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“Hi, I’m looking for Jesse,” a guy says.
Jesse turns around and behind him I see Kyle. My heart suddenly picks up its pace and I quickly stand up.
“I’m Jesse,” he says. “What do you need?”
Kyle sees me behind Jessie and says, “You work here?”
“Yeah. I do the office work.”
Kyle is all cleaned up today, wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt. He hasn’t shaved, but his hair isn’t the sweaty mess it was yesterday. It’s been styled neatly in place with some kind of product.
He’s really hot. And not farm-boy hot, which is all you really see around here. This guy is sophisticated hot. Even in jeans and a t-shirt, he looks sophisticated. Then again, anyone would look sophisticated standing next to Jesse, who always looks like a mess, even when he’s not at work. His clothes are always wrinkled. His shirt is always half tucked in, half hanging loose. He lets his jeans hang so low you can see his boxers.
“You two know each other?” Jesse asks.
“He’s my neighbor,” I explain. “He’s renting out Old Man Miller’s place.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jesse says. “You his nephew or something?”
“No.” Kyle looks at Jesse. “I’m here to see if you can fix a motorcycle.”
“Probably. What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know. It won’t start. You’ll have to take a look at it.”
Jesse meets him at the door, then turns back to me. “Think about it.”
I shake my head as the two of them leave. Jesse is so annoying. He refuses to take no for an answer.
Five minutes later, Jesse comes in again. “Can you get him in the computer?”
“Who?”
“The guy with the motorcycle. He’s pulling it in the garage. I told him to come in here when he’s done.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of it.” I set my phone down.
He goes to leave, then stops. “Shit, it’s your break, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I don’t mind.” I would if it were anyone else, but I don’t mind missing my break for Kyle. I thought about him all last night until I finally fell asleep.
Kyle appears in the doorway.
“Bike should be ready in a few days,” Jesse says to him. “Sage will give you a call when you can pick it up.”
“Great, thanks.”
When Jesse is finally gone, I say, “You can close the door, unless you want the waiting area to hear all your personal details.”
He closes it and comes over to sit down across from my desk. “What kind of details do you need?”
“Name, address, phone number. I’ll also need a payment method on file. Whatever credit card you want to use.”
“I’ll pay in cash,” he says.
“That’s fine but we still need to have a card on file to cover our costs in case you don’t show up to get your motorcycle.”
“If I don’t pick up my motorcycle, then you could sell it and recoup whatever costs were incurred.”
