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I pull a breath through my nose, and I definitely don’t look at her legs. “Fine. Give it a try.”
“Here?” She blinks, her long dark lashes fanning.
“Yes, that’s why the center of the room is cleared—or go outside.” I wave a hand and purposely don’t look in her direction at all. “Either way.”
“You aren’t afraid I’ll just run off with it?”
There’s no choice. I bring my eyes up to hers, wide and bright with question. “Well, I am now.”
“Oh.” She holds up her hands. “I won’t.”
“Wonderful. Now that that’s settled. Take her for a spin.” I charge to the small checkout counter in the corner of the room and pull out my last sales receipt. I still need to type the customer’s name and information into my database.
I’ll do that while she tries out the Retrospec. It’s a nice city bike. Maybe this will be quick and Meredith The-Coffee-Spitter Porter can be on her way.
“What about a helmet?” she asks.
I glance up to see her almost frowning. I wasn’t sure she could frown. She scratches her head and stares down at the bike.
“Or… knee pads?”
Knee pads? Is this girl for real?
“You aren’t seven. I don’t have knee pads.” I so badly want to roll my eyes—like my seven-year-old niece Alice would. Not even Alice needs knee pads. “Just give her a spin. See if she feels right.”
“A spin?” Meredith says. “Sure.” She nods, her white gleaming smile is back, it’s determined. At least I think that’s determination. Maybe she plans to murder me later. “I’ll just give her a spin… right here.” Cautiously she steps over the top tube and sets her bottom on the seat. “I like that you call ither.”
“Excuse me?”
“The bike,” she says, not riding, not giving anything a try. Just sitting. “You called ither. I think that’s nice.”
“Oh.” My forehead wrinkles. “Right.”
“So, I’ll just…” she looks at me as if this is a quiz and I have all the answers, “give her a spin?”
“I recommend riding it before purchasing.”
This girl is like a train wreck. I can’t look away. First, she spills her coffee all over me, and now she’s playing tag with a bike pedal. Left foot on, then off. On, then off. All while her right stays firmly on the ground.
“What are you doing?”
She stares down at her feet, her dress sliding up, showing off her sun-kissed knee. “Just, um, getting… getting the feel. Isn’t that what you said?”
I slap the Winter’s paperwork onto the counter and charge over. “I just said to take it for a spin. Get a feel for the bike. But you have to ride the thing to accomplish that.”
“Yes.” She says in agreement, but her foot is still playing games.
Gently, I set my hand on top of Meredith’s, holding to the left handlebar. “Stop moving your foot.”
“Right,” she says, setting her left foot back to the ground.
Her skin is soft and smooth and the feel of her seems to send motion, spinning bicycle wheels, right into my gut. I should have eaten. Between lack of food, worrying over my mother, and frustration with this girl, my stomach is giving me fits.
She lifts her head to look at me, and a soft breeze of coconut sweetness fills my senses. More swirling erupts in my belly.
“Are you ready?”
Meredith lowers her brows and peers outward in a resolute stare. “Yes. Ready.”
