Welcome to Sugartown (2 page)

Sammy’s eyes
go wide as saucers and he vigorously nods his head.
“Okay.”

“
And I
thought I asked you to do your homework?”

“
You thaid
you wath gonna get me a milkthake when the dragon left, and the
dragonth been gone for a hundred yearth, already.”

“
If I get you
a milkshake will you please go and do some schoolwork?” He nods
enthusiastically and scurries back to his booth.

The sound of
a bike tearing up the street draws the attention of all three of
us. Growing up around a motorbike enthusiast I’ve come to learn the
sounds that the engines make. Dirt bikes sound all high and whiny,
like something got caught in the garbage disposal unit. Well-oiled
machines, like the Harley-Davidsons my dad rides and customises,
have almost a growling purr to them. It’s musical and primal all at
once. It sends chills up your spine and sets your teeth and nerve
endings to vibrate.

And then
there’s the hard and fast variety, the Japanese models made for
speed and not endurance, or so my dad says. He calls them pushbikes
because that’s exactly what they sound like, a motorized
pushbike.

This bike,
though, this bike sounds like it’s on its last legs. It’s low and
gravelly, and kind of sounds like a lawnmower on steroids. Which
tells me one thing—the rider is more than likely not from around
here, or my dad would have had that baby on a hoist the first time
he’d laid eyes on it.

A black
beat-up bike pulls up to the curb in front of Dad’s garage. The
rider’s decked out head to toe in black: leather, jeans, boots and
helmet. Of course, from across the street I can’t make out how good
looking, or even how old he is, but the cut of his shoulders in his
leather jacket kinda makes me a little melty.

He removes
his helmet, runs a hand through his faux-hawk and my heart
practically stops. I look at Holly, who in turns, then looks back
at me, “Oh my—”

“
HOT!” I
finish. We glide over to the window to get a better look at the
newcomer. He can’t see us, of course. Well, he probably could, if
he bothered to look over here, but he’s not. He has his face
pressed to the glass of Big Bob’s Bikes and Auto. He walks to the
roller door of the workshop and knocks hard, three
times.

Holly runs
her finger up and down the glass before her, as though she’s
stroking his body through the window. “He’s way hotter than your
cousin.”

“
He
is
way hotter than my
cousin.”

“
And it
wouldn’t be incestuous for you to sleep with him.” She presses her
palm flat against the glass, and then smiles appreciatively at
me.

Oh no. I know
that look. Nothing good ever comes from that look.

“
You should
go over there.” Holly states as we watch him remove his jacket and
get the full effect of his profile. The t-shirt he wears is fitting
and black, and there are tattoos almost everywhere.
Oh, sweet mother of god
.
I’ve never wanted to lick anyone’s bicep before, but even from
across the street I can see how edible this guy is.

“
What, are
you crazy?” Heat claws at my cheeks because that’s exactly what I
want to do; go over there and ride this guy’s bike.
Sweet baby Jesus, even my thoughts need to be
censored.

“
Ana, you
should totally go and talk to him.”

“
I’m not
going to talk to him.”

“
He’s at your
dad’s shop. What if it’s a life or death situation?” she screeches,
and I swear it’s so loud that it causes hot decrepit-bike guy to
stop looking at his watch and glance up at us. He shields his eyes
and squints into the sun. His head cants to the side just a little
when he finds us watching him. Holly, the traitor that she is,
pulls the cloth from her apron and pretends as though she’s
innocently cleaning the window. I, on the other hand, simply stare
as he crosses the street towards us.

“
Crap. Now
he’s coming over.” I turn and head back to the counter. Holly just
keeps wiping at the window with her cloth, but all she’s doing is
smudging sticky caramel over the clean glass.

“
You’re
welcome.” She giggles like a hyena on crack.

“
You’re
cleaning that window properly before you leave.”

She lifts her
fingers to her forehead in some kind of wacked out girl-scout
salute. “Yes ma’am.”

The bell
above the door jingles and I feel my spine stiffen. The smell of
leather, motor oil and boy sweat fills our tiny shop and I start
inhaling hard and fast. I’m kinda surprised I don’t
hyperventilate.

“
Hi, I’m
Holly. Holly Harris, what can I get you?”

“
Uh, hi.” I
turn and see him withdrawing his hand from Holly’s too tight grasp.
“The shop across the street, do you know the guy that owns it? I
was supposed to meet him there earlier today, but I got held up in
traffic.”

“
Ana, would
you like to field this one?” Holly asks, drawing me into their
conversation and forcing hot decrepit-bike guy’s eyes to look me
over. Is it my imagination that his hungry gaze glides over me from
head to hip? Twice?

“
He’s gone
for the day. Friday night’s bonfire and booze night down by the
river.”

“
Shit. I knew
I shouldn’t have stopped earlier.”

“
Shop opens
again at ten am.”

“
Nah, that’ll
be too late. Any idea where I could find this river?”

“
Eight blocks
down, second turn on your right, then you wanna follow the cane
fields for another five kilometres, you’ll run right into
it.”

Holly’s
standing behind Hot Guy making lewd hand gestures and snapping her
teeth at his bum like she wants to take a bite. I shoot her a
warning glare and jerk my head in the direction of the kitchen
several times, but it’s Holly, so of course she doesn’t take the
hint, which leaves me looking like a stroke victim.

Hot Guy’s
brows furrow. They’re killer brows, all tapered in the right places
but rugged enough so you can tell they haven’t been trimmed or
plucked. Dipping my eyes a little lower, I notice how long his
lashes are, thick black lashes that any women would kill for, but
the observations don’t stop there. His eyes are such a deep, dark
chocolate that they’re almost black and I think I see the first
hint of a dimple when he gives me a bemused smile.

Dimples, for
crying out loud!

Like he
wasn’t already perfect enough with his lashes and his leather and
his freaking melty dark chocolate eyes!

He dares a
look over his shoulder and Holly smiles innocently. I’m pointing
back and forth between her and the kitchen like a crazy person and
threatening murder with my eyes when he turns back around, and I
have to pretend like I’m adjusting my ponytail in order to appear
even halfway normal.

“
You okay?”
The smile is faint, but definitely there, and that brings me right
back to the dimples again.

“
Uh-huh.” I
mutter. Holly shoots me a warning look, a look that says if I don’t
get on with it she’ll make this a million times worse for me.
Resisting the urge to jump on Holly and body slam her into the
pastry display case, I hear myself saying, “I could show you if you
like? The river. I mean. Not show you something else. That didn’t
come out right. I meant—”

“
What Ana’s
trying to say here, is that her shift ends in exactly one hour and
since I’ll be sticking around to watch the brat—” Holly inclines
her head in Sam’s direction, who is watching our interaction like
it’s his favourite episode of
SpongeBob
Square Pants
“—she’d be delighted to take
you down to the river and show you her bonfire.”

“
Holly!” I
chastise.

“
You sure …
uh, Ana, was it? I wouldn’t wanna put you out.”

“
Ana loves
putting out,” Holly chirrups.

She is having
way too much fun with this.

“
Holly!” I
say again, much louder this time.

“
What? He
knows I’m kidding.” She turns to Ole’ Melty Eyes.
“Right?”

He runs his
hand through his hair. I can practically feel the freak out going
on inside his head. Any more from Holly and this guy’s going to
Kawasaki out of town, as fast as his wheels can take him. “Yeah, of
course.”

I sigh and
give both him and my self-esteem an out, “I could just draw you a
map, if you like?”

“
No. I want
you to take me.” His brows knit together and the dimples pop out
when he laughs at what he just said, but he doesn’t make any
attempt to rectify it. In fact, the smile he gives me is downright
cheeky and full of challenge. I smile back, thinking he has no idea
what he just walked into.

He thrusts a
hand out in front of me and says, “Elijah Cade.”

“
Ana.” I take
his proffered hand. It’s warm but not sweaty, calloused, and it
engulfs mine completely.

“
You got a
last name, Ana?”

“
Nope, just
Ana.”

His eyebrow
quirks and the smile he pairs with it is as smug as smiles come.
“Well, just Ana, you and I will be seeing a lot of each other from
now on.”

“
Is that
so?”

“
I’m gonna be
working just across the street, and I’m gonna need a place to eat.”
I know he’s provoking me, any idiot could see that, and yet the way
his voice lowers and his dark eyes seem to hood over when he says
the word “eat” makes me want to offer up myself as an all-night
buffet.

I hear Holly
gasp and I know I’m in trouble. Holly’s very rarely shocked by
anything. I don’t know if it’s what Elijah said, or the way I’m so
obviously drooling over him, but the fact that she’s gasping is
so
not
good. I
look away from Melty Eyes, but I’m afraid I’ll need a cold shower
before I can calm down enough to keep my inner hussy at
bay.

“
Really? I
wasn’t even aware that Big Bob was looking for another
mechanic.”

He looks
surprised. Surprised and suddenly wary. “You know him?”

“
You could
say that.”

“
Tell me
then, what have I gotta do to impress him? I really need to hold
down this job.”

“
Okay, here’s
the thing. Big Bob’s really big on pretty boys, so make sure you
smile. Don’t wear a shirt while you’re working, and he’s partially
deaf so you’ll need to talk REALLY LOUD!”

“
You’re
shitting me, right?”

“
Afraid not.
Mr Boss Man is a partially deaf, raving homosexual. Still want the
job?”

Holly stares
at me in horror from across the room and mouths, “What are you
doing?”

“
Yeah, of
course,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He is clearly
uncomfortable. “I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be stripping or
anything.”

“
Just your
shirt. But something tells me you’re used to people staring at your
bare chest anyway.”

His lips
quirk into a slow smile and there’s a moment when I can tell we’re
both thinking the same thing: Elijah without a shirt. Okay,
well,
I’m
thinking of Elijah without a shirt and from the way he’s
smirking at me, I’m pretty certain his mind is on missing articles
of clothing too.

“
Tell you
what, Elijah Cade, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll bring you
some pie on the house.”

“
That’d be
great.”

“
Sweet or
savoury?”

“
Sweet,” he
deadpans. “Definitely sweet.”

“
Sweet it
is.”

Shortly after
Elijah sits down, Sammy sidles up beside him and they jump head
first into a lengthy discussion about the bike Elijah rides. Sam’s
quick to point out that his older model bike has nothing on a Fat
Boy. He even folds his arms over his chest and frowns the way our
dad would.

Holly pinches
my arm while I’m preparing Elijah’s pie. I’ve really got to get a
new best friend, one who’s against physical violence.

“
Wanna tell
me what that was about?” she whispers.

“
Just having
a little fun, is all.”

“
A little
fun? Ana, there’s fun and then there’s suicidal. You just told him
your dad was gay and enjoyed seeing his employees prance around
half-naked. That might work here; he did knock up the evil bitch
stepmum, after all, but at the garage? Bob’s going to annihilate
this kid.”

“
I know, but
think how fun it will be to watch him walking around shirtless and
yelling at my dad all summer.”

“
You are a
bad, bad girl, Ana Belle,” she whispers
conspiratorially.

“
So they
keeping telling me,” I answer back, but even I hear how the smile
has left my voice.

I set the pie
down before Elijah and Sam’s eyes go saucer wide. “No way. You gave
him a thlice of Ana Cabana thuprithe pie?”

“
Yep. If you
pack up your things I’ll get you a slice
and
a milkshake.”