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She’s silent for a moment, probably chewing on her words. I can see it by the way she bites her bottom lip; I’ve gotten under her skin.
Not that I’ve paid attention enough to notice those quirks.
“What about Michael?”
Even at this angle, I can see her spine stiffen.
“What about him?”
“Seemed like he was cozying up pretty well when I was around.”
“I amnotgoing there with you.” I can see her cheeks flame and while I chuckle under my breath, something dark inside me stirs.
“So, I shouldn’t expect a wedding invitation?”
She hands me the wrench back and I hand her the next size down. Not that I already knew what she’d need, or anything. Call it a lucky guess, fueled by me already finishing the other side before I asked for her help.
“Michael and I are friends,” she declares to the undercarriage of the car. “Nothing more. If he wants that, then that’s his business, but it doesn’t mean I have to be accepting.”
“Your mother sure liked him.”
“Then she can marry him.”
“So, it has been a topic of conversation.”
“Why are you pushing me?” she snaps.
“I’m not pushing. You volunteered that information yourself. I merely made an observation.”
Right now, it’s like we’re kids, again. She’s only twenty-three. So fucking innocent and naïve, she’d blush at anything I’d say to her. Those pretty fucking eyes would still sparkle when she’dlook at me—me, of all fucking people—and I actually had the gall to think that maybe I could keep her if I tried hard enough.
She scoffs, sliding out from under the car and standing off the creeper.
“You’re still an asshole.”
“And you’re still a brat.”
I grab the wheel, securing it back in place and she watches as I run the lug nuts in with an impact.
“You want to try?”
Hesitantly, she holds out her hands and I give her the impact, resigning myself to the fact that I like seeing her delicate hands covered in grease.
I motion for her to kneel on the ground beside me and take her hands in mine—big mistake—aligning the tool with the lug nut and pressing in.
“Press the button,” I murmur, voice gruffer than usual. She notices because her tongue darts out to lick her lips and my cock presses against my jeans.
She does and we drive the lug nut in place together. Except when it’s done, neither of us moves.
She’s too fucking close. I can smell her. Feel the heat off her skin. I can see the little gold flecks in her eyes, despite how tired she looks.
I don’t know this girl. Not who she is now. This Hannah is broken. Scared of something. She’s running from a past I was thoroughly removed from.
Fuck . . . it would be so easy to lose myself in her for a couple hours. Remind her why we fit so well back then. Forget about the outside world and the bullshit with the cartel. Reclaim what would have been mine.
But—
“I’m . . . uh . . .” her cheeks flame and that moment passes.
