Ride With Me (Paige and Jace) novel Chapter 1

PAIGE’S POV

The shrill sound of my alarm dragged me out of sleep long before the sun had even decided to climb over the rooftop. I reached across the bed and slammed my hand down on top of it before it could start ringing again. I lay there for a few seconds while staring at the cracked ceiling above me.

The apartment wasn’t much, but it was mine. It sat directly above Lawson Customs Bikes, and although the place was old enough to complain every time I walked across the timber floors, it had become home surprisingly quickly. The walls needed repainting, the kitchen was barely large enough for one person, and the furniture had all been second-hand when Uncle Will bought it years ago. But everything was clean and everything worked, and every corner reminded me of him. That was enough.

I climbed out of bed and stretched for a second before I headed into the tiny bathroom.

The hot shower helped wake me up properly, and after brushing my teeth, I pulled on my usual work clothes. My faded blue jeans that already had permanent grease stains around the knees and the old AC/DC shirt hanging in my wardrobe that had survived more engine rebuilds than I could count.

Mechanics didn’t wear designer clothes. We wore evidence.

The kitchen cupboards weren’t exactly overflowing either. But I stared inside for a moment before grabbing a load of bread.

“Toast again,” I muttered.

The coffee maker spluttered noisily while the bread toasted, and I stood by the window watching the quiet street below.

The faded Lawson Customs sign hung proudly above the workshop. One day I’d replace it, I’d repaint the building, and I’d buy better equipment. One day. But right now I just needed customers.

I finished my breakfast, rinsed my mug, grabbed my keys and headed downstairs.

The familiar scent of oil, rubber and steel greeted me the moment I unlocked the workshop.

Most people probably hated the smell, but not me. I loved it. It smelled like hard work, like home.

I switched on the lights and walked into the office before stopping in my tracks.

A pile of envelopes on the desk hadn’t magically disappeared overnight. Power, water, insurance, mortgage. I picked up the mortgage statement and slowly exhaled.

Another payment was due in less than three weeks.

Business had improved slightly since I’d taken over, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

I rested my hand on the desk and looked around the workshop.

“I promised you I’d keep it going. I’m trying, Uncle Will,” I whispered.

The bell above the office door jingled, and I looked up just as Tyler Montgomery walked inside.

His polished shoes looked completely out of place on my workshop floor, and his eyes travelled slowly around the garage before settling on me.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually living above this place,” Tyler said, and I leaned against the doorway.

“It saves on the morning commute,” I said, but he ignored the joke.

“This place is filthy,” he said.

“It gets cleaned every day,” I said.

“It still smells,” he said.

“I’d rather smell engine oil than fake smiles,” I said, and his jaw tightened.

“Your parents are worried,” he said, and I folded my arms.

“They’ve got an interesting way of showing it,” I said.

“They’re embarrassed,” he said.

“There it is. The actual truth,” I said.

“You walked away from everything,” he said.

“I walked away from constantly being blamed for everything,” I said.

He sighed heavily as though I were the difficult one.

“You embarrassed both families,” he said.

“I think they’ll survive,” I said.

“You had everything,” he said.

“No, Charlotte had everything,” I said.

“That’s not fair.” He frowned, and I laughed quietly.

“That’s rich coming from you. She managed to take you away from me,” I said, and he shook his head.

“You’ve become impossible to talk to,” he said.

“I’ve become honest,” I said, and his eyes wandered around the workshop again.

“You seriously think this garage is your future?” he asked.

“I know it is,” I said.

“It barely stays open,” he said.

“It stays open because I work for it,” I snapped.

“You don’t belong here,” he said.

“I belong exactly where I chose to be,” I said, and he took another step closer.

“Charlotte would’ve handled this differently,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m sure she’d have hired someone else to do the work while she took the credit,” I said.

“Why do you always have to insult her?” he asked.

“Because she keeps earning it,” I said.

“She’s successful,” he said.

“So am I,” I said.

“She has respect,” he said.

“From people she’s manipulated into thinking she’s a nice person,” I said.

“She has ambition,” he said.

“I own a business,” I said.

“A failing business,” he said.

The words landed harder than I expected, and he noticed. His expression softened for barely a second before hardening again.

“You’ll never make enough money to keep this place,” he said.

“I will,” I said.

“You’ll never succeed,” he said.

“I disagree,” I said.

“Charlotte is everything you’re not,” he said.

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