I nod.
And silence settles comfortably between us before I ask the question that's been bouncing around in my head.
“So...what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you do besides punching strangers?”
“I ownJameson Customs.”
“That’s that motorcycle shop?”
His eyebrows rise.
“You've heard of it?”
“I passed it last week.I think it’s by my house!”
He grins.
“Well, that's mine.”
“Very cool.So, what do you do?”
“I restore motorcycles.Build custom parts.Fabricate just about anything made of steel.”
“You make things with your hands.”
“I do.”
I smile.
“I like that.”
He ducks his head, almost embarrassed?And damn, that’s so attractive.
“I never went to college.”
The words come quietly.
Almost cautiously.
Like he's waiting for me to judge him.
I reach over and squeeze his hand.
“So?”
He looks up.
“So?”
“I almost failed out of college.”
“You did?”
“Twice.”
