Page 18 of Bridging the Gap

Rifling through the cabinets, I found two stemless white wine glasses, placing them on the counter. “So, uh, are you dating someone?” That doesn’t sound awkward at all.

Bridges had admitted he was divorced from a cheating husband, or so I remembered from the revelation at the reading of Dad’s will. I had no idea if Bridges was gay or bisexual. It didn’t matter, did it? I mean, my crush on him was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Not fucking really, genius.

I sliced the different cheeses and meats I’d bought, splaying them on the cutting board in a pattern I remembered from my parents’ parties. I opened the crackers and filled in the empty spaces before going to the fruit bin in Bridges’ fridge to find an apple and a pear, slicing them to add to the board.

“That looks damn good, West. How are things going at work?” Bridges picked up a cracker and a slice of smoked gouda cheese, adding a slice of pear.

“Uh, they’re good. I’ve been working up to fifty miles a day. I mean, I’m not there yet, but I’m hoping it’ll be soon.”

I’d been riding as many miles a day as I could to reach my goal. My job wasn’t bad. The folks I worked with were cool. Most of our clients were nice, and occasionally I got a bagel or a donut when I dropped off packages. The folks who were clients of Superior Courier Services were very nice.

Bridges grinned. “Good for you. I have no doubt you’ll be up to more miles soon. Have you considered tackling the Empire State Trail? It’s from here to Albany. Seven hundred and fifty miles. It’s a good look at what to expect for your trip across the country.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Uh, sure. I mean, that would take a few days, right?”

The handsome man chuckled. “A few days? Seven to eight days if you can ride ten miles-per-hour. Five or six if you can ride faster.”

“So, I’ll need to take a week off from my job?” I didn’t know if they would give me the time, but it was worth the ask.

“Quit that fucking job, Weston. You can work for me more than the ten hours you’re doing now. How about Labor Day weekend? I’m taking out two prototypes to ride the Empire State Trail. Come with me.”

That surprised me. “Quit my job? I can’t quit my job, Bridges. I need the money. You want to take me with you on the ride to test the bikes?”

“Do you know the way on your own?” Bridges smirked at me.

“No, but I’m sure there are maps I could study.” I couldn’t believe he was planning to take me with him. How cool was he.

“I’ve ridden the trail a few times to test out new bikes. I think it’ll be a good way for you to strategize the journey you’re about to undertake. This is a short glimpse of what you’ll face going across the country. It’ll help you figure out where you believe there might be weaknesses in your strategy.”

I sucked in a breath. “Okay. Uh, will you... You’ll help me figure that out, right?” I grabbed a cracker and a piece of cheese, adding a slice of pear. After a bite, I brushed the cracker crumbs from my shirt.

“Of course I will.” Bridges picked up a cracker, stacking it with cheese, meat, and fruit before he bit into it.

“I know you have a lot of other things going on, but I appreciate any time you can give me.”

I’d been working in the bike shop with Alexis, mostly cleaning stuff so I could build hours for when I needed Bridges for my ride. I owed him two-for-one, and I was determined to give it to him.

Bridges sighed. “I’m happy to do anything I can to help you out.”

Was that the truth?

Chapter Eight

Bridges

Why the hell was Weston Aames so damn tempting? I’d probably asked myself that question hundreds of times over the last few weeks since Weston and I had hung out.

West slept on my couch on the night of the Fourth of July after sharing a bottle of wine and researching some options for gear that I could get for a discounted price, shaving a hundred bucks off the prices he’d found.

Not surprisingly, I’d barely got a wink of sleep when we finally said goodnight, tempted to go out to the living room and bring him into my bed. I didn’t do it, but I’d fought with myself until the sun came up, reciting all the reasons why it was a bad idea like my personal mantra.

The rest of summer went by in a flash. Weston didn’t quit his job at the courier service, saying he enjoyed the work there and was making friends. I certainly wasn’t going to push him to stop doing something he enjoyed.

I’d given Alexis the responsibility of finding things for Weston to do while he was at Eaton Cycles. I kept my distance because I didn’t want to look like a stalking asshole when he was there. He helped her out with various projects—sometimes just tidying up the office or workshop—every night for two hours as promised. He even wrote his time on a calendar on the wall of the shop before he left while I hid out in my office.

He was a hard worker and Alexis said he had no problem accepting instructions if he didn’t know how to do a task. As I thought, he was a good guy who really wanted to succeed, though he didn’t want to run Aames Investments. I didn’t bring of the subject if I ran into him during the day when he was around. Any advice he needed on that matter was well above my pay grade.

West took off Labor Day weekend so he could take his first distance ride from upstate New York back to Brooklyn. He was used to battling Manhattan traffic for his day job as a bike courier, but he also needed to experience riding in rural settings, like those he would experience on the ride to San Francisco.