One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) (20 page)

Just as she consulted her mental rolodex,
she spotted a man wearing a black leather jacket riding a Harley
pull off the road until he stopped about fifteen feet behind her
car. Marisa should have felt relieved, but she couldn’t see through
the biker’s helmet shield, and she took that as a bad omen. She
feared that he might remove the helmet to reveal a leering lunatic.
She dialed 9-1 and kept her finger above the last 1 in case she
needed to call for help.

The rider killed the engine, got off the
bike, and walked toward her with powerful strides as he unsnapped a
button on his helmet.

Marisa imagined a sweaty-faced man with
thick, oily sideburns behind that helmet. Underneath the jacket,
she envisioned a hulking figure bent on slamming a fist into her
face, which would knock her unconscious, only to drag her into her
car and cut up her body parts. Then she recalled that she was on a
major road in daylight. Those facts reduced her apprehension.

The biker lifted his helmet to
reveal…Alex!

Marisa stared at him, speechless.

He grinned as he strutted toward her, his
hair unruly from the helmet. “You didn’t have to puncture your tire
to get my attention. You could have just picked up the phone.”

“A bike?” That was all she managed to
mutter. Although dumbfounded by a man she thought she knew
everything about, Marisa felt her heartbeat throttling with
confusion, relief, and excitement. Other than their brief meeting
yesterday, they hadn’t really spoken in the past three weeks.

Yet everything about him seemed different:
the way he walked, his posture, his grin, and the way he spoke to
her. It seemed like an imposter had taken up residence inside his
body.

Something inside her clicked, and God help
her, but she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and incredibly
drawn to this new person.

He turned back to his bike. “Pretty wild,
isn’t it? I worked my way up from a Huffy to a Harley. Not much of
a learning curve, either. Who would have thought?” He checked out
the damaged tire then stopped beside the trunk. “Could you pop
it?”

“Um, sure.” She did so but couldn’t stop
staring at him as he lifted the sheet of cardboard above the spare
tire well. He removed the lug wrench, unfastened the bolt and
wing-nut style fastener, and pulled out the spare, placing it
beside the near obliterated tire.

“You know how to fix a flat?” she asked.

“What’s the worst that can happen – you pull
into traffic, the tire falls off and you spin out? Sure, you can
get into a pretty nasty pile-up, but who wouldn’t trust a
librarian? Am I right?”

Fueled with irritation at his joking,
frustrated because he’d turned into a stranger, Marisa shoved him
in the chest. “You could get killed. What are you doing?”

“Hey,” he said, holding both hands up in
surrender. “Take it easy. I won’t be driving your car. I brought my
bike. You’ll be the one who—”

“Not the car. I’m talking about that bike.
How did you learn? Who did you get it from? Why are you even riding
it?” Hysterical with worry, she couldn’t help but lash out at
him.

Unleashing a sarcastic grin, he said, “Is
this a multiple choice quiz…or essay format?”

“Stop with the—”

“Because it’s probably best that I just get
you back on the road ASAP. Sound good?” He brushed past her,
affixed the lug wrench to one of the lug bolts, and loosened it
before moving on to the next. “Can you get your owner’s manual? I
want to find out where I should put the jack.”

“You’re scaring me,” Marisa said, stopping
beside him. “Do you know how to fix a spare? Be serious.”

Alex looked up at her, offended. “The
owner’s manual?”

Feeling guilty for questioning his
abilities, she went off to get the car manual then returned and
handed it to him.

She had so many questions, but it seemed
that Alex didn’t want to answer any of them. Annoyed, she just
watched as he found the page he needed, examined a diagram, then
placed the jack in front of the rear tire, and hitched up the
vehicle six inches off the ground before removing the damaged tire.
Alex placed the spare onto the car, tightened the nuts a little,
lowered the vehicle to the ground, and completed tightening the
nuts in a diagonal pattern.

She watched him with rapt attention, shocked
that he took care of the tire so quickly, so effortlessly.

“Okay,” he said, getting to his feet. He
picked up what remained of the tire and placed it into her trunk,
followed by the lug wrench. He brushed his hands together to remove
a few pebbles. They came away filthy. “Do you have a rag or
something?”

“Uh, yeah.” She went back into the car, took
out a roll of hand towels and removed a couple. Then she grabbed a
half-empty water bottle from the front seat, returned to him, and
poured some water onto his hands.

Alex cleaned off his hands and wiped them
down. “Well, it seems my work is done here. Glad I could help.” He
smiled at her. Then he turned around and walked back to his
bike.

Stunned at his sudden arrival, quick
assistance, and imminent departure, Marisa just stared at him as he
put the helmet back on and started up his bike. The engine chugged
to life. He glanced over his shoulder and, finding the nearest cars
quite far back, pulled into the closest lane. He kicked into a
higher gear and nodded at her as he zoomed past her.

Never so puzzled than at this moment, Marisa
watched him speed away, leaving her with a functional vehicle, but
a confused frame of mind. What had happened to her best friend?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

That night, Alex stopped by
Apocalyptica
to meet Damon. They had only exchanged a few
short texts since last weekend when they met Cassandra and her
friend, and Alex wanted to update him about all the changes that
had taken place in that time.

He also apologized for leaving the bar last
night before Damon arrived, due to his near fight with Brad. After
Alex downed a shot of Vodka Skyy, Damon appeared, dropped a hand on
his shoulder, and ordered a couple more shots.

“So how did it go with Cassandra last week?
And don’t skimp on the details.”

“It didn’t feel right,” Alex said, not
wanting to go into great depth. Unless he’d closed the deal with
her that night, Damon would have been disappointed. “I couldn’t
take it there. I told you. I’m in love. I can’t just ignore it.” He
downed his shot.

“Love,” Damon said, disgusted. He accepted
the shot glass from the bartender and gulped it down then asked for
another round. “Damn, dude. Cassandra was hot.” He shook his head.
“Love.” He glanced around the room. “There a jukebox in here? Maybe
get some Tina Turner going to get your head straight?”

Alex got the “What’s Love Got to Do with It”
reference. Some might believe that Damon was upset because he’d
spent time “coaching” Alex to get his love life straightened out,
only to have his pupil fail. But muttering the word “love” with
such revulsion revealed that Damon understood exactly why Alex
couldn’t sleep with Cassandra and, more than that, he sympathized
with him. “When was the last time you were in love?” Alex asked his
friend.

Damon met his gaze and held it for a moment,
looking uncertain whether he should touch on the subject. The
bartender appeared at that moment and refilled their shot glasses.
Damon used the interruption to avoid answering by consuming the
liquor in his glass. But he looked pensive, perhaps debating
whether or not to answer.

“Forget I asked,” Alex said and took his
shot.

“No,” Damon said, looking straight at his
reflection in the mirror opposite them. “You were there the last
time I was in love.” He turned to Alex. “Didn’t go over so well,
did it? Guess it’s not cut out for me.” He chuckled without humor.
“I even have a little quiz I give every potential ‘victim’ of mine
to see if they might be right for me. It’s juvenile, I get that,
but…”

Alex, intrigued that Damon decided to
confide in him, gave him his full attention. The last time they
discussed this topic took place while Damon suffered all those
months of heartache back in college. Damon probably figured that if
he never again opened himself up to the possibility of getting
hurt, he wouldn’t feel the pain of lost love.

Alex couldn’t conceive the idea of living
life without allowing his heart to love. After all, in a world with
so much pain and violence, what was the point of living without the
chance of finding love?

Damon asked, “If you were stranded on a
deserted island and you had three wishes, what would they be? I ask
every woman I meet that question. None of them get it right.”

“The question is subjective.”

“No, if you plan on remaining stranded, it’s
not subjective at all.”

That’s when Alex recalled that Damon
mentioned asking this question in college. Katrina, his great love,
had once asked Damon that question. And of course, at that point,
he also thought the answer was open to interpretation. He had said,
“I only need two wishes: a house with all my belongings in it…and
you.”

Katrina looked disappointed and later
admitted to him that his response became the beginning of the end
of their relationship. According to her, there was only one correct
response: “a boat – to get off the island.” And now, it seemed that
Damon had taken Katrina’s question and made it his own in an
attempt to find the one woman who could answer it “correctly,”
perhaps giving him the freedom to give love another chance.

In Alex’s opinion, Damon’s trick question
was either romantic in a tortured sort of way or one of the dumbest
things he’d ever heard in his life. He supposed both were probably
accurate.

So it seemed, even after all of these years,
Damon still hadn’t gotten over Katrina. Alex had never met her, but
the way his friend tormented himself with her memory made Alex wish
he could one day bump into her just so he could understand what
about her made Damon so lovesick that he couldn’t wipe her memory
from his mind.

“Meeting Cassandra wasn’t a total loss,”
Alex said with a glimmer of pride, simply to liberate Damon from
his demons. “All I’ll say is that I
could
have, you
know…”

Damon, returning to the present, unleashed a
slow smile. “All right.”

To get off the subject, Alex said, “I got my
motorcycle license today.”

“Well, all right!” He patted Alex on the
shoulder. “That calls for a drink on me.” He got the bartender’s
attention and ordered another round. “That’s awesome. I’m looking
forward to riding with you. Two loners on the highway. Heading out
towards the sunset.”

“What are we…gunslingers in the old
west?”

“On a steel horse, we ride,” he said,
re-adjusting the lyrics of a Bon Jovi song.

Rolling his eyes, Alex said, “You and Marisa
would sure hit it off.” A second later, he added, “I just joined a
martial arts class today: Hapkido.” Alex told him all about the art
form, but not about the motivation behind his interest in taking up
the sport.

Damon offered a knowing smile, the kind that
intuited that Alex had finally understood why Marisa had failed to
find him attractive. “So where do things stand between you two? Any
movement there?”

Alex took his time detailing their meeting
at the Bedford Falls Public Library yesterday and his unexpected
encounter on the road with Marisa a few hours ago.

“Split decision,” Damon said. “The whole
thing with your library – that sucks big time! But this afternoon?
You scored major points there. It’s about time Marisa meets the
cooler side of Alex Lawford. Nicely done. Remember, keep it going.
Don’t wimp out. Make sure she understands that you want more than
friendship.”

“How do I do that?”

“By not seeking her approval. By taking the
lead. By not letting her make all the decisions. By not being
affected by what she says or how she acts. And by letting her know
that she’s in your world now, and not the other way around. Take
every opportunity to give her a hard time…in a charming, smooth way
like we talked about. Make her want to spend time with you. Other
than meeting a couple times recently, you two have been basically
apart for three weeks.

“For a best friend, in chick-terminology,
that’s like an eternity. That means you’ve had time to change. She
already noticed it. You have to emphasize things by not going back
to acting like a wimp again. And part of that means that you can’t
be the same friend you were: don’t act like her girlfriend, wanting
to know her deepest feelings, secrets, and thoughts, unless she
offers them up. That is worth repeating: she has girlfriends. They
fill that need. You have to encourage her to see you differently by
acting differently but still remaining true to yourself. Do all of
that, and she’ll want you. I guarantee it.”

*

After Marisa called Kelsey to let her know
that she would have to cancel due to the blown tire, Kelsey decided
to drive over to her friend’s house with a Home Run Inn pizza.
After Marisa removed it from the oven, they sliced it up and let it
cool while they refilled their glasses with Merlot. Marisa hadn’t
seen Kelsey since before “the incident” with Alex a few weeks ago,
and she missed not confiding in one of her closest friends.

Considering that they ordinarily
communicated daily and spent time with each other a few times a
month shopping, seeing movies, or stopping for a bite to eat, the
time apart felt like forever. Kelsey understood her need to
separate for a while, and a couple minutes after they hugged, they
fell back into an easy rapport.

Marisa had already explained everything that
happened during her meeting with Alex today, and spent some time
mentioning his more direct manner and his request to refrain from
calling him Alexander. “All told,” she said, “I found it
off-putting.”