What Happens in Sturgis: an Atypical Office Romance

The fact that Vince avoids kissing has never stopped him from getting what he wants from women. But now he’s shared a little too much with his new co-worker, Tori—and she’s made it her personal mission to change his opinion. Falling for each other is NOT in the plan. After all, what happens in Sturgis, stays in Sturgis. Or does it?

Vince pulled the company truck into the dirt driveway at the rental home and killed the engine. He got out and eyeballed his parking job.
Not bad for being a little drunk.
The official Rally hadn’t started yet (the bikers would start arriving en masse tomorrow) so there hadn’t been many people at Buffalo Chip that night. Most were fellow vendors, which had gotten him thinking about Tori.
When she worked the booth, she looked every inch the biker part in her tight shirts, biker boots, and blonde hair hanging in loose ringlets down her back. The middle-aged men, especially, seemed to flock to her. All day long she’d bring men to him. “Vince!” she’d say. “Marty here needs a Harley switch-mounted eCaddy Diamond in chrome. Tell him about the power options.”
She’d wink at the customer, as if sharing some great secret. They hung on her every word. Vince would ring ‘em up and send ‘em on their way, invariably poorer than they’d intended.
Their sales numbers had never looked better this early in the Rally. In fact, Tori was quite possibly the best booth-mate he’d ever had in eight years of working this Rally.
He let himself in through the kitchen door and locked it behind him. He crossed the room just fine but stumbled on the first step leading to the upper floor.
Oops.
Maybe he was more drunk than he thought.
At the top of the stairs, he paused. He took out his cell phone and re-read the message from Gretchen: This relationship isn’t working for me. I think it’s better to end things now. Best wishes for the future.
He’d received it an hour ago but hadn’t replied. What was there to say? It’s not like he’d been looking for something serious or long-term.
Still, it sucked being the one on the receiving end of a Dear John text—and then going to bed all alone.
He glanced toward the bedroom Tori was using. Now there was an interesting woman (even though he wasn’t looking for anything sexual with her).
Maybe she’d be up for a chat…
He went right instead of left and knocked on her door. “Tori! You awake?”
When there was no answer, he placed his palm on the knob. It turned under his hand and the door swung open. In the semi-darkness he could see Tori’s hair splayed across the pillow.
“Tori?”
He took the few steps to her bed and leaned over. The room tilted.
Definitely more drunk…
“Tori!” he whispered—or thought he whispered.
“Vince?” Her sleep-laced voice was rough.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“What are you doing?” she said.
“Can I sleep with you?”
“Huh?”
“Can I sleep with you?” he repeated.
One eye opened. “Are you drunk or just crazy?” she said.
“Maybe a little buzzed.”
The other eye opened and she squinted at him. “Are you coming on to me?”
“No!” He tried to look indignant, but that was hard to do when he was standing next to her bed. “I’m not suggesting a friends-with-benefits thing. I’m just… I thought it would be nicsh… nice not to be alone. Either of us. That’s all.”
“So you’re not drunk, just lonely?” she said.
“Right,” he said. “Wait—what?” His brain wasn’t tracking with her logic.
She shook her head. “Maybe I’m the crazy one, but okay.”