Free Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1) by Michelle Irwin Page B

time.”
    “That’s awesome. Maybe it was fate that the bike was so jacked up.”
    “So you wanna go?”
    “Yeah!” It was impossible to contain my enthusiasm because I was finally old enough to go out to the sort of places those bands tended to play—ones with liquor flowing freely and an age limit of eighteen.
    Then it hit me like a Mack truck. The drinking age was twenty-one in the States. Did that mean that I would be so close to seeing Robbin’ Blind and not be able to see them?
    “Wait,” I added. “It’s not a nightclub is it? What I mean is, does it matter if I’m not twenty-one yet?”
    “Nah, they keep the restaurant open, so it’s all good. You just won’t get a wristband, that’s all.”
    “Well, count me in!”
    “Good, I’ll tell Brittany we’ve got one more for the night, she’ll be thrilled. There aren’t too many Robbin’ Blind fans around these parts.”
    “Brittany?”
    “Yeah, uh, my girlfriend.”
    “Oh.” I was actually a little relieved that it wasn’t a date. I hadn’t come to the States looking for love any more than I’d come to spend two weeks in a garage fixing a bike.
    “You didn’t think it was a date, did you?”
    “No. Of course not,” I lied as smoothly as I could, although I could feel the heat rising up my cheeks.
    “Uh, aren’t you into girls anyway?”
    My eyes flared at his words. Was he really suggesting . . .?
    “Why? Because I can fix and tune a bike?” With the wrench gripped tightly in my hand I pointed at my accomplishment. Without thinking, I advanced on him and poked him in the chest. “I can’t get grease under my nails and still like guys? Is that what you’re saying?”
    “No. I didn’t mean that.”
    “Funny, because that’s exactly what it sounded like you meant.”
    “I just prefer girls who are into having make-up on their face rather than grease.” He pointed to a spot on my cheek, which was no doubt coated with the grease and grime that came with working in the shop. “Most guys are.”
    “I’m not feminine enough, is that it?”
    He held his hands up in surrender.
    I shook my head as I threw the wrench back into the toolbox. I should have expected it really.
    “Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a blast having you around the shop.”
    For every guy who turned into a head-to-toe hard-on watching me around an engine, there were at least two who thought I had to be a lesbian just because I liked getting in the thick of it. As though getting dirty were somehow linked to sexuality.
    “Whatever. I’m kinda glad it’s nothing more. The last thing I need is any potential for attachments on this trip.”
    “We cool then?”
    I shook off the irritation. It had pissed me off when I thought he wanted a date, so it would be hypocritical of me to be annoyed that he didn’t. “Yeah, we’re cool. What time should I get there tonight?”
    “I can pick you up if you like?”
    What a ridiculous suggestion! “Are you kidding me? You said it’s up in the hills, right?”
    “Yeah, so?”
    I glanced pointedly at my bike. “Do you honestly think I’m going to miss the chance at letting her stretch her legs a little before we take off together?”
    He chuckled. “Okay, okay,” he relented, before giving me directions. “Be there at seven.”
    “Awesome. Thank you for the invite.” As I finished up the last touches on my bike, including cleaning up her bodywork as best as I could, I thought about the fact that the night would mark the real start to my trip.
    I couldn’t wait.

 
     
     
    THE NIGHT HADN’T exactly gone the way I’d hoped. I’d left the garage and checked into a motel for my last night in Sacramento. Then I’d dressed up in my nicest leathers and a floral blouse. It was subtly feminine, but with enough edge not to stand out in the crowd of punk rockers.
    When I’d arrived at Barb’s Shack, Brittany and Mike had invited me to sit with them over dinner. It was halfway through the meal that it became