David looked up from the transmission he was inspecting, looking for that leak somewhere in the lines, toward the sound of the door chime of his showroom. Two women walked in and the one closest to him, the redhead, took a look around and caught his eye, raising a hand.
"Welcome." he said as he moved out of the garage towards them. It was a short distance, his bike shop was not that big of an operation. "What can I do for you?"
As he got closer the second woman turned toward him but didn't meet his eyes. In fact, she didn't look at anything. With the 100 yard stare and the cane with a big white ball on the end in her hand, the second lady was blind as a bat.
When she turned to the sound of his voice and he got the full view of her face he just stared. Then stared some more. Like a fucking adolescent whose never seen a hot chick before but damn. She was the gold standard of what he considered hot. Dark hair which looked black except for where the sun hit it, then it looked deep brown. Green eyes, like a forest. And curves that made him want to sit up and beg.
Then she started talking and his whole body hummed. Like her voice was fingers down his spine and he was a violin getting tuned.
Violin? Where the fuck did that come from?
Who cares, she was looking at him expectantly. Then he realized that he hadn’t actually listened to a word she said.
“Ahem, sorry about that, got distracted. What was that again?”
Vaguely he could see the redhead looking at him with the same intensity he had just been giving the transmission. Bet she was wingman for her girl here and knew exactly what he was thinking. Hopefully she approved and didn’t cock block him. Cause that's how women roll, if the friend says “bad vibe” you listen and get scarce. Damn it, pay the fuck attention! he told himself.
“I need to sell my bike.” she said again, this time just getting to the punchline. He frowned, why did a blind girl have a bike in the first place, though no mystery on why she was getting rid of it. Can’t cruise.
Man, if he lost the ability to cruise, he would be so fucked. He loved his bikes. So when he saw the flash of pain on her face as she went into make, model, year, and condition he knew, for sure, that this being blind must be new. And it was killing her to sell.
“Don’t want it.” he said.
They both just looked at him like he had two heads.
“Why the fuck not? Not good enough for your second hand bike shop?” she spit out after a second.
Damn it, he thought. Talk about stepping in it.
“I mean, if the bike is important to you, you should just keep it.”
She gave him a cold front from Canada look, without making eye contact and that was also so damn hot, as she said “Like I’m ever going to ride again. Hence the need to ditch what I can’t use.”
Even through the frosty glare he could see the pain this was causing her and damned if you couldn't knock him over with a feather for how surprised he was that that pain made his gut twist.
“Look, uh, I’ll come out and take a look at the bike, give you an offer. But, ya, if you just wanna keep it, cause I can see you love your ride, then that’s cool, too.”
Smooth.
Like gravel.
Like loose gravel.
Like that triangle of loose gravel on turns that bikers hate.
Yup, that’s about how smooth he was.
Ah shit, he was going to ask her out but maybe now was not the right time. Maybe when he came to look at the bike? If she let him come look at it?
“So, sound good, can I come out and take a look at the bike? Save you the hassle of bringing it in?”
She gave him a considering, well not look, but ya, look. Next to her the redhead said nothing, was just enjoying the show. Not stepping in the help, not steering her friend clear of trouble either. He stood there like an idiot hoping he hadn’t blown his chance.
“Sure.” she said.
-------
Jessica was in her garage giving her bike a last wipe down before the shop owner came. Not that it needed it but because she did. She didn’t need her sight for this, she knew every curve, every inch of her bike and as she worked she pictured it in her mind. She did as therapy suggested. She brought out the memories of riding, of fixing and tuning up, of just owning this piece of chrome and leather. Then she said good-by.
By the time she was done and the guy showed she was pretty raw.
She listened as she heard a vehicle come into the drive way, probably a pickup truck. Door open, close, footsteps. She measured the distance and then stepped foward, hand out for a shake when she figured he was close enough.
“Thanks for coming.” she said.
“No prob.” came the deep voice. The guy had hands that were twice her size and his voice sounded like it came from the bottom of a well, deep and vibrating along her spine. Heather said he was delicious looking, and isn't that just fine and dandy.
“Look, I’m not looking forward to selling, but it’s what I’ve decided. So this time can we skip the part where you manage my expectations, tell me what I should be doing, and instead, just give me a quote?”
If the guy was taken aback and looked at her like she was a bitch, which most of them did, at least she didn’t have to see it.
She would kill to see the ‘nice bitch routine’ face.
Whatever. Not gonna happen. Get over it.
However he took it, nothing showed in his voice. He just said “Fair” and got to looking at the bike. She hung back as she listened to his steps, circiling the bike. Pausing, moving. The sound of his hands over the leather seat. She answered the questions about mileage, which was high, accidents, which there were none, care, which was pristine, etc. Mostly she just hung onto herself, arms wrapped around her middle, trying not to kick him out of her garage and away from her bike.
“She’s a beut.” he said.
“Sally.” Jessica said automatically.
The guy gave a low chuckle. A deep, vibrating, low chuckle that made little butterflies instantly appear in her stomach. WTF?
“I like it. Sally a good ride?” he said in the voice that was making her not unhappy.
“The best.” she said and was surprised that she was able to give a small smile.
“I’ll take good care of Sally over here.” and just like that the smile and butterflies were gone. It was all she could do to give a tight nod.
It was less than a half hour later that the bike was loaded, strapped, and cash was passed.
Jessica was looking to get inside for some goddamn me time which for her was to call up some friends to come over for some loud ass no thinking time with the stereo cranked and the booze flowing. But the guy, what was his name?, hadn’t left yet. He was hanging back and then piped up with a question that floored her.
“Wanna go out some time?”
------
As David drove home he was seriously thinking of just driving into a ditch and forward pass into a pole. And while that might sound good to put him out of his misery it would put Sally in jeopardy and that wasn’t going to happen.
Smooth.
Like triangle gravel.
God damn it.
He’s not this lame. Really, he’s not. But when he was in the garage and didn’t have a reason to stay there, he just blurted out the question. Normally, you want to try and talk to the person of interest. Get a vibe check, see if the convo can flow, maybe lay down a little flirt. But no, he decided to forgo all of that and just blurt it out.
Thing is, there was no good segway between “I’m selling something precious to me because of a critical disability.” to “hey, wanna get dinner, see if I can make you laugh, and ya, who knows if things get handsy cause I’m seriously jonesing to know how well that ass fills the palm of my hand.” Nope, no good segway at all. But damn if he was just going to walk out of there without even trying to lay down an interest.
While he had been looking at the bike, most of his attention had been on Jessica. Cause that was her name. He loved that name. Never cared about that sort of thing before, now, best three syllables in the English language.
The fun of checking her out though was dimmed by the stark pain in her. She so did not want to let go of that bike. Better yet, if he was to guess, she didn’t want to be in a position of never riding again.
And how is it that his dream girl, leather wearing, motorcycle riding, curves that make Maralyn Monroe look like a housewife was in his city and he didn’t know it? Sure, he didn’t know every rider. Especially since he didn’t sport any patches. But enough came through his shop and he’s been around plenty that they should have crossed paths or he should have heard of her.
Man, what would it have been like to meet her before whatever happened went down. Judging by the bike, which really was a well used and loved beauty, she was a real rider. As David headed down the city street he envisioned a country road, flat farmland, sun low and soft, wind just right, with her by his side. That was a sweet, sweet picture.
And not to be. And not just because she won’t be riding anymore. Oh sure, she can ride bitch for someone, but if it was him, it would be the other side of never before he let himself be driven around. He saw the same in her. This bitch rode her own damn bike.
No, a ride of any kind wasn’t going to happen because she shut him down. She was easy about it, kind of surprised, no shit she was surprised. But cool about it. Just made him like her more. But he’ll respect the space and back off.
She knew where to find him and if nothing else, she knew he was interested. So that’s something, right?
------
You know those movies from the fifties of girls waiting by the phone for the guy they like to call? Ya, he knew the feeling. Can’t call her, cause he was respecting the 'no'. He asked, she gave her answer, story ends here. Damn it. In real life it's not cool to keep pestering and harassing until you get your way. And he didn’t know any of her people to try and get a good word in on his behalf.
Maybe he can make something up about the bike? Issue with the transfer of ownership? Then he could call her.
Skeevy, underhanded, likely to open wounds around the bike. So, plan B?
David just growled and tried to focus on the repair job in front of him.
Instead his mind wandered back to its new favorite obsession. He wondered all kinds of things about her but mostly he wanted to make sure she was okay. She had shown him an almost smile in her garage and he wanted to see the full thing. And hear her laugh. And see if she likes pranks and jokes. He wanted her to be happy. And why the hell was that? No idea, except the idea of her happy kind of made him, ugh, warm inside. Damn it. He was NOT a warm and fuzzy kind of guy.
When he stripped the bolt because he was in his head and not on his work he tossed his tools aside in disgust and went out the back for some air.
This was so not him.
Fuck this, he was calling some guys and going out.
As he was closing up a call came into the shop.
“David’s Bikes. What can I do for ya?” he answered.
“Hey, is David there? The big guy who owns the place?” came a female voice. David didn’t recognize it and that just pissed him off that one, it wasn’t Jessica and two that he was hoping it was and then disappointed that it wasn’t.
Which is a lot of emotional ping pong and he did not like it.
But he will be civil.
“Speaking.” See. Civil.
“Um, sorry, is this a bad time? I can call back.” said the voice.
Guess his tone could use some work. David ran a hand over his eyes and let out a breath.
“No,” he said “It’s fine. Whatcha need?”
“Well, my friend and I were in your shop a week ago. She was looking to sell and you bought her bike.”
David’s heart did weird things in his chest.
“Yea, I remember.”
“Well, the thing is, she fucking loves that bike and giving it up has been hell on her.”
Bingo - bango he was dead right.
“I was kind of hoping you might be able to cheer her up.” That was a left turn David wasn’t expecting. The voice, who must be the redhead, moved on quickly before he could get in a question. “I saw the way you were looking at her and she told me you already asked her out when you were buying the bike. BTW, nice try but way bad timing.” No shit, sherlock. “So anyways, if you're interested, and free, well, maybe you could accidently bump into her tonight after I drag her ass out to a bar. Maybe spend a little time talking to her, getting her out of her head, you know?”
Oh. My. God. This was perfect.
He cleared his throat and tried really, really hard to be cool about this.
“Uh, ya, I guess that could be cool.”
The redhead gave a laugh that sounded like she knew exactly how badly he wanted this second chance.
“And just to be clear, so I’m covering my bases here, you're single, right? Not married? Not in any kind of relationship, including the kind where you ‘haven’t said we won’t see other people’”
That got a laugh out of him. He could hear the air quotes. “No, no relationships at all. Free agent here.”
“Good. And arrest record - anything violent? Drugs? Kick stray dogs?”
“No, no, and god no. I would shit-kick any asshole that hurt a dog.”
“Perfect. Meet us at the hole in the wall bar down by Quincy and LaFayette street. I’ll try to get her there by 9pm.”
“Good deal. See you then.”
After hanging up David took a moment to just stand there and started planning his approach. He was not, absolutely not, going to fuck up this second chance. And thank God and Little Fishies for wingmen and -women everywhere who were looking out for their partners in crime.
------
Jessica was parked with David in front of her house, feeling nervouse like a teanager after that first date, which just pissed her off. Mostly since the only reason she was nervous was because of how completely foreign this once familiar situation felt in her new capacity. Getting picked-up and dropped off by the guy was not her style. Sitting in the car after he drove her home, taking that moment before getting out and ending the date to extend the connection just a little was way too fucking RomCom and she kind of wanted to puke.
But he was nice. More than nice, he was actually a really great guy and it really was a really great date and damn it all, she did actually want to extend the time just a few moments more before it ended.
Fucking hell.
She heard him shift on his seat and then without warning a hand touched the side of her face. Instant reaction was to swat it away because she did not see that coming.
No pun intended.
She could feel the guy go super still and then said “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”
“No, no. It’s fine. It's just..” she tried to put into words her emotions. She didn’t mind the lean-in for a kiss, assuming that’s what that was. She was just surprised. So she said that. “I got surprised.”
He gave a little chuckle in that deep voice that did delightful things to her. “Ya, okay. So how do you want to do this? Cause I’m staring at your lips and I need ‘em like right now.”
Hello.
Her emotions went for a roller coaster ride right off of libedo cliff.
“So kiss me.” she commanded. And he obeyed. And she honestly didn’t know what was better, the order and response or his mouth working against hers. As the kiss kept going she went with the kiss being the best part of the sitch.
After forever and not long enough he pulled back.
The moment stretched but then it was time. Either invite the guy in or go in alone.
She said her goodby, made her way into her place, and just sat on her couch for a year.
Damn but that was a good kiss and one fine ass man. Hmm, wonder what his ass is like? And chest? Oh man, what would it be like to run her hands down his chest to his belly, find the happy trail and follow to the end.
She didn’t have a first hand view of what he looked like, no idea what his body might be like. But she had clues. Heather had given her the low down on how he looked, and she knew the feel of his hands from where he placed one on the small of her back or his forearm where she placed her hand when he helped guide her around. The sound of his voice and her response each time it dipped into bass range.
And his mouth. Against hers. His body was close to hers, so close, but he hadn’t pressed himself against her in the car. Which was gentlemanly and a crime. Oh well, something to look forward to.
“I’m staring at your lips and I need ‘em like right now.”
Oh ya, definitely something to look forward to.
-------
Jessica walked into the bathroom, hands out in front, feeling her way to the door frame, then the wall, and yup, the toilet was on the right just like David said it would be. And yup, the seat was up. Ugh! but it is his place so fine.
They were on the “let’s have dinner at my place, I’ll cook” RomCom episode, or date, whichever. They had just finished dinner, which he didn’t actually cook. He said he’s not very good at the stove so it was an ordered-in meal of salmon, new potatoes, and good wine. Which she highly approved of. One, restaurants make her jittery now and two, just because you don't cook doesn't mean you can't have a good meal. Enter delivery services.
After finishing on the toilet she then moved by feeling her way to the sink to find the faucet and in a flash of bright pain she knew she had hurt herself. She yelped out and when the pain set in she set her teeth against it and curled her hands into her chest. She had cut her fingers on something on the counter top, something sharp enough so that it takes a second for the nerves to really register the damage.
David came into the bathroom on her left after a knock and she heard him curse. “What did I cut myself on?” she asked quietly trying to keep as still as possible in this unfamiliar room, so she didn’t hurt herself on anything else, because she can see absolutely fucking nothing and god damn she was sick of that shit!
“My straight razor. Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think.”
“You just keep a straight razor out on the counter? Are you serious? Is it really too fucking hard to close the damn thing?!” Jessica sucked in a breath as David took her hands and held them under the running water. She made herself hold back the rest of the anger. It’s not his fault, he doesn’t know what it’s like being blind and this is her first time coming over.
With care David bandaged the two first fingers of her left hand. “It’s not deep.” was all he said.
As he finished Jessica took in a calming breath. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I won’t take my anger out on you again, k?” She felt like a shithead, lashing out like a child. She was surprised when he took both of her wrists in his big hands and placed her hands against his chest, turning her towards him.
“You do what you need to do. You need to yell, do it. You need to hit something, I’m right here.” and then he let go of her wrists.
David was a big man with a large, broad chest, and her hands curled into fists against that wall of muscle. Without waiting for an engraved invitation she let out the simmering anger that is always there and she was soon pounding his chest punctuating each blow with “I hate this! I hate this! I HATE THIS!!”
She hated being blind. She hated being vulnerable. She hated that she couldn't wash her mother fucking hands without injury. She hated not being in control and the failure, the treason of her own body.
The storm of anger broke with a sob and she sagged against his chest. He had just stood there the whole time, absorbing the pounding blows without a word. And when her forehead came down to meet her hands his big arms came up and wrapped around her. With that kindness she broke down sobbing, burying her face into him.
When the second storm of pain passed he gently held her face in his big hands and even though she couldn’t see she knew he was looking directly into her eyes.
“You ever need to let loose, you use me. I can take it, k?”
“K.” she said, surprised at herself. And at him. And frankly, just drained and finally quiet inside.
----
The next day David took a look at himself in the mirror before putting on his shirt. Damn the lady can hit and he had some beauties of bruises. Did it bother him? Not one damn bit. In fact, since she got hurt because of his dumb ass he damn well deserved every bruise and then some.
No, the only thing he thought of when he looked at the black and blue was that they told him more than all of the gum flapping in the world just how much his woman was in pain. And she is his woman. Four weeks since she walked into his shop but he knew for abso-fucking-lutely certain that she was his. All he needed to do now was make sure she accepted him as her man.
As her man he saw it as his responsibility to take care of her. More than that, we wanted, no, needed to take care of her. See her smile. Know she was well and content. He never felt that way about anyone before. He’s dated, but never needed to care for any previous girlfriend. Sure, he can be a gentleman which is basically just being respectful and not a dick. But the desire to snuggle a person he was seeing in warm blankets on a cold, winter day? Nah. As far as he was concerned, the human race as a whole can go fuck themselves or not, he could care less.
But one thought of Jessica shivering in the cold and he was ready to chop down the goddamn rainforest to build a bonfire the size of Texas to keep her warm.
David smiled a little at himself at the thought. He finished getting dressed and looked around his pad. He had done a little research last night and had come up with some ideas on how to make his place more blind person friendly. He thought about the razor cut and got a sick feeling in his gut at how much worse it could have been. He already threw that thing away and ordered an electric razor. He had liked the feel of the straight-edge but that paled in comparison to the idea of her getting hurt again so it was a no-brainer on which he would choose.
The front door chimed and he picked-up his overnight delivery. The first step in taking care of his woman was ditching the razor. The next step was in this box. As he brought it into the kitchen to get to work he thought about her pain and what he was going to do about it.
---
As Jessica stepped through the front door of David's place, she thought about the last time she was here. She had never had someone who just let her be violently angry, to rail on them like that, and damn but didn’t it feel good. At the blind camp where she got an immersive course on how to live in her new reality, anger management was a required class cause hello, basically everyone who becomes blind usually has some strong feelings about it.
Those anger management techniques were helpful, constructive, and healthy. And didn’t do half as much for her as poudning and screaming on David had been.
Was he really alright with that? It seemed, well, too close to abusive to use him as her punching bag just to work off her anger. His words came back to her, “You ever need to let loose, you use me. I can take it." He hasn't brought it up since and she didn’t ask. The relationship was too new and she didn’t want to fuck things up so she let well enough alone but at the same time resolved that she wasn't going to hurt him, even if he said he could take it. Not that she doubted it. But because he didn't deserve her to hurt him, in any way, ever.
“Here, I want to show you something.” David said, guiding her with her hand on his forearm. She liked that about him. He didn’t get all self conscious about saying things like ‘show you.’ Ya, she can’t see anymore, but damn, the verbal gymnastics some folks went through to not be 'insensitive' would be funny if it wasn’t exhausting. 9 times out of 10 when someone slipped up around her and said something that was ‘insensitive’ she ended up having to calm them the fuck down. Not David though. Which was perfect. If something made her upset, she would say so, and she was pretty sure that is also how he operates.
He led her to the fridge which she figured out when he guided her hand to the door handle. After she opened it he guided her hand again to the edge of the shelf, which was odd, but then she felt the brail. She read “beer”, moved her hand to another label farther down which read “meats”. As she kept moving her hand through the fridge on the edge of each shelf and drawer was a plastic label written in brail.
While she explored David said “I’ve put labels on everything. If I missed something, though, let me know. And when you're ready, we can do a walk-through of the house so you can learn the layout. Anything you wanna change and I can move it for you.”
It took a couple of tries but Jessica was able to say “I don’t know what to say. Thank you David. This is, it’s, just, oh damn, thank you, k?”
He said “I’m gonna kiss you now.” and his warm hand found her face and held her gently. No more surprising her with unexpected contact. And actually, he kind of liked telling her what was going to happen. Then he guided her face up to his as he leaned down and kissed her. It was a good kiss. Not hurried, taking its time, saying the thing that words can’t seem to say as their bodies melded into each other.
---------
David wanted to tell her that he was hers if she would have him. That he was going to take care of her, anything she needed he was good for it. The first was too heavy, too early. The second would get her back up because she was as independent as they came and god he loved that about her. Was still going to do right by her, though. Not because she was weak and needy, but because it would be an honor if she accepted his protection. Which again was too heavy, too early. So he kissed her and let the body language say it for him.
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