greasy parts?
She lifted some kind of dial and ran her fingers over the smooth glass. “Once, Clara and I took my watch apart, trying to figure out how it worked. It was broken anyway, so we ripped it open and messed around with the tiny parts. Of course we couldn’t figure out how to put it back together—totally destroyed it—so then we dropped all the pieces back in, put the watch face on, and I wore it like that for a good month. Whenever people would ask me what time it was, I’d just show them my watch with all the parts floating around inside. They didn’t seem to think it was as funny as Clara and I did.”
Amusement flickered through Bryson’s features, and he gave her a lopsided smile. After making a fool of herself with her earlier breakdown, she was determined not to think about the news that Romeo and Juliet had become inseparable—and apparently Juliet didn’t hesitate to kiss.
So she focused on the point she was trying to make. “Anyway, I was thinking how cool it is that you know how to take the parts and actually put something together.”
“Watches are tricky,” Bryson said. “Lots of tiny parts that are hard to hold on to without the right tools.”
“But motorcycles are easy?” she asked, jerking her chin at the part in his hand.
“Not so much easy, but I’ve had a lot of practice. I do most of the maintenance repair on the machines we need to run the farm, and then I contract out jobs, mostly on dirt bikes, because they’re what I really like working on.”
“So do you have a…dirt bikes are motorcycles, right?”
He nodded. “I’ve got seven right now that I’m working on, but only three of them are mine. My Honda CRF450R is practically new. It’s only been in two races, but I’ve been putting titanium valves in to make it lighter. After that I might mess with the cam shafts.”
Was she supposed to follow all that lingo? It’d take her a week just to memorize the motorcycle’s name. “So, you race the bikes?”
“Used to. Before…” He looked down at his leg.
“Oh. Is that how you…?”
“Nope. But it made it to where I can’t race any more. Not even really ride.” He tightened the grip on the part in his hand and stepped past her. Obviously it wasn’t a subject he cared to discuss. Of course she wanted to push it further, wanted to know what had happened. But he’d been so nice to not bring up her drama again, so she decided to return the favor.
Plus, there was something about Bryson. The way he listened, his half smiles. He was still distant at times, and he always angled the scarred part of his face away from her, either on purpose or self-consciously. From the way he’d said girls weren’t much better, she got a feeling he’d been hurt before, too.
Over the phone, Clara had asked if he was cute and if she liked him. Of course she wasn’t thinking about that—she was swearing off guys. As they entered the office and he held the door open for her, though, she thought, Yep, he definitely is cute . The part of his face he didn’t keep hidden with his hair had a rugged handsomeness to it, and his dark blue eyes held secrets in their depths, which gave him that irresistible mysterious vibe.
It was a shame, really, that part of his face was marred by that scar. She wondered how he’d been without it. If he’d been more confident? Happier?
“What?” he asked, eyebrows lowered.
Oops. She was staring. “Nothing. I’m just…I’m glad you let me come.”
“Anytime.”
“You know, I might take you up on that.”
She got the lopsided smile again. “I hope you do.”
Chapter Eight
Through the door of the bathroom, Rosaline could hear Dafne giving the report to Mom and Dad.
“…helping me in the office, and she’s adjusting well.” There was a pause, then, “I’m not letting my guard down. I’m only saying that I think you—” She sighed. “Look, you sent her to me. Either trust my judgment or have her come back
She lifted some kind of dial and ran her fingers over the smooth glass. “Once, Clara and I took my watch apart, trying to figure out how it worked. It was broken anyway, so we ripped it open and messed around with the tiny parts. Of course we couldn’t figure out how to put it back together—totally destroyed it—so then we dropped all the pieces back in, put the watch face on, and I wore it like that for a good month. Whenever people would ask me what time it was, I’d just show them my watch with all the parts floating around inside. They didn’t seem to think it was as funny as Clara and I did.”
Amusement flickered through Bryson’s features, and he gave her a lopsided smile. After making a fool of herself with her earlier breakdown, she was determined not to think about the news that Romeo and Juliet had become inseparable—and apparently Juliet didn’t hesitate to kiss.
So she focused on the point she was trying to make. “Anyway, I was thinking how cool it is that you know how to take the parts and actually put something together.”
“Watches are tricky,” Bryson said. “Lots of tiny parts that are hard to hold on to without the right tools.”
“But motorcycles are easy?” she asked, jerking her chin at the part in his hand.
“Not so much easy, but I’ve had a lot of practice. I do most of the maintenance repair on the machines we need to run the farm, and then I contract out jobs, mostly on dirt bikes, because they’re what I really like working on.”
“So do you have a…dirt bikes are motorcycles, right?”
He nodded. “I’ve got seven right now that I’m working on, but only three of them are mine. My Honda CRF450R is practically new. It’s only been in two races, but I’ve been putting titanium valves in to make it lighter. After that I might mess with the cam shafts.”
Was she supposed to follow all that lingo? It’d take her a week just to memorize the motorcycle’s name. “So, you race the bikes?”
“Used to. Before…” He looked down at his leg.
“Oh. Is that how you…?”
“Nope. But it made it to where I can’t race any more. Not even really ride.” He tightened the grip on the part in his hand and stepped past her. Obviously it wasn’t a subject he cared to discuss. Of course she wanted to push it further, wanted to know what had happened. But he’d been so nice to not bring up her drama again, so she decided to return the favor.
Plus, there was something about Bryson. The way he listened, his half smiles. He was still distant at times, and he always angled the scarred part of his face away from her, either on purpose or self-consciously. From the way he’d said girls weren’t much better, she got a feeling he’d been hurt before, too.
Over the phone, Clara had asked if he was cute and if she liked him. Of course she wasn’t thinking about that—she was swearing off guys. As they entered the office and he held the door open for her, though, she thought, Yep, he definitely is cute . The part of his face he didn’t keep hidden with his hair had a rugged handsomeness to it, and his dark blue eyes held secrets in their depths, which gave him that irresistible mysterious vibe.
It was a shame, really, that part of his face was marred by that scar. She wondered how he’d been without it. If he’d been more confident? Happier?
“What?” he asked, eyebrows lowered.
Oops. She was staring. “Nothing. I’m just…I’m glad you let me come.”
“Anytime.”
“You know, I might take you up on that.”
She got the lopsided smile again. “I hope you do.”
Chapter Eight
Through the door of the bathroom, Rosaline could hear Dafne giving the report to Mom and Dad.
“…helping me in the office, and she’s adjusting well.” There was a pause, then, “I’m not letting my guard down. I’m only saying that I think you—” She sighed. “Look, you sent her to me. Either trust my judgment or have her come back
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