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“Dude’s been stranded since three.” An innocent shrug is wedged between statements. “I was his Hail Mary pass.”
“He’s gonna need to say a Hail Mary after meeting you,” Rabbit teases, convincing me to shift my stare back to her. “Speaking from experience, I’ve said at least ten. This morning.”
“You’ll be sayin’ ten more if you distract The Kid from workin’ today.” There’s no room for argument in my tone. “Understood?”
To no surprise, Bunny isn’t given a chance to answer due to Kipp speaking up. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t come to me if you need something, okay?”
“Need not want, Rabbit.”
“I need you two to calm the F150 down.” Her eyelids leisurely close. “It’s too early, and I’m too sore for this shit.”
Gotta admit.
There are only a few things I love more than a woman well fucked by me.
And I get the feeling my best friend being well fucked by me is gonna end up on that list sooner rather than later.
Deciding to leave on that note isn’t difficult. “Kipp,” I lock eyes with him once more, “you know how to reach me if you need extra hands here at the shop.” Before the thought can even creep into his mind, I add, “Not saying you will. I’m simply saying if you do, you know I’ll haul ass back here.”
He reluctantly nods.
“You know I’ll always haul ass back here for you.”
At that, Kipp grins a bit bigger and begins retreating towards the machine. “I’ve paid at least three tickets that confirm that, Sir.”
“I mean, yeah.” Making my way over to the front door is attached a flirty smirk. “They were your fault, Kid.”
His flashed middle finger is met by a chuckle and grabbing of my keys from the counter.
What’s normally a ninety minute plus drive gets whittled down to around an hour courtesy of backroads and bribed county cops. Over the years, we’ve come to a number of agreements in the areas surrounding ours. Handling their cars – company and personal – practically for free. Donating auto shop time for auctions. Tossing in sponsorship for athletic teambuilding bullshit. It’s all more or less above board and keeps me from having to pay attention to things like speed signs, especially when I’ve got a waiting customer.
Pulling up directly in front of the brunette male leaning against the hood of his luxury vehicle smoking a cigarette instantly instills an inexplicable uneasiness. Rather than immediately turn off my engine, I study the possible new client.
His over-moussed wavy hair.
His expensive shoes.
His tailored clothing.
His empty holster.
Something about this isn’t right.
What’s a man like this doing way the fuck out here?
In the middle of nowhere?
Is he lost?
Pretending to be?
Cautiously killing my truck and sliding out of my vehicle are followed by me asking the pale male the obvious question. “You Patrick?”
He nods.
Has another drag.
“Any idea what’s wrong with your car?”
