By Wednesday morning, the article was still being talked about around town, and although the worst of the panic had started to settle, I could still feel the damage whenever another customer walked through the door and glanced at me before speaking.
I hated that feeling. I hated wondering whether someone believed the lies. I hated wondering whether the next phone call would be another cancellation.
Most of all, I hated feeling like I needed to prove that Lawson Customs had always been exactly what it claimed to be.
A local motorcycle business. Nothing more.
I was standing behind the counter with a coffee in my hand when Mia walked into the office carrying a folder.
"I've got an idea." Mia said and I looked at her.
"That sounds dangerous." I said and she laughed.
"Maybe, but hear me
