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When he got to the workshop, he switched off the engine, dismounted and wheeled the bike inside to the back of the shop, where he parked it up safely out of view from the street. It wasn’t a salubrious area and George often warned Rory to be cautious and keep his eyes peeled.
George was on a phone call, chortling heavily over a badly picked parts order.
Rory was glad of it. His thoughts were clouded and George liked to chat on a morning. He wasn’t ready. He was still trying to process what had happened the night before. Sky. Laying there with her in his arms while the sky lightened had been too good. She’d dozed for a while, so he allowed himself to enjoy the closeness, even while his brain kicked into gear and told him to get the hell out of there.
He thought about slipping away and leaving her sleeping, but she stirred on the futon mattress while he dressed. Not wanting to abandon her, he kissed her awake and asked her what time she was working her shift. She’d purred like a contented kitten, looping her arms around his neck and smiling up at him. Staying would have been too easy.
He’d promised to be there at the Coffee Hut to meet her when she was done. Why? So he’d slept with her. She’d given him her gift, and he’d wanted it and savored it. But now he had to get back to shucking off his past mistakes—namely cruising on computer hacking for his first year in London. He had to keep her out of it. Shit could go down, and he wanted to protect Sky from it.
Picking up his tool box, he carried it over to the two bikes awaiting his attention. Strolling to the workbench, he leafed through the duty book to see which bike was being collected first. It was the BMW, and all it needed new spark plugs and an oil change which was good. The other bike was a Triumph Bonneville, and he could service that with his eyes shut.
While he went to work he tried to clear his head and concentrate, but all he could do was think of was Sky, and the way she’d looked when they had sex. Of all the women in all the world, he never thought she could look so vulnerable, that he would be afraid to let her go in case she shattered. Why the hell was that? It was some weird puzzle in his head, like making love with her had let loose crazy concerns for her ongoing safety. Or were those concerns always there and it was about him, they were bad for each other because of his illegal doings?
The wrench slipped from his hand and he swore loudly.
George had finished his call and wandered over, picked up the dropped wrench and passed it back to him. “You’re not having a good morning.”
“Thanks.” Rory returned to the task in hand but George stood by, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully as he watched on. “Sorry I was late.”
“It’s rare, so it doesn’t matter.” After a few moments he sat down on a stack of tires.
Rory knew what this meant. George wanted to talk. Glancing sideways, Rory looked up from where he squatted by the bike. “Did you get the parts mix up sorted?”
George nodded. “I swear Maggie gets it wrong on purpose so I have to call her.”
Rory smiled. “I wondered about it. Last time I answered she only wanted to speak to the boss.”
George chortled. He was a widower but he had a reputation for drawing the ladies. A hog driver, he also looked the part, with long white hair tied with a leather strap at his nape, his beard and moustache also long and groomed. His trademark outfit was sleeveless leather jacket, checkered shirt and blue jeans. Rory had only once seen him in a suit, when he was going to a friend’s funeral. Even then he’d looked like a biker, with a bootlace at his neck instead of a regular tie.
“Have you had breakfast?” George asked.
Rory shook his head.
“Thought not.” He pulled a bank note from his top pocket. “My treat. Pick us up some hot bacon sandwiches and fancy coffees from the café. Take a break.”
Rory took the note and headed off. On the other side of the street a tradesman’s café served hot, cheap food. He hadn’t even thought about breakfast. Usually he threw some cereal in a bowl before he rode through the city.
The two women who ran the joint waved and the one on the counter quickly took his order. She was another of George’s groupies and they got good service. Minutes later, Rory was back at the workshop with the goods. The hot bacon and fresh bread smelled good. He hadn’t even realized he was hungry. In fact he was starving.
George clocked him coming back and pulled up the two worn leather car seats they used for taking time out and entertaining company.
Rory handed over the bag of food to share out.
“You’re quiet today,” George commented eventually, gesturing with his half eaten sandwich.
“Family stuff on my mind.”
“Is it your dad? Is he coming home?”
Rory shook his head. He’d told George his dad and Shelly were overseas. He’d never mentioned Sky, or her older sister Rowan. Not in a significant way, maybe in passing. “No, it’s not that.”
“Girl trouble?”
Rory was about to swig his coffee and paused, astonished. “What are you, Colombo?”
George grinned, exposing pearly whites and one gleaming gold cap. “Just a lucky guess.”
Rory had to laugh. Nevertheless, he felt the urge to get it off his chest. George was possibly the one person in the world he could talk to about personal stuff. When he was close with Draco and Sean it was lad’s stuff they discussed, not complicated stuff like this. “I have a stepsister, Sky. When we left Ireland my dad and I pitched up in a town called Cadogan on the North Wales coast. We were only breaking for the weekend, but dad met Shelly, and they got hitched. Suddenly we had a whole new family.”
