“You sure you’re doing okay?” Gene cocked an eyebrow, still staring at him.
“Y-Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m good. Why?”
Gene smirked a little. “Well, you’re still holding on pretty tight there, Billy.”
Oh, damn! He yanked his arms back as his cheeks reddened and he slid off the bike, almost falling when his feet hit the ground. Once again, Gene saved him by reaching out and holding him steady.
“First time on a bike, your legs can feel a little shaky when you get off,” he explained, chuckling a little.
Billy just nodded and focused on regaining control over his limbs. He watched Gene climb off, of course looking like he was born on the damn thing, and scowled at his own clumsiness.
Gene reached his hand up toward Billy’s face and, startled, he jerked back. “What are you doing?” he hissed.
Gene dropped his hand to his side, the look in his eyes quickly changing. “I was just going to take off your helmet, but you can do it. Just set it on the seat and follow me inside.” His beautiful dark eyes shuttered, hiding his emotions, as he turned his back on Billy and headed toward the front door.
Embarrassed and angry with himself for his reaction, he did as Gene said. He knew he had hurt Gene’s feelings, so when they reached the front door, he reached over and put his hand on Gene’s upper arm.
“Hey.”
Gene turned to face him, his jaw tight.
“Look, I’m sorry. I-I…shit.” He paused and raked his hand through his hair. “Look, you’ve been nothing but nice to me and I am so wrapped up in my own worries that I…well, I didn’t mean to be an ass back there. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Billy looked up at him and made eye contact, holding his gaze for a moment.
A small smile tugged at the taller man’s lips and Billy found himself hoping that Gene would forgive him.
“No problem.” He reached over and clapped his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Hell, you just hit your head a little while ago. Putting you on a motorcycle probably wasn’t the smartest thing we could have done, huh?”
Billy laughed and shook his head. “No, probably not.”
Gene squeezed his shoulder and Billy tried to ignore the electricity that surged through his body, every cell thrilling at the energy this man’s touch provided. When Gene dropped his hand, Billy instantly missed his touch.
He followed Gene inside as he reached over and flipped the switch, flooding the room with light. Billy was surprised at how fresh and clean everything looked. An old wooden counter, polished until it gleamed, ran half the length of the room, with a cash register at one end. Bottles and tubes of various items decorated the shelves behind it. Metal chairs, upholstered in blue and green, lined two walls, and a small table sat before them, filled with magazines and newspapers.
Signs from countless automobile companies covered the pale blue walls. A tall stack of tires in the corner accompanied a small sign announcing a sale.
He looked down and smiled. Even the black-and-white tile floor was shiny.
“I’m impressed,” he said.
“What?”
“I think you could actually eat off these floors!” He laughed.
Gene’s cheeks reddened and he looked away. “Um, yeah, I like to keep it clean.”
“Well, you definitely do. This place is sparkling,” Billy gushed.
He turned back to Billy and smiled down at him. “I take pride in my shop. When my uncle died and I inherited the place, I know most people didn’t think I could keep it going, because I was only nineteenat the time. I spent the next few years proving them wrong. I guess you could say I’m a little competitive. Someone tells me I can’t do something, I immediately want to show that I can.” His broad shoulders shrugged with his admission and his voice trailed off at the end. “Sorry, I love what I do. I get carried away sometimes.”
Billy grinned. “No problem. I’m impressed. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four. Why?”
“Just wondering how long you’ve been running this place. I’m twenty-two and just graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in business, and now I have to go work for my father. It’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.” Billy lifted his eyes to Gene’s, searching for the judgment that always came when admitting he didn’t want to work with his own father. He knew people were jealous of him. Envious that he had a ready-made job to step into right after graduation, but God, it was a prison, in his mind. Instead of judgment, Gene’s eyes only showed interest, as if what he was saying was important. He wasn’t sure what to think of that.