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I cleaned the parts, one by one, and assessed their damage. Most could be reused, but there were a few that had to be replaced, and I made a list of those as well as some other items like paint and grease and more of the cleaner I liked to use. The tires were beyond saving. How the owner had managed to keep air in them long enough to ride anywhere was beyond me. So, they were also to be replaced.

Always trying to stay as close as possible to an original, I had managed to find a few chips of light-blue paint on the frame and carefully scraped them off into an envelope.

The paint store was my first stop, where the magic of the spectrophotometer allowed me to leave with an exact match. I’d always loved that device. Then I visited the hardware store, the auto-parts place, and, finally, my favorite spot on earth, the bicycle shop.

Back home again, I got to work with a passion I’d almost forgotten. It took days, but I didn’t mind a minute of it. How long since I’d been so carefree about anything? It wasn’t until I put on the new seat and polished the handlebars one final time that I realized I might have made a huge mistake.

If the owner was so in love with his bike, might he actually prefer it the way it was? Had I majorly overstepped and ruined something special while trying to make it the very best it could be?

Stepping back, I looked it over one more time. It was gorgeous. Possibly better than the day it left its own bike shop. But please make whoever it belonged to agree with me that this was how it should be.

Some people admired things in a state of arrested decay. Some littles, in particular, liked their things just as they were.

I dropped it off with Rico, who had so many good things to say, I felt a little reassured, but maybe he didn’t know what his friend would like. He was due back in a couple of days, so I left it there and told Rico I hoped the friend would be pleased and not horrified at the changes.

Back at work after the weekend, I paid for missing those days. I might not have anything immediate at the office requiring my attention, but I still had plenty of work to do. As a result, I didn’t find time to get to Chained and see if that little was there again. Or to check in with Rico to see how my bike refurbishing had been received. Determined to stop by the next evening, I got home from work to find a package in my mailbox.

Intrigued, I carried it inside and opened it. A beautiful diamond art picture of a blue bicycle accompanied by a note.

Dear Galan,

Thank you for picking up my bike. Imagine my surprise when I got back from my business trip to find it had been transformed. It’s like brand new. Probably better. Thank you even more for that. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to see my bike looking so beautiful.

With sincere gratitude,

Lake

After his name, there was a phone number, and I didn’t waste time thinking about it before I called. He said he was happy with my work, but was he maybe just being polite?

“Hi?” The question mark at the end of answering any phone call from a stranger.

“Hello. This is Galan. I wanted to thank you for the gift. It’s very special.”

“Are you kidding? After you made my bike brand new again? It wasn’t enough. Just a small thing.”

“No, it’s not, but I am glad you were pleased with the bike. I was a little concerned that maybe you liked it just as it was, and I’d overstepped.”

“Not at all. I just…can I pay you for all the parts and everything?”

“Pay me for reminding me how much I enjoyed my teenage hobby? I should pay you.” I chuckled. “In fact, I’m planning to go find another bike to fix on my next day off. Maybe at a yard sale.”

“Well, I won’t let you do that, but how about if I take you out to dinner and we call it even?”

“Deal.” I wasn’t used to someone else taking me, especially paying, which I was confident he would insist on, but why not?

Chapter Eight

Lake

“Eek! I’m going on a date with my crush.”

To say I was giddy was an understatement. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. It wasn’t technically a date. It was a thank-you dinner. But it felt like one. And if it was date-shaped, why not a date? No matter what it was called, I was going to dinner with him, and it was just going to be the two of us.

I wanted it to be perfect. I didn’t want to do anything wrong and ruin it, but I also wanted to be myself. What was the point of being on a date if I wasn’t going to be myself?

It took me forever to figure out what to wear. I wanted something that hinted at my little side but also didn’t give the message that all I cared about was him being a daddy because it absolutely wasn’t. Probably. I loved the idea of having a daddy of my own, but that wasn’t a deal-breaker for me.

“Dog, what do you think? Do I look good?” I twirled around. My fit for the night, a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt that emphasized the muscles on my shoulders. I wasn’t super strong. No one would call me a bodybuilder or say, “Oh, you work out,” except when it came to my shoulders.