from my past.

  My stomach is churning.

  Bile rises in my throat.

  This feeling is why you stayed away, I tell myself. This is why you can’t get too close to her.

  Remember now?

  Yes, I reply. Yes, I remember now.

  Alexa

  I move around the sales floor, straightening items, taking note of what we’re running low on so Levi can reorder from our vendors. The shop has a pretty steady flow of customers—which shouldn’t surprise me, as I’ve come to realize there are a lot of bikers in this town.

  And it seems like Levi knows everyone. When customers come through the door, he usually comes out of the back or his office and gives them a pat on the shoulder, a handshake, a friendly smile, asking them how he can help. It’s intriguing, seeing this side of him. The first time I met him, he was rather surly and abrupt with me.

  But I’m getting the sense that’s not the real him, that I may have gotten a bad first impression. Levi genuinely cares about his customers, his friends, and it’s clear they love him. He has a strong sense of pride in his hard work—he’s the first person in the shop and the last to leave at night.

  He’s also close to Cade and Tommy. A lot of times, I can hear the three of them talking and laughing in the back, metal music playing as they work on whatever project they’re doing.

  I admit, I still don’t know a lot about bikes. It’s been just over three weeks of working here, and I’m trying like hell to educate myself as fast as I can. I was able to get internet for the house with my first check, and the girls were ecstatic about that—that also means I’ve been doing more research at home on my off hours to understand how motorcycles work, the different types of bikes out there, but it’s a lifetime worth of learning and I feel overwhelmed by the sheer scope.

  It’s a fascinating world I never would have imagined I’d be involved in.

  Last week, Levi not-so-gently suggested I stop dressing up in skirts and consider wearing jeans, instead. My first instinct was to think he was judging me for it. But the way I’ve seen his eyes roaming over me…maybe he finds it distracting to see me in skirts.

  The thought makes my body vibrate with need.

  True to his word, despite the heated looks I get every once in a while, Levi’s left me alone. Not touched me at all. And it’s killing me, because every day I’m around him, I find myself wanting a repeat performance of that night at the bar.

  And if he’s distracted by my skirts, I’m just as distracted by him in a plain white t-shirt. The chiseled muscles of his biceps, the way his tattoos twist and flex when he’s working on a motorcycle, the strength and dexterity of his hands.

  Knowing what those hands could do to me…

  It’s been so painfully long since I’ve had sex. Hell, him making me come was the first time in many months that wasn’t by my own hand. I’m craving that release again, despite knowing it’s a terrible idea.

  You don’t do that with your boss. He’s off limits now. Not that he was ever in my realm of possibility anyway.

  I type up my list of restock and tape it to the side of the front desk for me to enter into the system later. Tommy and Cade are in the back, chatting as they drink coffee. When I first started working here, the two men were very friendly with me, constantly popping up front to say hi and ask questions about me. I credit some of that to being the only girl in here, of course—I don’t quite think I’m either of their types.

  But a couple of days ago, I started noticing that neither one did that anymore. They give me polite smiles and waves, but that’s it. No coming from the back just to chat. No warm offers of coffee from the pot they keep in the corner.

  I can’t help but wonder, did I do something wrong? Accidentally say a dumb thing that offended them? I’ve tried waiting it out to see if they’ll bring it up, but it hasn’t happened yet.

  Straightening my spine and gathering my courage, I walk into the back, where the guys are now squatting around a bike, poking at the pedals and saying mechanical things that go right over my head.

  When they see me, they get quiet. I’m not imagining things. They’re really freezing me out.

  My heart gives a small, uneasy thud. “Hey. How’s it going?” I try my best to keep my voice level.

  Cade shrugs. “Fine.”

  Tommy won’t even look at me as he mumbles, “Just workin’.”

  I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath, then exhale. “Okay, guys. Did I do something wrong? Because I feel like things have changed between us, and I don’t understand why.”

  Neithe
r speaks for a moment. Then Cade stands and wipes his hands on his dirty jeans. Sighs. “We’re just keeping busy. Got a lot of work coming in and trying to keep from working overtime.”

  “Am I bugging you when I come talk to you?” An embarrassed flush covers my face and throat. Maybe they’re annoyed with me because I keep asking them questions while they’re working, and they don’t want to encourage conversation. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop interrupting you guys.”

  “Shit.” The two of them exchange knowing glances, as if I’ve been a topic of private discussion before.

  My stomach sinks.

  “It’s not like that.” Cade scrubs his hand across the back of his neck.

  Tommy shoots him a glare. “Best shut up, man.”

  A sick feeling hits my stomach, a twinge of understanding. “Shut up about what?” Somehow, I’m starting to suspect Levi’s involved in this.

  Cade rolls his eyes. “We were…asked to keep a safe and respectful distance from you, that’s all. We’re just doing as the boss man says.”

  “And now we really should be getting back to work,” Tommy adds with another meaningful look to him. “Got a lot of shit to do today.”

  I give them a stiff nod and leave. Go back into the main room and suck in slow, even breaths, trying to push back the wave of anger threatening to take over.

  Levi told them not to talk to me, to leave me alone? What the hell? How dare he presume anything? It’s not like they were coming on to me. I thought we were building up a friendship, a comradery.

  I mean, okay, the guys were a little flirty at times, but it was harmless. I wasn’t offended, and I don’t believe at all that they meant to make me uncomfortable. Had Levi heard us and assumed the worst?

  For a man who acts like he doesn’t give a shit about me sometimes, he sure is putting in a lot of effort on my behalf. Giving me this job to keep me from the pervs at the salon, and now this.

  I’m not an idiot. I can take care of myself.