Page 37 of Voyeur Café

A group of women who are in town for a bachelorette weekend have populated the row of white pedestal tables that line the glass wall, shamelessly watching the dark-haired, broad-shouldered, muscle-armed, motorcycle mechanic show next door.

“Good lord. I didn’t know we were getting coffee and a view,” a woman with red hair and a pinkI’m with the bridetank top says.

“It didn’t say anything about a viewing window into blue-collar sexiness when I looked this place up online,” the maid of honor, marked by her matching white-lettered, pink tank top and air ofI’m-the-plannerauthority, replies.

“Voyeur Motors, indeed,” a third woman drinking out of a flask I pretend I can’t see adds.

I’m tempted to draw the curtains and cut off their view, but when we had them closed before, customers complained. They missed seeing Betty.And probably also Luke.Plus, ever since he fixed my car, it doesn’t feel right to shut him out.

“Who has forearms like that? I can see the definition from here,” a bridesmaid adds, leaning forward on the table to get abetter look.

Luke has parts and pieces of something metal and mechanical laid out on a towel on his workbench, forearms flexing as he picks up each piece to polish them, or maybe file them? All I know is nothing on that table is a starter for a Corolla.

“Excuse me?” The maid of honor waves me over from where I stand behind the counter. “Would you take a photo of us?”

“I’d love to.” Sending tourists home with a memory that isn’t off center and blurry is such a special little joy. She hands me her phone and then arranges her group into a pose, making sure the bride is prominently featured in the middle.

“I can pull that curtain if you want,” I say. “It’ll make for a nicer photo background.”

“Oh no, we want him in the background,” the redhead says, pointing at Luke, and the rest of the group giggles in agreement.Has he noticed them fawning over him yet?

My height won’t allow for a good photo angle, so I climb up on a sea-foam green Eames chair to get a better shot. After I take a dozen photos with slight variations—making sure Luke is in the background—one woman smacks the window to get his attention, like she’s a child, and he’s a gorilla at the zoo.

The sound gets his attention, and he looks up from his work, brows narrowed, and lips flattened in irritation. I wonder if he’d be offended by aPlease don’t tap the glass. It disturbs the mechanicsign? I’m smiling to myself about the idea when his eyes catch mine. His face is stony, and he points to my feet, where I’m standing on the chair.

Some of the women try to get his attention, but his eyes stay on me. I hold up four fingers, trying to express that the chair has four legs, not just one like the table I fell off of, so I’m safe. He cocks his head slightly, probably confused, and continues to glare.

I hold my hands flat in front of my chest, palms parallel tothe ground, and swing them out straight to the sides, making thesafemotion from baseball. It’s not supposed to be funny, but immediately, his brows soften, and his lips curve into a smirking grin.

The same woman from before bangs on the glass again, gaining Luke’s attention for the briefest moment before he looks back to me. I shrug apologetically and pantomime that they want him in a photo, pointing at the phone, then at the bachelorette party, and then at him. He smiles at me, then disappears below the workbench and reappears, holding all sixty pounds of Betty as if she weighs no more than a grocery bag.

The bachelorette party makes a collective, “Aww,” and if I’m honest, I join in. Betty is too adorable for words. Luke settles her on to an empty space on the workbench, and she sits proudly at attention next to him. His gaze fixes back on me, even though there are ten other women staring at him through the window.

We take another round of pictures, this time with Luke and Betty proudly in the background. Again, a little like a zoo. His eyes stay locked on me the entire time, and I can’t fight the blush that spreads to my cheeks at his attention. I twinkle my fingers at him to let him know we’re done, but he keeps watching me until I’ve climbed safely off of the chair.

The redhead who first pointed Luke out leans on the glass wall next to me, tilting her head in Luke’s direction. “So, what’s his story? Is he single?”

The question catches me off guard. The only person I’ve seen next door who isn’t a customer is Cameron, and they’re definitely not dating. That doesn’t mean he isn’t datingsomeonelong-distance from wherever he moved from, though. The thought twists my stomach in a knot.Why do I care?He’s only the distressingly good-looking man who works next door, and I’ve just barely forgiven him for taking Station 19. After my lease isup at the end of July, he’ll be out of my life.

“I honestly don’t know,” I tell her as she watches me with hungry eyes.

“Oh, I thought maybe you two were…” she says waving her hand between me and Luke, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Where did she get that idea?I look through the window at Luke. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he immediately looks up from his workbench and smirks at me. My ears burn with embarrassment, and I turn back to redhead and glass-tapper.

“Nope. We just work next door to each other. I barely know him.”

“Oh, good! Can I get his number?” she asks.

“Um—I, um,” I stumble over my words.What the fuck? Why are they asking me?

“Oh my god, Aspen. You’re so rude,” another bridesmaid chides. “She can’t give us his number.” She grabs the redhead by the hand and pulls her out the front door ofTurbine. A second later, they’re insideVoyeur Motors.

Good, now they can talk to him, and I won’t have to be involved. They can get his number and meet up with him later tonight or something. That wouldn’t be an issue for me.Not at all.I move back behind the register and wipe down the already clean counter. It doesn’t matter what they’re talking about. It’s not my business.I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care.

I look through the window, but only to check if they’re being nice to Betty. I can’t see her, of course. There is a three-foot wall at the base of the windows, and she’s not that tall. But it looks like Luke is scratching her ears, based on the movement of his arms. He’s leaning back against his leather couch, and the two women are both giving him their best flirtatious looks. What are they saying?Why can’t I read lips?

Their conversation only lasts a couple of minutes, and as thewomen turn to leave, he faces me and waves.Dammit.How did he know I was watching?

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