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“Did he take it someplace?” That was going to be expensive. I didn’t mind, and it was probably something I should’ve done a while ago, but some warning would’ve been nice.

“Nope. Did it himself.” Rico’s smirk told me there was more to this story.

I couldn’t begin to fathom how much work went into the repair job, or more accurately the restoration job. It was so beautiful, and someone had done that all by hand. My bike was more than just a bike to me, but they couldn’t have known that. My eyes teared up. Someone who didn’t know me had put so much care into this.

“Did he say how much?” I didn’t really care what the cost was. It was stunning and because of him, my well-loved bike had been treated like the treasure that it was.

“Oh, about that. I asked him. He said he wasn’t taking your money.”

A weird way to say it.

“So, will he take yours?”

“It meant, he just wanted to do it.” Rico half shrugged, that knowing smirk still there.

“Not even for the parts?” Those alone had to be expensive.

“Listen, my buddy loves tinkering around and fixing things. He enjoyed doing this. Don’t worry about it.”

It didn’t feel right. “At least, could you help me send him a thank-you?”

“Fine. But don’t be weird and send money.”

“I might be weird, but I won’t send money.” I held up my three fingers. “I promise. Thanks for everything.”

Rico wrote down the info, said his goodbyes to Dog, and went on his way home. He was barely out the door before I sent him the money for the dog sitting.

I plopped on the floor beside my bike, and Dog came over, pressing his chin on my leg.

“Can you believe this?” I asked him. “It’s so pretty. Almost too nice to take outside.”

I looked down at the scrap of paper Rico had given me with the contact information. The guy’s name was Galan. Could it…no, it couldn’t be that daddy from Chained, right? What were the odds of my crush being the one to fix my bike?

Reaching into my pocket, I fished out my phone and typed all the information into the search bar. There were a bunch of hits, most not relevant, but it also pulled up a picture of my daddy crush.

It was him. Rico knew Galan. They were friends. The super-sexy daddy fixed my bike.

“Did you know it belonged to me?” I asked the name on the piece of paper. “Do you even know who I am?”

He probably didn’t. But one thing was certain; I needed to thank him. I wanted to do something special, not just a dollar-store thank-you card saying, Oh, we appreciate you, all generic-like and as if all cards were group projects.

I didn’t know what to get him. I’d promised Rico I wouldn’t send money, and I would keep my word. But Galan’s time was valuable, and he did spend his own cash. Even if he wasn’t my crush, I’d have wanted to do something special, but knowing that it was…the pressure was on. I needed it to feel personal. Maybe making him a gift was the way to go.

An hour later, I climbed into bed, still not having made any decision. Ideas from sending him my phone number to a gift card to the bike supply store to offering dinner floated through my mind.

None of them felt good enough, but I was too tired to stay awake. Instead, I pulled up my covers and, with my dog by my side, fell fast asleep.

Chapter Seven

Galan

I hadn’t had such a great time doing anything in years as I did working on that bike. At first, I was a little afraid that I might not be able to do it justice. But once I had it taken apart and spread it out all over the garage floor, it all came back to me. I had never found a bike I couldn’t fix, and apparently that had not changed.

My own bicycle hung on the wall, a fine coating of dust marring its shiny finish. It, too, had once been a relic, the final one I’d redone. Most of those I found and brought back to life, I’d sold, for extra cash or to help out my widowed mom with expenses, but I hadn’t been able to part with this one.

“I’m sorry,” I told it. “I promise to find time to go for a ride soon. I miss you, too.” If anyone at work heard me having this conversation with an inanimate object, they might be concerned for my soundness of mind, but my friends at Chained would understand. Especially the littles. They often had strong attachment to things they loved, like stuffies or in Ridge’s case, a set of toy keys. Or…a bicycle?

Could be.