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“Lucas Pine?” Hector’s lip curls into a sneer. “Sounds like ajackass.”
“Lucas Pineisa jackass name, isn’t it?” My voice is way louder than it should be for talking shit about a stranger, but professionalism is out the window today. “I hate him already.”
“As you should.” Hector nods emphatically. “I’ll hate him in solidarity.” That brings a little smile to my face. He takes the last sip of his cold brew, and I get to work making him another. His presence is the only thing besides staying busy that’s keeping me from spiraling out of control, although his next question has the opposite effect. “So, do you have any ideas yet on what’s next?”
My mind whirls. The shock of losing this place hasn’t begun to wear off in the twenty minutes since I found out. “I have no idea.” My voice slips out, lacking its usual power. “Station 19 has always been my only plan. I’ve never had a backup.”Holy fuck. I don’t have a backup.
Hector rushes to reassure me. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to have a solution yet. You have plenty of time.” I wish I could believe him. Six months is hardly enough time to find the kind of solution this massive problem will need.
I know it’s not unheard of to relocate a business, especially if you’re renting space. But I cannot imagineTurbineanywhere other than Station 19. It belongs here.Fuck whoever Lucas Pine is for taking it away from me.
Six years ago, when I found this building, it was love at first sight. The mid-century icon oozes character and is generally cool as hell. It was a gas station in the 1950s, and the exterior still has most of its original details, including the old gas pumps on the patio. There’s even an oversized triangular awning out front, in true mid-mod fashion.
This place is more of a home to me than anywhere I’ve ever lived. The community is my family andTurbineneeds to stayput for them as much as it does for me. I can’t relocate it.I just can’t.I turn to my friend where he sits at the counter. “There has to be a way out of this, right?”
A boyish smile of bright white teeth takes over Hector’s face, making him look younger than his sixty-something years. “Of course, there’s a way.” He’s confident I’ll figure this out, so that makes one of us.
I pop the lid onto his fresh cold brew and slide it over to him. He tries to pay me, but I insist it’s on the house since he’s being a sounding board for me while I process my life falling apart. “Seriously, it’s on me. Go enjoy your coffee with Brian. I’ll let you know if the jackass shows up.”
Hector reassures me one more time before going back to sit with Brian in their spot by the front windows.
The oversized mid-mod starburst clock on the wall tells me I have five more hours before I can go home and get drunk about this. Closing my eyes, I take a few more deep breaths and start pulling affirmations out of my ass.This shit happens all the time. Not to me, but to someone, I’m sure. This is going to be okay. Turbine is going to be okay. I am going to be okay. Every problem has a solution. I can find this solution. I will find this solution.
One more deep breath, and I open my eyes to find a man waiting at the register. And not just any man, an unreasonably good-looking man who’s watching me with focus that borders on scandalous, sending a blush straight to my cheeks. He’s all broad shoulders and sharp lines, holding a motorcycle helmet under one bulging muscular arm. Like,whew. I have to crane my neck to take him all in.
He wears a faded navy collared shirt, the canvas kind mechanics wear, worn jeans, and work boots. Tousled black hair falls over his forehead in a few places, but it’s not quite longenough to obstruct the view of his big brown eyes or the envy-inducing lashes that frame them.If I had those, I wouldn’t be spending forty-five minutes and too many dollars twice a month to get lash extensions.His face is framed by thick, stern brows and a perfectly square jaw that’s covered with a closely trimmed beard, making the smirk pulling at his lips the only soft thing about him.
Oh god. How long was I taking deep breaths with my eyes closed and he was just standing there watching me?
Hector’s voice carries over from the front of the restaurant. “So, this jackass named Lucas Pine swoops in and steals Allie’s dream!” Love him for having my back, even if it is a little awkward that everyone else heard him too, including this gorgeous man. This gorgeous man who I am fully staring at.Shit.
Resisting the urge to ask him to come back to my place and help me get over my rough day, I ask, “Can I help you?”
He stares at me, unmoving, playful smirk gone.Where did it go? I miss it.
I try again. “How’s your day going?”
Raising his eyebrows, he says, “It’s been interesting.”
Stifling an embarrassed laugh, I give him a little shrug. “It’s been a hell of a morning,” I offer.How long has he been here?He couldn’t have heard my conversation with Hector. I would have seen him. Right?Shit.“What would you like?” I ask, unsure how to lift the awkwardness.
He doesn’t respond immediately, setting his helmet on the counter before squaring his shoulders and sliding his hands into his front pockets. His forearms flex, anddamn, what a set of forearms they are. Firm, sinewy muscles define every inch of skin, sun-tanned quite a few shades deeper than the light-olive complexion of his face. He looks so at easethat the awkwardness must be all on my side.Awesome. “You were going to buy this building?” he asks. So hedidhear my conversation with Hector.Also, awesome.
Not really his business, but I humor him so I can keep enjoying the view. “That was the plan.” I gesture to the skeleton of a gift shop on the other side of the glass wall. “Mel next door always said he’d sell it to me as soon as he was ready to retire. But he must have changed his mind because he sold it to some jackass named Lucas Pine and didn’t tell me about it until the deal was already done.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, his expression tight, while he considers my answer. His hands remain in his pockets as he lifts his chin toward the gift shop. “What were you going to do with that side?”
“My friend is an interior designer. Her office should be going over there.” The man doesn’t respond, only stares through the window briefly before focusing his intense gaze back on me.So, why’d you ask?I try again to see what he wants. “Can I get you something to drink?”
He looks up at the menu behind me, considering it before asking, “Doesn’t that seem like an odd use of space for an old gas station?”
Okay, rude. Usually, I’m all for chatting with customers, but he keeps prying at the exact thing I don’t want to talk about. “Can I get you something?”
He ignores my question again, pulling one broad hand out of his pocket and pointing toward the windowed wall. “And the windows?” I wish Devon were here so she could level him with a proper glare. But she’s not, so my wimpy glare will have to do.Damn my round cheeks and giant Bambi eyes.
“Whataboutthe windows?” I ask him, lacing my voice with irritation, before I drop down to the bakery case to consolidatethe pastries onto fewer trays.
He eyes me through the curved glass but doesn’t speak until I’m standing in front of him again. “Do your customers want to watch interior designers all day?” The smirk from earlier returns, looking cocky this time instead of playful. “People sitting at computers, sifting through floorplans?”
