Bound to the Alpha Racer

I let out a tired sigh as I stepped off the bus and dragged my feet along the sidewalk into the busiest area of Balmoral City. Honestly, this city is one of my least favorites. My feet knew the way by heart—past the rundown apartment buildings and down a narrow alleyway that could only fit one car. Five minutes later, I arrived at my dad's so-called kingdom. I stepped into the completely empty garage. There wasn't a single car waiting to be serviced. Wait a minute... I rushed across the space and shoved open the small glass office door that looked like an aquarium from the outside. "Dad!" I called, sounding half-annoyed. My dad, Jacob Underwood, spun around in his chair. He was on the phone and signaled me to wait. "Yes, sir, I'll take care of it by the end of the month. Of course, I'll try my best. Thank you for your patience." I didn't have to ask who it was. It was definitely the bank following up on the mortgage. This was the third month that Dad had delayed the payment. If he missed it again, we could lose the garage. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" Dad asked in his usual calm tone as if nothing were happening. "Did Ray take the cab?" I asked. "Early this morning. He had to find passengers, didn't he?" "Did he pay?" Dad didn't answer right away. He just looked at me with his usual gentle eyes. Then he sighed and shook his head. "But he promised to pay once he gets the money." I pressed my hand to my forehead in frustration. "Dad, this is the third time Ray hasn't paid for the repairs! You can't keep covering the expenses!" "But Ray's our neighbor, Lune, and his wife just had a baby. If his taxi gets totaled, how will he support his family?" "Dad..." My voice trembled. "You have a family too. Me!" "Lune, everything will be all right. You don't have to worry." As far as I can remember, nothing has ever been all right in my twenty years of life. We've always lived like nomads, moving from one town to another. I can't even remember how many times we've moved. Dad worked in an automotive company, then in someone else's shop, and now he owns his own place, but nothing ever seemed to work out for him. Every time we started to settle down, he'd suddenly decide that we had to move. It was as if he were avoiding someone or something. We've been in Balmoral for two years now. After Mom passed away, Dad started drowning in debt from opening this garage. I call it a charity garage because most of our customers pay us in promises. "Do we have to move again? What's left for us? More debt?" I asked hopelessly. Dad came over and put an arm around my shoulders. "Believe me, every problem has a solution. You just have to keep the faith." Oh, sure. I totally believe we'll kicked out by the end of the month. The garage shut down, and the apartment was gone. Yeah, I think we'll be homeless soon. But I didn't dare say that to Dad. He's been through enough, especially after Mom died. Even though he tried to put on a tough act around me, I could hear him crying every night. He loved Mom with everything he had. If all this is tied to the failing business, it wouldn't surprise me. Mom was the heart of this family. When the heart's gone, what's left? Nothing. We walked out of Dad's office and into the empty garage. These days, even finding customers is hard. His health had been declining, too, so he couldn't work as quickly. I tried to help, but it never felt like enough. "How did your interview go?" Dad asked, changing the subject. It was a long and exhausting trip with a disappointing result. I was sure I'd get the job at the official racing bike garage due to my skills. But... "They don't want female mechanics," I said flatly. Dad looked surprised. "Maybe it's because you're too pretty. They don't want a star stealing the spotlight." Oh my god. Is that his idea of comfort? His words made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. But, I know Dad trying his best. I shook my head firmly. "Dad, they still believe that men are better. This country clearly supports equality." "Look on the bright side. At least you can work here as much as you want." I don't understand how Dad can always stay this positive. "Most of your customers bring in cars, not bikes. I'm not passionate about that," I shrugged. Dad was better at fixing cars. I was more into motorcycles. He pinched my cheek. "But even so, you're still great at it." "Okay, okay," I gave in. Dad glanced at his watch. "I need to go get some groceries. Should we close up the shop? It's already five." "I'll close it. You go ahead. I'll be home before seven." "All right, I'll cook something comforting." Not long after, Dad left the garage, leaving me alone. He knew that when I was upset, it was better to leave me alone. As for how I dealt with emotions? I cleaned everything in sight. At least that burned off some steam. "Okay, let's start with Dad's office," I mumbled to myself. By the time I finished tidying up the garage, it was already 7 p.m. I turned off the lights one by one until I heard something crash outside. “What the hell was that?” I murmured. I peeked out toward the alley. This neighboorhood was quiet, so I gotta be extra careful. A headlight from across the street shone on the garage. A motorcycle lay on the ground, and a man sat beside it with his head down. Was he hurt? I rushed over. "Hey? Are you okay?" I asked. "I fell off my bike. Something's wrong with it," he replied, sounding drained. "I need to get home..." I checked the bike, and wow! It was an Arch motorcycle with a 2032cc V-twin engine. A luxury bike. It was way better suited for highways—it could hit 100 mph with ease. What the hell was a bike like this doing on a narrow street like this? There were a few scrapes on the body, but I couldn't tell how severe the damage was. "I'll take a look," I said. He raised his head, and I froze. I swear I saw a flash of gold in his irises. "You can fix it?" he asked skeptically. "That's my dad's garage across the street," I said, pointing. "Come on. I'll check it out." We wheeled the bike inside, and he immediately slumped onto the old couch near the workbench. I stole a quick glance at him. What kind of man looked that unreal? He was tall with broad shoulders and long legs. His skin was sun-kissed. And those eyes… "I'll pay extra if you can fix it quickly," he said. I nodded quickly and grabbed the toolbox. But I kept glancing his way, not because of his looks, but because he looked uneasy. He kept shifting around like he was in pain. Had he hit something when he fell? Then, I caught a soft, earthy scent with hints of cedarwood and fig. It made my heart pound faster. I turned around and gasped. He was standing right behind me. I jumped to my feet. "Just sit down. I'll handle it," I said nervously. But his eyes locked onto mine, and his breath was ragged. He moved closer and gently cupped my chin. "Who are you, really?" he growled.