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seven
As soon as Hobbs laid eyes on Tabitha, he no longer regretted Victor’s need to stop at the closest motorcycle shop to get a warmer pair of gloves for the ride home. “Triple M Classics is a classic bike shop,” Hobbs had said. “Doubt it has what you need.” He didn’t want any more delays. Once Hobbs had agreed to go to Omaha, Victor had stayed on a few days to rest up before riding back. By midweek, though, they were more than ready to stop bumping into each other in the kitchen. Victor’s Triumph was gassed up, tires full, everything checked over and ready to go. All he needed were the gloves.
Let’s just get to Omaha and get this over with, Hobbs thought. In truth, Hobbs also didn’t want to see Delaney Monroe this early in the morning. Ever since their first meeting at Semper Fit last spring, they’d rubbed each other the wrong way. Hobbs wasn’t afraid of tough women, but Delaney didn’t give in to his charms easily, which threw him off his game. He always felt a little awkward around her and that was not what he wanted to deal with right before a trip home. Victor had never been one to listen to what anyone else had to say, and he’d insisted they stop at Triple M, anyway.
Behind the counter, inside the inviting shop that smelled of engine oil and pine, was Tabitha. Hobbs had never seen her in anything other than gym clothes or that excellent Dorothy costume that showed off her lean, muscled legs. Today she wore faded blue jeans and an oversized Triple M Classics sweatshirt in a light gray color. Her dark hair was curly and free, like she’d made no attempt to straighten it, and it framed her youthful face. Hobbs knew she had just turned thirty but she looked more like twenty, if he pretended he didn’t know her. That was partly due to her slender build but also to her smooth, perfectly clear, warm skin and the innocence in her big, doe-y eyes. She had a customer at the counter, a large dude in a leather vest. Hobbs couldn’t hear anything Tabitha said—she had a voice that matched her eyes—but the guy’s side of the conversation was loud enough for the entire shop.
“You gotta bone up on your cycle knowledge if you’re going to sit behind this counter, little miss.” His tone was humorous, ribbing, but Tabitha’s face was etched with worry and fatigue, like she’d been through this scenario before. “People come in here and want to talk shop. You gotta know your shop.” The guy leaned forward on the counter, apparently attempting to flirt with her by showing her who was boss. Yeah, Hobbs thought.Thatalways went over well with women.
Tabitha let out a nervous-sounding laugh. “Let me get Delaney. She’s working in the back. She can talk all the shop you want and answer all your questions.” She gestured over her shoulder, toward a door that probably led to the back room. Hobbs had never been here. Not only did he not own a motorcycle, he certainly didn’t seek out Delaney Monroe outside gym hours.
“No need for that.” The guy edged a little closer, practically leaning his torso on the counter now. “I can teach you everything you need to know.” He caught her by the wrist as she turned to go.
Tabitha, mouth open, stammered. For the first time, Hobbs became aware that Trinity was in the store, because the dog started barking. Her black head popped up from behind the counter, her muzzle pointed at the man who’d grabbed her human.
Hobbs started toward the counter, a sudden, protective instinct taking over his body. It was a verydudereaction, one he didn’t normally have, but he wasn’t going to stop himself, either.
“Excuse me.” Victor stormed over to the pair before Hobbs could even get two steps. “Could you point out the gloves? I need some new gloves.” He slapped his old set of leathers down with afwap!This wasn’t an unusual sight, unless you knew Victor. Victor was the type of guy who went into a store and found what he needed on his own, avoiding sales help at all costs. A do-it-yourself type, often to a fault.
The big guy in the leather vest released Tabitha, straightened, then sized Victor up, maybe deciding who would come out a winner in a fight. Hobbs had the feeling the guy was rarely intimidated and usually said whatever he wanted. But Victor was tall, had huge quads, even in his blue jeans, and boulders for shoulders, even in his motorcycle jacket. His carriage was one of absolute fearlessness, something he’d cultivated over the years growing up with a violent drunk father, and the do-rag he wore over his ruffled curls made him look thuggish, even though Victor hadn’t been in trouble with the law in years.
Tabitha’s chest rose and fell rapidly, like she struggled for air. She took stock of Victor, anxiety visibly rising in her face. She pointed to the rows of merchandise off to the right of the store, like she couldn’t find her voice. Hobbs had seen her like this before; on the Fourth of July, some teenagers had shot off fireworks at the park near the gym and Tabitha’s reaction had been similar, though much more immediate and intense. She’d sunk to the floor and the pit bull had lain over her chest, like a doggy blanket.
“Can you show me where?” Victor spoke to Tabitha but stared straight into the face of the grabby customer. “I get lost easy.”
Tabitha was silent, appeared to waver on her feet. Hobbs rushed to her side and slid an arm around her waist. “Hey, Tabby. You okay?” He looked down and saw that Trinity was leaning on the other side of Tabitha’s legs. Last time, there’d been a loud noise and a pretty clear connection of what had sent Tabitha into a spiral. This trigger was less obvious, though the guy who’d grabbed her seemed the likely culprit.
Tabitha turned her face toward Hobbs, slowly. She blinked a few times. “Oh,” she said. She let out a big sigh. “Hey. It’s you.”
“Hey. It’s me.”
She pushed her hip harder against his and leaned in, not like she was flirting but like she was trying to melt into him. “I’ve never seen you in here. I didn’t know you rode a motorcycle.”
“Not in a long time.” Hobbs used to ride with Victor when they were teens, but they rode for different reasons. Victor had a passion for the things, loved the speed and agility. They were like mechanical cats, he used to say. Hobbs only rode to keep up with Victor. As soon as he was done trying to keep up with him, Hobbs stopped riding. After a long moment, Hobbs shifted away, making sure Tabitha was steady and on her feet. “Tabitha, this is my brother, Victor. He needs some warmer gloves for his ride back to Omaha.”
Tabitha looked from one to the other, assessing the familiarity. “I see it.” Her stupor was evaporating with the distraction. “You have the same hair color.” She touched her own. “The same waves, too.”
The grabby guy in the leather vest took this as his cue to get out while he was ahead. He collected his helmet from the countertop, along with a paper bag containing whatever he’d bought, and headed silently for the door.
“Don’t let it hit ya,” Victor barked. He never could leave well enough alone.
The dude paused in the doorway, but when Victor kept staring him down, he just walked out and didn’t look back.
“Thank you,” Tabitha said, once he was gone. She encircled her own wrist, like she was trying to wipe the guy off. “Why do men do that?” Her words were quiet, like she spoke to the universe and wasn’t really expecting an answer.
“Because they can,” Victor said. He never made excuses, for himself or anyone else. “I’m gonna go get those gloves.” He headed toward the shelves Tabitha had pointed at, his feet loud as he marched away.
Confusion clouded Tabitha’s face. “Should I help him?”
“Definitely not. Once, when we were teenagers, we had a grocery list from my mom. We couldn’t find the evaporated milk anywhere. Victor refused to ask, so we just kept wandering the aisles. I finally pretended like I was going to get chips and I asked an employee where it was. Vic was actually mad, when he found out. Said we had to do things on our own, no matter how small a task. That our evaporated milk was nobody’s damn business.”
Tabitha didn’t look nearly as appalled as Hobbs had expected. “That makes sense.”
“That makessense?” Hobbs smiled, despite himself. “No, it doesn’t, Tabby. It makes no sense at all. Don’t make excuses for him.” Hobbs watched his brother weave through the shelves, the aisles tiny, his big body knocking into things.
“It makes sense to him,” she said. “The important thing isn’t that he has to find his own milk. The important thing iswhy.” Tabitha studied Victor but didn’t move to help him. “Maybe you should ask him sometime.”
Hobbs had a funny feeling in his gut as he watched her, head cocked to the side while she puzzled over his brother, bumbling through the gloves. “Maybe,” he said. “I’m not sure I want to know. But I appreciate you trying.”
