The Moon Upstairs: a Biker's Story (Book 4 in the Series) by Edward Winterhalder

Author:Edward Winterhalder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2012-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

A gentle breeze teased the new set of bamboo wind chimes, making for a serene environment as Blues lay on an exercise bench doing bench presses. In the back of the garage, he had found an assortment of dumbbells, barbells, and vinyl-coated weights, which he appropriated.

As if swinging a hammer and hauling building supplies weren’t enough to remind him that he had a reason to live again, he opted to put them into service. Between the meditation and the weight lifting, Blues was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he was going a little over the edge.

While he worked out, he was wearing only a pair of cut-off blue jean shorts, leaving the rest of his body exposed. His latest trophy, the bullet wound in his left arm, had fully healed, and the stitches had been removed.

Kate hustled across the backyard from the main house to the guesthouse, where she joined him on the patio. He continued with his routine for a moment, and didn’t make eye contact with her right away, but could sense that she was busy and in a hurry.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Northcombe?” he said from the bench, as he pushed the pile of weights toward the sky.

Kate couldn’t help but glance at his muscular body, scars, and tattoos, for it was the first time she had seen his upper body and arms totally exposed. He stole a glance at her when she didn’t reply right away.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

Blues hooked the barbell into the supports. Slowly he sat up, threw his leg over the bench, and turned to the woman. Reaching down to the ground, he picked up a T-shirt and pulled it on over his head.

“You’ve been doing a great job here, Blues. Even Spencer is impressed.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Northcombe. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, no thanks. I can’t stay.”

He poured some water from the jug on the floor beside him into a glass he retrieved from the table, and drained it.

“I need a favor, Blues. I’m in a jam. Asia is coming home from London tomorrow, late afternoon, early evening. I was going to meet her at Albany International, but my plans have changed and there is no way I can go and get her. Is there any way you can pick her up for me?” Blues did the mental calculations, taking into consideration his meeting with Justine at three, and Albany being a little over an hour away.

“Sure, I can pick her up. It will be good to see the city again.”

“She’ll be on the afternoon shuttle from JFK that arrives at four-thirty. The city still looks the same, but I’m sure that the traffic is worse now than it was the last time you were there. I appreciate this, and I’ll be glad to pay you for your time,” she offered.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” he replied, offended by the offer.

“Well, at least drive my car. Okay? I’ll take Asia’s Porsche for the day.

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