7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Jake

Four out of five days a week, I spent working in an office. Instead of coveralls or jeans and a T-shirt, I wore suits. This had been the case the past three years, and I still felt like I was suffocating inside my clothes.

I didn't need a psychiatrist to analyze what that meant. If I didn't have my one day working in the shop, I'd lose my goddamn mind. Desks and meetings weren't my thing, but I wasn't the complaining kind. Besides, working alongside my brother wasn't bad.

Now, he belonged in a suit. He wore them like a second skin and carried the mantle of CEO like it weighed nothing. Jeremy had been made for this. Technically, it was in his blood.

Mine too, but nurture had beaten out nature in my case. Jer and I had grown up in different houses, me on a ranch in Wyoming, him in the heart of Denver. The beginning of our lives had been nothing alike, yet we'd both ended up in the same place, courtesy of Grandpa Hayes.

I slapped my hand on the frame of his office door. "Time."

He jumped in his seat, his eyes darting from his computer screen to me before dropping to his cell.

"Shit." He shoved his fingers into his hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I leaned against the frame. "This is me telling you. We need to head out in five."

"I need more than five minutes to prepare. I was working on—"

"Jeremy," I barked, snapping him out of the death spiral he was sending himself on. I didn't interrupt, he would sink into his neurosis, and this meeting would not happen.

"Yeah?"

"You're prepared. Overly so. Get your ass up, run a comb through your hair, splash some water on your face, and let's go." I held up my hand, spreading my fingers. "Five minutes."

"Five minutes," he repeated.

Jeremy was eight months older than me. We worked for the company our grandfather had started and left to us. Jer was the CEO, and I was his VP. Despite living apart, we'd been raised as brothers. Holidays, vacations, and summers had been spent together. By rights, we should have been a lot alike, but we couldn't have been more different. He was happiest when he was with his wife of two years, Anne, or commanding a boardroom. I'd never been married, and getting my hands dirty in a garage or outside filled me up.

Our differences had a lot to do with sharing half the same DNA. His mother, our dad's wife, was a nervous little woman, always fluttering and wringing her hands. Jer was her one and only kid, and, man, did she hover. My mother had been a free spirit from day one. She'd taken our dad to bed while he'd been passing through her town and ended up pregnant with me. I had three younger sisters from the man she'd married a few years later—a rancher who let her fly free.

Jeremy had inherited his mother's frail nerves and our father's business acumen. I was a lot lighter on the acumen, and my nerves were made of steel. This was why we worked well as a team. When he spiraled, I righted him. If the business had been left to me alone, I would have run it into the ground—more than likely on purpose to rid myself of a responsibility I did not want. Jeremy never faltered as the head. When he needed to pull his shit together, he did.

This was why I wasn't worried about today.

He strolled up to where I was waiting for him in the lobby of the Hayes building, loose and casual, proving me right. From the outside looking in, no one would ever guess the internal warfare he had going on. Jeremy Hayes put on a damn good show when it was time.

"All right?" I asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

"All set." He squared his jaw, scanning the wall of windows to the sidewalk beyond. "Car's here?"

"Car's here," I confirmed.

The ride to Rossi Motors wasn't long, but the silence stretched it out. Once Jeremy was in this mode, he did not like to be pulled out of it, no casual shooting the breeze for my brother. Not that he was much for it on a normal basis.

That left me with my thoughts, which inevitably turned to Clara—the same way they had since I'd had her pressed against her SUV last week. I didn't like to think about what had come after, where I'd been a jackhole and she'd rightly called me on it.

The feel of her downy skin under my lips and press of her tits against my chest was preferable to the way she'd dressed me down before driving off.

In hindsight, she hadn't been looking down on who she saw as a lowly mechanic. My past experiences had had me jumping to the wrong conclusion about a woman protecting herself.

I'd been thinking with my disappointed dick—and look where that had gotten me, with nothing and nowhere.

As a man who had most of my personal life locked down from outsiders, I got where Clara had been coming from. If what she'd said about not bringing men around her daughter was true, spending the evening with me had probably frazzled her. Hell, it'd affected me too. I didn't date, but even when I had in the past, women with kids had never been on my radar.

Having dinner with the two of them hadn't been a bad way to spend my evening, though.

I knew myself well enough to recognize that as the precise reason I'd ruined it.

Once we got through this meeting at Rossi, I'd send her an apology text—put a nice stamp on the end of what we'd shared over the last year so she wouldn't look back on those nights with regret.

The headquarters of Rossi Motors was impressive. Bikes I had dreams about on display. Classics, with chrome so shiny, it could have been mistaken for a mirror. Made me wonder if they'd ever been ridden. It'd be a damn shame if they hadn't.

Jeremy elbowed me. "I see you eye-fucking that machine."

"Can't help it. It's a beauty."

He shook his head. "You and your toys. If I get a call about your brain being splattered on the street, I'm going to be pissed."

"I think I'd have bigger fish to fry than your anger."

Needless to say, this was another of our differences. Jeremy had never had any desire to straddle a bike and take it on the open road while it pained me to go more than two weeks without riding mine. The winter months were close to torture.

We were shown up to the executive floor, where more Rossi machinery was on display like art on the walls. I didn't have the opportunity to look it over as Luca Rossi strode toward us, his hand outstretched. With him was a sturdy woman with silver hair wearing a fitted leather moto jacket atop a button-down and black dress pants.

"Welcome to Rossi. I'm Luca, and this is Sally Fink, our CFO." He took Jeremy's hand and clasped it like they were old friends before turning to me. "Jacob, right?"

"Everyone calls me Jake."

"Jake it is." He clapped my hand between his and offered a grin that looked sincere. I'd heard a lot about this guy, but only Jeremy had met him. From all accounts, Luca was forward-thinking and affable. He took his company's success seriously, but outside of that, he was laid back and quick with a joke.

So far, my impression was good, but we'd only just met. A lot of people looked good at first or even second glance. I was reserving judgment.

While Jeremy and Sally exchanged greetings and small talk, Luca nodded toward the wall in front of us. "I noticed you were checking out our art."

"I was. I've never seen a bike sliced down the middle and mounted on a wall."

He chuckled. "We're all a little obsessed with our product around here. There aren't many employees who don't ride. How about you?"

"I do."

"Yeah?" He faced me, tucking his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "What do you ride?"

If this was a test, I was confident I'd pass it. Economics and budgets weren't my thing, but I could run laps around anyone when it came to my knowledge of motorcycles and cars. I had curated a small but impressive collection of each.

"I have a Rossi Streamer for touring and a 1974 M50 Road Knight for special occasions."

His brows show up. "No kidding? My grandfather passed on his '73 Road Knight to my dad."

"Tell me he takes it out." Luca shook his head, and I felt his denial like a physical pain. "Does he at least allow you to take it out?"

"No. Sadly, it's sitting under a tarp. He's holding on to it for sentimental reasons, but I'm close to convincing him to give it to me." He pulled a pewter key chain from his pocket and twirled it on his index finger. "Close as I've gotten to it in a while."

He stopped the twirling to hold it out to me. A replica of an M50 Road Knight was parked on Luca's palm. The details were impressive, down to the exact shape of the tailpipe.

"Given to me by my wife," he added.

"Nice wife."

His grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. "No doubt about that. Are you married?"

"No. Marriage isn't something I'm looking for right now."

"You're young. You have time."

That made me laugh. "Unless you've had a killer face-lift, I suspect we're about the same age."

"Thirty-three. As you can see, I was a child bride."

Shit. I barked a laugh before I could stop myself, and a sharp look from Jeremy had me biting it back. This guy was funny, though. Not like any CEO I'd spent time around.

"I'm thirty, so I guess that makes me a toddler."

He finger gunned me. "Exactly." Then he checked the time on his wide-face watch. I recognized it from the Rossi-Rolex collection when they'd partnered five years ago. It was a beauty, but my hands stayed under the hood too much to be a watch guy. Looking at it on Luca, I questioned that decision. "Meeting time. We don't get in there, my sister will come hunting, and we don't want to piss her off."

Since Luca struck me as someone like me—who wouldn't keep to a schedule if it had been up to him—it made sense his sibling counterpart was more like Jeremy. I racked my mind for the COO's name. Surely that information had been in the dossier Jeremy had given me. I'd read it. Absorbed a lot of it. But not that.

I held out my hand. "Lead the way."

There were several people milling around the conference room. A good balance of men and women. Luca and Sally guided us to the front of the room, where Jeremy would be presenting our offer of partnership. My role was moral support, as well as answering questions about the operational side of the business.

As I pulled my chair out, I looked up, my gaze catching on the back of a woman in a fitted navy-blue dress.

This time, I wasn't fooled into thinking I was seeing a look-alike.

Before I could make sense of why she'd be here, Luca tapped her on the shoulder. "Clara, I'd like you to meet Jeremy and Jake Hayes."

She spun, a practiced smile on her plump lips, focusing on Jeremy. When her gaze swung to me, her smile slipped, replaced by a look of complete confusion that had to mirror mine.

"Jake?" she uttered breathlessly. Her lips rolled over her teeth as soon as my name was out, but it was too late.

From my periphery, Luca's head swung back and forth. "You've met my sister?"

Clara Rossi.

What a fuckin' time for the name of Rossi Motors' COO to emerge from the abyss of my memories. Would it have made a difference? I wouldn't have associated my Clara with an executive—

No. Not my Clara.

This was the last place I would have expected to run into Clara. She belonged at The Tavern, with her wild hair and leather pants clinging to every one of her soft curves. More recently, she belonged in her fancy SUV and pretty, starched dress with her cute little girl holding her hand—not at the head of the company my brother had deemed necessary for ours to continue to grow. Yet, here she was, looking right at home.

She recovered before I did. "Yes. Remember when I told you about my brake lights going out? Jake was the mechanic who so kindly stayed late to fix them. But I suspect Jake is a lot more than a mechanic."

Jeremy laughed tightly. "My brother likes to make sure his hands don't get too clean. He works somewhat undercover in a Motor Zone garage once a week. It helps him keep his finger on the pulse of things."

"Interesting." Luca nodded. "While I like the idea, I don't think they'll let me work at the factory. I'll just stick to riding our product."

"Quality control," Sally Fink deadpanned.

"That's right. If I don't make sure the new Triumph model runs as smooth as last year's, who will?" Luca smirked at his CFO, who shook her head, a wry smile threatening to break out on her serious face.

I raised a brow at Clara. "Your lights still good?"

She straightened her spine and raised her chin, washing away her previous confusion.

"I haven't been pulled over again, so I think so." She offered the stiffest smile she could. "Thanks for saving the day."

"Yes, thank you, Jake," Luca added. "I appreciate you going out of your way to help Clara."

I nodded. "Not a big deal. If I hadn't been there, I suspect she and Nellie could have charmed one of the other guys to do it."

Luca brightened visibly, almost bouncing on his toes. "That's right, you got to meet my niece. She has a way about her, doesn't she?"

"Cute kid," I agreed.

Jeremy sidled up next to me. "Family is important to Jake and me. Motor Zone has always been a family business, like Rossi."

Oh, Jeremy. While he was a good schmoozer, small talk didn't come naturally to him. Like now, he often steered the topic to work when it should have landed there organically. The excitement quickly drained from Luca, and Clara looked away, clearing her throat.

"That's right. We should talk about why we're all here." Luca swept a hand toward the front of the room. "Why don't we all sit down so Jeremy and Jake can do their thing?"

Clara took a seat between Luca and Sally, leaving no chance for me to sit beside her, and kept her eyes glued to her tablet. I felt like an asshole, getting frustrated over not having her attention when it wasn't the time or place, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. She looked good in another of her starched little dresses. Had me wondering if she always wore dresses to work.

Jeremy turned on the screen displaying his PowerPoint presentation. He loved making these. He'd made one when he was twelve and had wanted a higher allowance. He'd also used a PowerPoint to present to our father why he should have gone to Princeton instead of Columbia.

He'd gone to Columbia.

It was our father's alma mater, and no matter how convincing Jeremy's slides were, his college had always been a foregone conclusion.

A map of the US glowed on the screen, red dots scattered across the country.

Jeremy explained what he was showing us. "There are six hundred and six Rossi dealerships in the US. Of those, five hundred and sixty have on-site mechanics for repairs and service."

He flipped to the next map, which was superimposed on top of the first.

"The black dots on this map are Motor Zones. Currently, we have six thousand seven hundred eighty-two open in the US."

The following slide zoomed into the central US, where there were far more black dots than red.

"We noticed a dearth of dealerships in parts of the country where there are multiple Motor Zones, and it got us thinking, how can we both use that fact to our advantage?"

The next slide described a partnership between Motor Zone and Rossi. My gaze flicked to Clara, who had her head down, still tapping away on her tablet. In fact, she hadn't looked up the entire time Jer had been presenting.

All the work he and his team had done, the least she could've done was look up.

Jeremy went on and laid out his plan. Motor Zones would become an official partner to Rossi, and we'd carry certain genuine Rossi parts and accessories. In areas where there were no Rossi dealerships for more than a hundred miles, our service bay would offer express services, like oil changes, brake servicing, and tire replacement. Our mechanics would receive the same training as Rossi mechanics, and we would have access to proprietary Rossi tools.

When he started going over the money, Clara finally looked up, her eyes narrowed. I blamed her wariness on Jeremy using Rossi earnings as part of his presentation. He wasn't treading as lightly as I would have at an initial meeting, but then, he wouldn't have been Jeremy if he had.

When he came to the end, he looked around the room with a slight smile. "That's all I have for now. Does anyone have any questions?"

Clara wagged her stylus. "I do. I have some questions for Jake."

Her eyes landed on me. There was nothing flirtatious or coy behind her gaze. This was business Clara, who didn't blush or back down. Hard ass women didn't do much for me, but this one…knowing there was a sweet, molten core beneath it all…

Yeah, she did a whole lot.

I rubbed my hands together. "I'm ready. Bring it."