Page 87 of The Price of Love

I walk around the privacy wall that separates the garage workspace from the makeshift back area. Jazmin is kneeling next to the back tire of her motorcycle.

“Hey,” Jazmin calls when she sees me. A huge smile lights up her face. “Watcha doing here?”

Not ready to answer, I say, “What was all that clanging?”

Jazmin stands and holds up her torque wrench. “I was having trouble with my axle nuts.”

I grin. “So you threw your wrench?”

“No!” She swaggers toward me. “It slipped outta my hand.”

I’m happy to have a reason to glance at her hands. There’s something about the character etched into them that pulls me in. “I’m having trouble believing that. Not with your big, powerful hands.”

She grins and holds up one of her hands. “I don’t know. Seems like there’s something I can’t seem to hold on to, no matter how hard I try.”

Heat crawls up my neck. Message received. I pretend it wasn’t. “What are you working on?”

A flash of disappointment flits across her eyes. “Got new tires for my bike, so I’m taking the old ones off.”

I smile and nod toward the speaker sitting on the workbench. “Nice choice of music.”

She twirls the wrench in her hand. “Busted?”

I nod.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to catch me. I’d lose my cred with the other girls.”

“Good thing it was just me then.”

“Yeah, really good thing.”

We’re now standing only a few feet from each other, and I feel the heat from her body, or maybe it’s the heat coming from inside me. “I wanted to thank you again for Saturday. For looking out for me.”

“It was my pleasure.” She reaches out and runs her fingers over my injury. “Bump’s just about gone.”

“I’ve got a hard head.” I knock on my skull on the side opposite my wound.

“Still. I never wanna see you bleeding like that again.”

“I’d prefer not to, either. How about you?” I consider taking her hand, but I think better of it, so I nod toward it instead. “How’s the hand?”

She holds it up and opens and closes it a few times. “Tender, but it’s all good.”

“Rumor has it you broke her jaw.”

“Good. She deserved it.”

My chest tightens. “But what if she calls the police?”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can’t, but it’s Wednesday. If they were gonna come for me, they would’ve already.”

“But you can’t be sure.”

“Ain’t nothing in life a sure thing, but I’m feeling okay about it.”