Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance (2 page)

Nose twitching, Jasmine could smell the familiar foulness of a cigarette. The residents frequently used the stairwell as a place to destress, but she hadn’t caught anyone on the way up and was expecting the trend to continue. She felt a hot pulse throughout her body when her eyes landed on the man.

Well if it isn’t the jerkface himself. “Hey,” she called out.

Luke shifted his head, looking down at Jasmine as she traversed the steps. His person was leaning against the yellow railing, his arms resting lackadaisically. He exhaled a long breath of smoke. “Hey yourself,” he had another drag, “wasn’t expecting to bump into you – looked for you at lunch.”

He looked for me? Jasmine wanted to force herself not to smile, but she was powerless. “I didn’t see you,” she replied, finally reaching the next floor and leaning with her backside against the railing, next to Luke. In her head, she pictured a mass of residents flooding into the small confines of the stairwell, all puffing away at their various cigars and cigarettes; still wouldn’t move, she thought. Jasmine was just delighted to have ran into him.

“Tomorrow then,” he suggested, blowing thin strips of smoke away from her face. At least he’s not a total asshole. “Unless,” he paused, giving a deadly smirk that sent waves of heat straight to Jasmine’s core, “you’ve found someone else to torment you with food you secretly want. In that case I’ll find some other hottie,” he shrugged, trying to contain his amusement.

Jasmine chuckled dryly. “Like anyone else in this hospital of the opposite sex could put up with a dude like you; I keep a stress ball in my pocket just for you, you know,” she snarked.

“Flattered.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Jasmine narrowed her eyes. “And don’t go around using ‘hottie’ what are you eighteen? Hells bells.”

“Shit,” he blurted, “didn’t know you were five-o.” Luke stubbed out his death stick and flicked it carelessly down the stairwell. He then pointed to the muscular biceps on each of his arms, “swear I’ve got licenses for them.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes harder than she thought humanly possible. She pictured herself with a whiffle bat that had the word ‘nerd’ written in sharpie on it. I’d beat him senseless, I mean really. It was then that she pulled herself back to reality and noticed something peculiar on the ground. A Polaroid? She bent down to pick it up, looking at a much younger Luke, whose arm was locked around a young boy of a man; the boy looked just like Luke, save for the fact he had a messy, tousled mop of black hair.

Squinting, Luke inspected the photo in her hand. “Oh,” he said, taking the picture from Jasmine’s hand. “That’s mine – didn’t realize it even fell.”

“Who is it?”

“Hmn? Oh, that’s my baby bro.”

“You two look pretty inseparable,” Jasmine noted.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “What can I say, he’s my compass. Keeps me from bashing in too many skulls,” Luke then crossed his arms into a dominant pose, the sexy leather jacket creaking against the flow of his body. “Seriously though, if you’ve got the hots for my bro – I’ll shoot him myself, or give you his number. Haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh stop,” Jasmine gave a short laugh. “I don’t need any more blood on these hands because of this body,” Jasmine gestured for emphasis.

“Right. We’re doing lunch tomorrow, so be ready for that.”

Jasmine put up a hand and started walking away, wishing that her white coat wouldn’t hide her ass so well when she wanted to occasionally show it off. “Yeah we’ll see about that,” she answered, leaving through the door.

Day Two

She looked and looked, but to no avail; she couldn’t find him. Today she had decided to be adventurous and try the pan fried salmon along with her Cesar. She could imagine the soft texture of it even now, melting in her mouth like butter. The salmon was drizzled in succulent oil, salted to perfection with a dash of lemon pepper that invited her nose to take in all of the wonderful smells; Jasmine’s stomach grumbled and her mouth began to salivate impatiently.

So hungry. Just as she impaled the slab of deliciousness a hand shot out, holding down her plate and another hand joined it, a plastic knife cutting away a good chunk of the fish. What the
hell!

Luke scooped up the piece and ate it all in one go, before dropping his plate casually onto the table. “Wow,” he exclaimed, “not bad!”

“Does it taste better because it was
mine
?” Jasmine scowled, venom dripping from her every word. She noted the black thing on the floor.

“Absolutely,” he responded, sitting down and eating away at his slice of supreme pizza. It had a golden, cheese filled crust – topped with black olives and savory pepperoni; she could smell the browned onions. Munster cheese was melted gloriously over the bread and the crown jewel of the slice was the smattering of jalapenos. He placed what remained of his slice back on the plate, cleaning his hands and mouth of the grease.

Jasmine felt her face redden and she looked away from the man, wishing someone would fan her off or possibly throw her into a frigid stream. Eating like an undignified slob
should
be disgusting
but he makes it look . . . god I just want to—ugh! “Why are you even
here
,” she interrogated, springing up and slicing off a portion of his pizza. “And two can play at that game, you know,” she barked, sitting herself back down. Twin serpents of fire twisted up her spine. Jasmine nibbled on her portion of the stolen pizza, nodding, “I should steal people’s food more often, this
does
taste better,” she said more to herself than anything.

Luke chuckled, “Mannn you’re a spitfire today,” he said. “I like it.”

“Well get used to it, you piss me off.” Oh, and you kind of make my heart sing – and you make my head hurt . . . and you just wind me up so well. Her eyes fell back onto that black object; it had to be his wallet. “That your wallet?” She pointed to it.

He looked over his shoulder, cursing beneath his breath and picking it up. He opened it casually, taking inventory of it for several seconds and then sighing. “Stealing from me again,” he muttered so low that Jasmine had to struggle to hear. Was she not supposed to hear that?

“I’m sorry?”

Luke waved a hand, putting his wallet away, “Nothing,” he assured, “it’s nothing. Anyway, pushing buttons is one of my favorite hobbies,” he drew a breath. “I’m
here
for pleasure,” he japed, “but I’m at Augustine for business,” he admitted.

Warmth curtained Jasmine. “What kind of business would someone like you have here?” That came off wrong. Pinpricks crashed against Jasmine’s feet.

“Someone like me?” His voice was sharp and defensive. “I get it,” he said, “You’re a smart girl, I can tell. But I actually didn’t peg you for a snob.”

Wrinkling her nose, Jasmine straightened herself in her chair. “I’m not a snob,” She replied.

“Yeah?” He drummed his fingers against the table. “So, enlighten me then, oh great all-knowing doctor.”

“Oh stop it,” she was fuming now, things were getting twisted – she hadn’t even meant for it to go this way. “I—I just, just don’t get what kind of business you could possibly be doing here I mean hey no offense, but shouldn’t you be getting drunk with the good ole boys fixing bikes or something?” Damnit. Why can’t I shut my mouth?

Luke gave a single sarcastic laugh. “Is that seriously what you think we do? I really had the wrong idea about you.” He pushed his chair back so hard, that when he got up it tipped over – the table forcefully shifting an inch closer to Jasmine. He turned on his heel and raked a hand through his hair, muttering something while taking strides away.

A couple of people nearby nosily studied Jasmine’s face.

She bowed her head, hoping that her thick, curly ringlets of raven hair might hide her embarrassment. Jasmine whipped her head to her side, snapping, “What!” The winds of anger filled her sails, “mind your own damn business.”

CHAPTER TWO

Jasmine

Day Three

Gloom and doom, that was the sky today – rain pouring down hard against the rooftop of St.Augustine. Jasmine half sat, half laid, against the concrete slab that enclosed the door leading back into the hospital – the musty air making her nose wrinkle. Some rogue drops of water managed to hit her face every once in a while, thanks to the gusts of wind. They felt cool against her skin.

She looked down at her phone and swiped through some messages, most just automatically generated crap from her provider. Her eyes hung on the two texts that were not junk, one from her boss Augustus Lark, and the other from Alejandra. She happened to have just a little crush on Augustus, even if he always did give her a hard time. Jasmine wondered if maybe some part of him shared a mutual feeling – he was always going on about how she was his ‘hazelnut’ – not that she ever understood what in the hell
that
meant.

Trying to mentally block the discomfort, she had a hard time pretending that her feet were not killing her – too many patients today.

Blinking, Jasmine turned her head back towards the dreary scene and tried to ignore the pangs of hunger in her stomach. You don’t eat enough, a voice resounded in the back of her mind – but she wanted nothing to do with it. She’d suffered enough when she was a kid, the thought of going back to that phase of her life scared her like hell.

How can you be so cruel? You should have said you were sorry. Jasmine sighed, running a hand through her hair, twirling a couple of thick curls, pulling on them until they snapped back into place. She had seen Luke today, but said nothing – almost certain that he saw her. He didn’t say anything either.

Mind wandering now, she thought back to those days so long ago. She could still remember her brother’s face like it was just yesterday. Jasmine smiled, that Sunday afternoon the two of them had booked it during second period, going to Gino’s splitting an extra-large pizza with all the meat toppings. Marcus dubbed it ‘The Meatzilla’. Her mouth began to water, she could practically smell the golden crust with the flakes of garlic – the taste of black peppercorn and salt, of hearty Canadian bacon and fennel laced salzitsa They had made it a tradition since then, much to the chagrin of mother and father; but to them it was sacred, one of their many rituals.

Marcus had a way with words, she mused, something that I’ll never have.

But that was the difference between the two. Where Jasmine buried her nose in the library, Marcus would bury something else . . . it was always strange how Miss Garcia gave him such high grades.

Inch by inch, the hole in Jasmine’s soul dilated, letting the wind pass freely through her. She thought of his smile again. Those days I can’t ever have back . . . the pager in her white coat suddenly buzzed and she sighed harder this time. She tapped the back of her head against the damp concrete slab several times.

Today she wished she had listened to her father all those long days ago.

Day Four

Driving into Hart’s Customs and Repairs shop, Jasmine listened to the soothing strums of her romantic guitar playlist. Her last lover had been into this kind of music, and even though she enjoyed it, it reminded her of what was absent in her life – she had sworn that after what had happened, her focus would be on work.

Instead all she could focus on was that asshole Luke.

Ten days of work in a row and now her sort-of-boss Augustus was wheedling to try and get her to come in for a four hour night shift, it just never seemed to end. As she eased her way into the open garage where a couple of mechanics were working on a Honda Accord, she noticed two motorcycles and their respective riders.

Not him, she concluded. Rolling to a stop, she pulled down her window as one of the workers approached. Jasmine’s eyes looked him over. He had green eyes and an earnest smile; barrel chested and broad shouldered, the man had short, brown parted hair. There was a touch of ink on his skin around his collar, but Jasmine could not make out what it was.

Not bad. Jasmine draped an arm over her window and pulled down her shades. “Hey there boss, how much for a basic?”

The mechanic chuckled. “Well ah, we usually take off ah couple hundred for pretty girl’s such as yahself,” his voice definitely had an accent, but it wasn’t totally unattractive like some she had heard. “Good for the business, yah know?”

“And what about beautiful
women
?” She felt silly for having called herself as such, even if only in jest.

“They get ah much better rate, your mom know you’re driving er car?”

Jasmine laughed. “How old do you think I am?”

“Not a day ovah nineteen.”

She snorted and read the man’s tag printed on his chest,
Dale
, “Not quite sweetheart, but I admire you laying it on thick like that for me.”

Four hundred dollars mysteriously parted her wallets embrace that day, and it was notorious for not letting anything go. Much to her annoyance, later that night Augustus made well on his threat to get her to come in – even though he was head of Neurology, the Dean of Medicine liked him a lot, and Augustus had a very particular view on one’s work ethic.

Day Five