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- Herausgeber: WS
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Dickens
My tranquility is shattered when a motorcycle repair shop moves in next to my bookstore. All I want is peace and quiet. What I get is gunning engines and eighties rock music. One of us has got to go, and since I was here first, it’s the hot mechanic.
Spike
I chose Mission City to set up shop because of the weekend-enthusiast riders. I’ve dreamed of owning my own shop for years, and no one is going to run me out of town. Least of all the adorable geek Bookstore Dude.
This 25k gay romance novella is a true instalove, enemies to lovers, opposites attract story with a cuddly cat named Aristotle. The story first appeared in the anthology Love Is All Volume 5. This novella is also included in the Love in Mission City: The Shorts box set.
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Seitenzahl: 126
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Page Against the Machine
A Mission City gay romance novella
Gabbi Grey
Copyright © 2022 Gabbi Grey.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
References to real people, events, organizations, establishments, or locations are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover art by Cate Ashwood Designs
ISBN: 978-1-7781514-6-0
Dickens
My tranquility is shattered when a motorcycle repair shop moves in next to my bookstore. All I want is peace and quiet. What I get is gunning engines and eighties rock music. One of us has got to go, and since I was here first, it’s the hot mechanic.
Spike
I chose Mission City to set up shop because of the weekend-enthusiast riders. I’ve dreamed of owning my own shop for years, and no one is going to run me out of town. Least of all the adorable geek Bookstore Dude.
This 25k gay romance novella is a true instalove, enemies to lovers, opposites attract story with a cuddly cat named Aristotle. The story first appeared in the anthology Love Is All Volume 5.
Dedication
Wendy, Jeanine, and Renae
Contents
Chapter One
Dickens
“One caramel macchiato extra hot.” Sunshine put the cup on the counter in front of me.
I’d been so absorbed in the ordering system, I hadn’t heard her come in. I scowled.
“The bell above the door is working fine, boss.” She tapped my forehead above my frown. “You’re too focused on placing the next order.” She glanced over at the screen. “That’s not enough.”
My scowl deepened. “I don’t want to end up with extra inventory.”
“And the last time she released a book, we sold out in two hours and had customers complaining for days while we tried to secure more copies. She’s taken off since then. Hometown girl made good.” She tucked a strand of her blue-black hair behind her ears and her pale-blue eyes shone. “You should triple that order. I’m telling you—Raven’s new book is going to be a bestseller. Plus, you can do more online orders if you’ve got extra.” She tapped her neat, polish-free finger on the counter. “But we’re not going to have surplus stock.”
I tried to argue with her logic, but, as always, her reasoning was sound. “Have you asked her about doing a signing?”
“Boss, you know her as well as I do. And you’re the owner of the store.”
“Didn’t you say your sister went to school with her?”
Sun rolled her eyes. “Yes, Rainbow was in Raven’s class. Yes, she used to hang out at our place. But you’re the proprietor of this establishment.” She waved her hand around. “I’m just the employee.”
My scowl returned with a vengeance. “Bullshit.”
She tisked.
“Oh, please. There’s no one here.”
One perfect eyebrow arched.
Damn, if she’d come in without me hearing her, then…
“Relax.” Her grin split her face. “No one else is here, so take a breath. And fine, I’ll call Raven. I’m assuming you want her to do a reading as well? I’ll see if she’s available for an evening or weekend presentation. She teaches university during the day, and her books are young adult, so we want the kids to be able to attend.”
“You know a huge percentage of young-adult fiction readers are actually adults.”
“I was aware of that.” Her eyes flashed.
“Of course you were.”
Sunshine had been an employee of the bookstore for over ten years. She started when my parents still owned the store and had fortunately stayed on after they retired and turned the store over to me. My folks were happily enjoying their time up in the Okanagan region of British Columbia while The Owl’s Nest bookstore they founded sat in Mission City, part of the tranquil Fraser Valley. We were within spitting distance of Vancouver, but we retained a small-town feeling.
“I’m going to open the box we got yesterday and—”
“It’s already done.”
Now she scowled.
I shrugged. “I was bored.”
“Boss.” No missing the exasperated tone. “When your parents renovated the second floor and turned it into an apartment for you, I’m positive they didn’t intend for you to spend all your spare time in the store.”
I’d concede that much. They hadn’t wanted me worrying about a mortgage. Their ingenuity meant I had a lovely home above the shop. It also meant I could come down whenever I had insomnia. The smell of books invariably soothed me, and I’d soon be ready to crawl back into bed. “Well, I’m sure you can find—”
The sound of a gunshot rang through the store.
My first instinct was to duck, but gunfire in Mission City was ridiculous. Ah, must be a car backfiring. “So if—”
Another one.
My gaze shot to Sunshine.
She raised an eyebrow as if to say, what’s your point?
This time, a motor revved.
My hackles rose.
“Drink your coffee, boss. I have some news.” She inclined her head. “Remember when the McKinneys sold their store?”
“Sure. About six months ago.” Where was she going with this?
“And you didn’t know who bought it?”
“I presume you’re going to enlighten me?” I loved her, but occasionally she took her sweet time getting to the point.
“A motorcycle repair shop.”
I gaped. “How did they move in and I didn’t notice?”
She rolled her eyes. “You just spent the last week at a book-buying convention in New Orleans, and you stopped in New York and Chicago. Did you think the world held its breath while you were gone?”
“Well, frankly, yes. This is Mission City. Nothing ever happens in Mission—”
Another loud rev.
“Goddamnit.”
She snickered. “Whatever.” She waved her hand. “They had a crew come in last week. Pretty much worked twenty-four/seven. Got the entire thing done up. Looks pretty spiffy. Of course, in a week or two, there’ll be a layer of grease and—”
“They can’t stay.” I pushed my glasses up my nose. “Absolutely not. We can’t have a repair shop next to the bookstore. Oh, why did the McKinneys have to sell?”
“Because they literally won the lottery?” She snorted. “And moved back to Prince Edward Island to be with their kids. Why run a hardware store when you can sit and watch the ocean waves?”
“I…” I had no idea. Not about any of it. I worked. I worked hard. I couldn’t fathom sitting around all day looking at water. No, my parents gave me a job when I was thirteen, and I’d worked almost every day since—when I wasn’t in school. So, in other words, half my life.
This tangent was getting me nowhere.
Another rumble.
I flailed my arms at the huge overstuffed chairs. “We want readers to come in, put their feet up, and stay awhile. How’re they going to be able to think, let alone concentrate on a book, with all that racket?” I pounded my fist on the counter, startling us both. “I’m going over there.”
She giggle-snorted. “To do what? They have as much right to be here as we do.”
“No. We were here first. Downtown Mission City doesn’t need that…noise.” Could I add more derision to the word? Possibly. Nah, probably not.
Sun placed a hand over my fist. Instantly, a wave of calm washed over me.
Damn woman. I wanted to be mad, and she wanted me to be placid. Sometimes, her sensitive nature overwhelmed my swirling emotions. She often brought peace when my mind spiraled into chaos. On the flip side, I possessed a drive she didn’t have within her. Synergism. I managed the business side, and she handled customers. We could change lanes when we needed to. But why mess with something that worked so well?
And the woman’s sensitivities sometimes veered into psychic abilities, but we never talked about that.
“He’s a nice man. You don’t need to go over there all upset and make a fuss.” She stroked her finger along my thumb. “You need to go and introduce yourself. Welcome him to the neighborhood. I won’t say too much, but—” She glanced around, letting me know she was about to impart a great secret. “—he’s lonely.”
“So what?” I almost said I was lonely, and it was no big deal, but being that personal with my employee didn’t seem a good idea. The sympathy in those sky-blue eyes assured me that my unspoken comment had also been understood. “Fine, I’ll be nice.” Grudging.
“Take him a black coffee.”
I arched a brow.
“A hunch.”
No point arguing or snickering. I grabbed my formerly extra-hot drink and headed out into the morning sun.
Our store faced south, so we had sun for a good part of the day. The sun blazed overhead, promising another scorcher. Mid-June, and we’d already set record temperatures for most of the spring. And really dry too, which meant my parents were likely to have to endure smoke from the wildfires.
I’d tried to dissuade them from heading up into the interior, but they’d tired of city living. I missed them.
I pivoted away from the new store and headed down the road to Tim Horton’s. No line-up this morning, so I secured a cup of dark roast and a six-pack of Timbits. Nothing said gracious more than offering half-a-dozen donut holes.
As I wandered back past my shop, I snuck a peek into the front window.
Aristotle lay resplendent in her window seat, perched upon her preferred pillow. She was a favorite amongst all the patrons, although she was getting older. Still, she was as cute as the day I brought her home.
I’d heard about a litter of kittens found abandoned by the railway tracks.
They’d been in rough shape, and the littlest one had a broken leg, some nasty bites, and an infection.
Sunshine’s older sister, Dr. Zephyra Dixon, had stepped up to offer her veterinary skills for free.
The deal was, I could keep one of the kittens if I raised enough money to pay for the medicines they required. Being all of fifteen, I organized a bake sale at school and guilted everyone I knew into baking and then goaded them into buying the sometimes-questionable results. I raised enough to cover the costs for all the kittens. To my pride and joy, all found good homes. I got my pick of the litter and, of course, chose the little black-and-white one.
After recovering from her broken leg, Ari thrived under the love.
I begged my parents to bring her to the shop so she wouldn’t be alone all day.
They rolled their eyes, but did as I requested and, for all those years, they hauled that cat home every night and back to the store every morning.
When I moved in upstairs, she naturally followed me home every night.
Sunshine watched her while I was out of town.
She opened her eyes, blinked lazily in the sunlight, licked her paw, and then laid her head back down on the pillow.
I wouldn’t have her with me forever, of course, but I’d enjoy every minute until the time came.
Another engine blast raked across my nerves.
Determinedly, I stalked over to the store.
Spike’s Cycles’ façade was much the same as it’d been when the McKinneys owned it. Brown brick with a huge plate-glass window. The old-fashioned wood door had been replaced with a metal one, and the gray color stuck out as too modern.
Oh well.
I opened the door and stepped inside.
The waiting room had three metal chairs, a coffee table with some magazines, and a counter. A couple motorcycle posters adorned the wall.
The room felt jarringly new, but that’d soon dissipate, I was sure. I tried to see past the counter into the back room, but spotted nothing. I exited the store and headed around the corner.
They’d partitioned part of the old parking lot with high wire fencing and razor wire at the top.
It stood out like the proverbial sore thumb and didn’t fit with the aesthetic of First Avenue.
Well, maybe it matched the car dealership at the other end of the street, but that’d been there as long as I could remember.
An overhang covered much of the space, but part of the brick had been torn away to create a massive rolling door that sat open. Three motorcycles sat on the asphalt. No, wait, a fourth sporty type one sat off to the side. Lime green.
Oh, Lord.
The sun glinted off the chrome, nearly blinding me. I squinted and, finally, spotted a human being. He knelt on some kind of mat, giving me the most wonderful view of his amazing ass. His jeans fit like a second skin, and his jean shirt did nothing to hide his broad expanse of back and muscled arms.
He pulled something, and as he shifted, he dropped the wrench.
“Fuck.”
I cleared my throat.
His body twisted as he reacted to my voice and he nearly knocked the bike over. He righted it. Then he righted himself as he rose. He turned and glared. “Don’t you know not to creep up on a guy?”
Creep up on? I pointed to the store. “I tried going in there first.”
The scowl didn’t lighten, but he did shrug. “Okay, what do you have?”
“Have?”
Oh.
I held out the coffee and Timbits. “Just welcoming you to the neighborhood.”
He hesitated.
Far too long. God, did he think I poisoned it or something?
Finally, at length, he wiped his brow with a rag and removed his sunglasses.
Wow. Just wow. Eyes the same dark brown as my ex-boyfriend’s. His hair was as dark as Sunshine’s, although with hints of light brown in the bright sunlight. He had a beard. Not a full beard, but a nice version of trimmed scruff.
I held up the coffee, and he finally accepted it.
“Uh, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” And it would be, if I got to look at this guy all the time.
He was my every fantasy come to life.
Chapter Two
Spike
