Page 2 of Downward Dawg
Mad Dawg’s dream plan was to have a mechanic in the back some day. As things stood now, there would be plenty of room to put in a single bay, but if he expanded into the attached space, he could keep the shop in the existing area and use the second to build up a repair and service clientele. Given it was nearly fifty miles to the closest dealership with a reliable mechanic and nothing in between there and here, he figured he’d have a healthy business just from the area’s casual rider population.
But that was for tomorrow, which meant right now he needed to pay attention to the needs of his current customers. He’d just taken a step their direction when the bell over the door gave a brief jingle, the brrrrng yanking his attention to the front of the store.
Silhouetted in sunlight was a woman and at first glance he thought she might be nude. Then she took a step inside and he saw it was Elodie from next door, dressed in her neutral-colored yoga gear. The slim-fitting fabric molded to every delicious looking inch.
Feet moving on automatic towards her, his attention covertly wandered up and down her form. The mass of golden hair was pulled up in a bun that failed to control all of it, leaving tendrils to hang down in front of her ears and along her neck. Perky breasts were barely contained in a tight spaghetti strap shirt, and her nipples were on full display, hard little nubs pressed against the fabric making his mouth water. She wasn’t overly endowed, but he’d never been attracted to top-heavy women. Small enough to fit his hand was a preference and Elodie matched the description exquisitely. He knew from past association that her muscled ass filled out the leggings very well, and he loved how they stretched to fit around her strong thighs and calves. She’d slipped on a pair of flip-flops to come over, and they were a weird animal print, looking out of place against the matching theme of her outfit.
Her mouth was moving, a small smile peeking out along the corners, and he realized he’d come to a stop within touching distance of the woman, but hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
Clearing his throat, Mad Dawg felt foolish, but dove in with what he expected her concern was. Soon after he’d opened his shop, they’d had a couple of conversations and she’d gently indicated that peace and quiet was integral for her classes. With that in mind, he worried his earlier-than-usual customers might have disrupted things on her side of the thin wall.
“I wasn’t open. Promise.” He reached for her hand and halted the movement, letting his arm fall back to his side. That lack of contact burned, but it wasn’t the kind of friendship they had. “They didn’t know the hours.”
“Okaaay.” Now she was frowning around the smile still lurking on her lips. “Good to know. But I asked if you had a cup of coffee for me, too? It smelled so good when I came in, I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“Yes. Yup. Of course.” Mad Dawg turned on his heel and bulled his way past the racks to where the men had stepped away from the coffee maker. Which was empty. “In just a couple of minutes. Yep.” Working fast, he dumped the old filter in a trashcan and replaced it with new, then added water using a gallon jug left nearby for that purpose. Flipping the button to the on position, he murmured, “Coming right up.”
“Thanks.” There was a long pause as he turned around, surprised to find her standing close. “Mad Dawg.” Her smile broke free then, beaming his direction so brightly he found himself mirroring her expression.
“Uh, Elodie, these are some customers.” Mad Dawg gestured widely at the men standing close, watching the entire interaction with high interest. “Customers, this is Elodie. She owns the yoga studio next door.”
“Gentlemen,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “Those bikes out front sure are pretty. Nearly as pretty as Mad Dawg’s.”
“Thanks,” one of the men rumbled, inching closer to Elodie, his gaze fixed on her scarcely covered breasts.
Mad Dawg fought back a growl of irritation. She wasn’t flirting with them, and damned if he’d stand here and play witness to anyone getting the wrong idea.
He cast around for a topic, finally asking, “How’d your classes go this morning?”
The question pulled her attention back to him and Mad Dawg internally preened at the sudden disappointment on the other men’s faces.
Yeah, that’s right. I know things.
“Well, thanks. I felt like the sun salutation class really connected to the practice. I was pleased for them.” An expression of serenity drifted across her features and Mad Dawg felt the ache in his shoulders lessen as he relaxed a little.
“Not surprised with you leading it,” he complimented her. “You’ve got the touch when it comes to making people feel better.”
Stop. Talking. Jesus Christ on a stick, you idiot.
The gurgle of the coffee maker saved him, and Mad Dawg wheeled around, giving Elodie his back. Several of the men in the store were still gathered in a semicircle around them, eyeballing him as if they’d encountered an alien lifeform.
“Did you come in solely for the coffee, or is there anything else I can help you with?” He controlled the snarl that threatened to lift his lip, but only just barely.
“Gloves.”
“Balaclava.”
“Jacket options for the old lady.”
“Turn signal covers.”
The answers came rapid-fire, and the men spread out through the store as if he’d taken a broom to their asses.
“Let me know if I can help,” he called after them, plucking a clean mug from the stack and filling it three-quarters of the way. Then he added two spoonsful of sugar and topped it off with a squirt of milk he took from the dorm-sized fridge under the table. Turning back to Elodie, he held the prepared cup out to her. He was unprepared for her reaction, because instead of a “thank you,” he got peals of laughter. The intoxicatingly musical sound rolled from her, and he stared, transfixed by the sight of her losing her composure. Then he looked at the mug he’d grabbed and groaned. “Just a sec.” He turned to make another cup, but she stopped him with a hand on his forearm. Her palm was hot against the skin bared by his rolled-up sleeve, and he returned his gaze to her.
“I’ll take this one.” She fought a smile, the corners of her mouth twitching. “You got the coffee just right. How do you remember things like that? We’ve only shared coffee once before.”
Lifting the mug to her mouth for a drink, she stared at him over the rim, dancing eyes peering from right above the words that declared “Don’t be a cuntcake” with a picture of an iced cupcake covered with dick-shaped confetti.
