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"Grandma!" Jay exclaimed, a sheepish grin on his face. "This is for my Valentine's Day date with the contest winner from KHZY Radio."
"Date?" Wanda asked, perking up. Our grandmother had been married six times, and apparently never gave up on love.
I coughed the word "scheme" into my hand.
"Oh, lighten up, Gunnar," Wanda said. "Just because you hate love doesn't mean the rest of us do. Let Jay have a little fun!"
"Especially when it's for a radio show contest that's gone viral on social media," Jay said.
"Viral?" I asked, frowning. "I thought it was a local radio thing."
"Yep. But some influencer on TikTok noticed that the bachelors of Hazy Cove are sexy as hell, myself included, and the women of the internet went feral. The station got applications from all over the Pacific Northwest," Jay said. "Which means people from all over the Pacific Northwest are looking at the photo you took of me in front of the shop on that Softail Breakout. One of your best builds, and by far my best paint job. It's a marketing slam dunk."
"What about the girl, though?" Wanda asked. "She cute?"
"Doesn't even matter," Jay said.
Wanda turned on him, jabbing him in the chest with a bony finger. "Young man. You are not going to break some girl's heart to sell motorcycles."
"Nah. She's a med student or something, looking to cut loose."
"Still sounds like a disaster," I grumped.
Jay was still grinning. "Our website traffic is up by 500 percent. We've already gotten three new meetings."
"If it's already a success, couldn't you have taken this girl on a normal date?" I asked.
"No," Jay said, "I want photos for social media, and we have a follow-up interview on the radio. People will stream it from all over."
I snorted, hoping like hell that my brother was right about this woman's agenda. "Subtle."
"You know, if you decide you do like her, skip this tacky crap. What gets a woman's libido going is a long, hard ride on a custom-built chopper."
I hoped like hell that this was the last time I ever heard my 75-year-old grandmother talk about long, hard rides. But it probably wouldn't be.
"I'll think about that, Grandma."
"Besides, what happened to Luke?" Wanda asked.
"Still there. Still straight. Still not interested in me," Jay said, his face falling almost enough to make me feel a little bad for him. When my brother came out as pansexual, he'd said it meant he was attracted to all different types of people, but somehow his crushes all had one thing in common: they were unavailable.
Wanda stared at him long and hard, then brushed her hands together as if we'd settled the argument. "Jay, be nice to this girl— it's not all business. She's a person. Gunnar, you're coming with me. Gotta keep you from strangling your adorable little brother."
"Adorable?" I scoffed.
"We all know Jay's the cute one. After this, I'd better not see any more goddamn carnations in this shop. Our whole aesthetic is cool, not corny," Wanda said. "We have an image to keep up."
"No more flowers, I promise." Jay waved his hands in surrender.
"Okay," I sighed, knowing I couldn't argue with Wanda when she put her foot down. Jay nodded in agreement, then bustled over and started opening takeout containers. I turned back towards my grandmother. "Where do you want to ride to?"
She grinned. "I know the perfect place."
I grabbed my helmet and gloves and followed her back out the door. Our little coastal town had mild weather year round. Cool breezes off the Pacific meant it rarely got hot in the summer, and in the winter, it was still warm enough to ride, at least for those of us who owned the right gear and were accustomed to the weather.
She hopped on her trike. Hers was the first custom conversion I'd done five years ago, built from a Harley she'd loved like it was her own child. Wanda had been resistant to the idea of a trike at first, insisting she could still ride a motorcycle like everyone else, but her doctor told Jay and me he was worried about her sizeand strength when she was holding up her beast of a machine. It still had all the classic chopper styling that she loved, but it wouldn't fall over and crush her.
She started up her engine with a roar, and I climbed on my rebuilt classic Triumph and followed her up the winding cliff-side road that led up to the Oregon Coast Highway and out of town. She didn't drive for long, stopping at a roadside bar I knew well, and I groaned as I dropped my kickstand and climbed off the bike.
