Next to Never
Page 11
I was impressed, though. I half expected her to call for help. She and I were alone here now, after all. Maybe that loser guy she was with would bring some friends over to send me on my way with a few threats? But no . . . as far as I could see, she hadn’t called anyone. She just got to work on my car.
Smart kid.
I nodded to the bulletin board, which had a five-by-seven portrait of a brown-eyed boy—about six months old—pinned to it. “Is that your son?”
She jerked her head back down at me, as if just noticing I was there. Her expression turned guarded, but she glanced at the picture before quickly turning back to her job under the car. “That obvious?”
I watched her, thinking about how hard it must be to raise a child at her age. I couldn’t imagine whoever the father was being much help. Especially if it was that piece of shit from the other night.
“He has your eyes,” I said.
“And my ex’s temper,” she stated in a clipped tone. “I can tell already.”
Ex. “You’re too young to have exes.” I blew out a stream of smoke and dropped the butt, grinding it out with my shoe.
But she just ignored me.
I stepped into the garage, my suit coat open, and my hands in my pockets. “Do you go to college?”
She glared at me. “Customers aren’t supposed to be in the garage.”
But I ignored her and keep pressing. “You don’t want to work here for the rest of your life, do you?”
“I have to work, College Boy,” she bit out. “With a kid to support, I don’t have time for school.”
I wanted to laugh at her spunk, but I held it back.
She came out from under the car, tossed down some tools, and pressed the hydraulics button, lowering the car again and looking impatient.
“My son is about the same age,” I told her.
“At home with the wife?”
And I held her gaze, all humor gone from my mood. She was smart, I’d give her that. Strolling slowly over to her, I pulled my hand out of my pocket, taking her license with it, and tossed it on top of the toolbox in front of her.
“Talking to a woman who isn’t my wife isn’t a crime,” I said, stating it like a threat. “Trying to steal my property is.”
She stood there, staring at the license with her name and address on it, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. Now you’re scared, aren’t you?
“What do you want?” she asked.
“What do you think I want?”
Her breath shook for a moment, but then she turned her face to me, clenching her teeth so hard, I could see her jaw flex.
“An apology, of course,” I said as if what else could I possibly want from her.
“I want you to leave.”
“Then you need to finish my car,” I shot back, my eyes falling to that little black smudge on her slender neck.
Her eyes turned angry, and she hesitated. But she popped the hood and got back to work. I turned and headed for the other side of the car, leaning against the toolboxes and crossing my arms over my chest.
I knew I should just leave. She was scared, and she already had it rough enough.
Just get in your car, go home, and leave the kid alone.
“What are you going to do?” She leaned over the car, upending an oil container into the engine and letting it empty. “Why are you here?”
“How long have you been married?” I asked, ignoring her question.
I saw her swallow and then answer quietly. “A little over a year. But I’d barely call it a marriage anymore. I’m trying to get a divorce.”
“Trying?”
“It’s none of your business.”
No, it wasn’t. But I was making her my business.
“And you thought what you were doing was healthy?” I charged. “Letting him get you caught up in criminal activity, so he can get money to get high?”
She shot me a scowl while leaning over the car and pouring in another bottle. “And you’re any better?” she replied, her tone getting harder. “Don’t think I don’t know what you want. You would’ve called the police already if justice was what you were after.” She stood up, grabbing a cloth to wipe off her hands. “No, you think I’m vulnerable and you can take advantage.”
No. That wasn’t what I wanted. I wasn’t trying to prey on her.
So why the hell was I here then?
“Isn’t that it?” she taunted, walking slowly toward me with a look in her eyes. “Does it turn you on—the dirty trailer park girl? You think I’ll be wild, don’t you?” She stepped up to me, her breasts brushing against my crossed arms. Leaning in, she dropped her voice low and sexy, and I could feel the heat of her body. “That’s what you’ve been thinking about, isn’t it? At church on Sunday, giving your clean wife a clean kiss on the check”—she offered a small smile—“you were thinking about my ass and how dirty and good and naughty I’m gonna feel . . .”
My breathing sped up, and I stared at her full bottom lip, feeling like I’d suddenly gotten myself into trouble.
Licking her lips, she leaned in further, whispering, “Pathetic fucking college boy. You wouldn’t know what to do with this ass.”
And then she rolled her hips, barely brushing mine in a little tease, and I groaned, my breath shaking. The contact sent my body reeling, and I was fully hard and hot with need.
She pulled away slowly, a smirk on her face, because she knew what she was doing to me. She might be a tough little scrapper most of the time, but the girl could be sexy as fuck.
Smart kid.
I nodded to the bulletin board, which had a five-by-seven portrait of a brown-eyed boy—about six months old—pinned to it. “Is that your son?”
She jerked her head back down at me, as if just noticing I was there. Her expression turned guarded, but she glanced at the picture before quickly turning back to her job under the car. “That obvious?”
I watched her, thinking about how hard it must be to raise a child at her age. I couldn’t imagine whoever the father was being much help. Especially if it was that piece of shit from the other night.
“He has your eyes,” I said.
“And my ex’s temper,” she stated in a clipped tone. “I can tell already.”
Ex. “You’re too young to have exes.” I blew out a stream of smoke and dropped the butt, grinding it out with my shoe.
But she just ignored me.
I stepped into the garage, my suit coat open, and my hands in my pockets. “Do you go to college?”
She glared at me. “Customers aren’t supposed to be in the garage.”
But I ignored her and keep pressing. “You don’t want to work here for the rest of your life, do you?”
“I have to work, College Boy,” she bit out. “With a kid to support, I don’t have time for school.”
I wanted to laugh at her spunk, but I held it back.
She came out from under the car, tossed down some tools, and pressed the hydraulics button, lowering the car again and looking impatient.
“My son is about the same age,” I told her.
“At home with the wife?”
And I held her gaze, all humor gone from my mood. She was smart, I’d give her that. Strolling slowly over to her, I pulled my hand out of my pocket, taking her license with it, and tossed it on top of the toolbox in front of her.
“Talking to a woman who isn’t my wife isn’t a crime,” I said, stating it like a threat. “Trying to steal my property is.”
She stood there, staring at the license with her name and address on it, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. Now you’re scared, aren’t you?
“What do you want?” she asked.
“What do you think I want?”
Her breath shook for a moment, but then she turned her face to me, clenching her teeth so hard, I could see her jaw flex.
“An apology, of course,” I said as if what else could I possibly want from her.
“I want you to leave.”
“Then you need to finish my car,” I shot back, my eyes falling to that little black smudge on her slender neck.
Her eyes turned angry, and she hesitated. But she popped the hood and got back to work. I turned and headed for the other side of the car, leaning against the toolboxes and crossing my arms over my chest.
I knew I should just leave. She was scared, and she already had it rough enough.
Just get in your car, go home, and leave the kid alone.
“What are you going to do?” She leaned over the car, upending an oil container into the engine and letting it empty. “Why are you here?”
“How long have you been married?” I asked, ignoring her question.
I saw her swallow and then answer quietly. “A little over a year. But I’d barely call it a marriage anymore. I’m trying to get a divorce.”
“Trying?”
“It’s none of your business.”
No, it wasn’t. But I was making her my business.
“And you thought what you were doing was healthy?” I charged. “Letting him get you caught up in criminal activity, so he can get money to get high?”
She shot me a scowl while leaning over the car and pouring in another bottle. “And you’re any better?” she replied, her tone getting harder. “Don’t think I don’t know what you want. You would’ve called the police already if justice was what you were after.” She stood up, grabbing a cloth to wipe off her hands. “No, you think I’m vulnerable and you can take advantage.”
No. That wasn’t what I wanted. I wasn’t trying to prey on her.
So why the hell was I here then?
“Isn’t that it?” she taunted, walking slowly toward me with a look in her eyes. “Does it turn you on—the dirty trailer park girl? You think I’ll be wild, don’t you?” She stepped up to me, her breasts brushing against my crossed arms. Leaning in, she dropped her voice low and sexy, and I could feel the heat of her body. “That’s what you’ve been thinking about, isn’t it? At church on Sunday, giving your clean wife a clean kiss on the check”—she offered a small smile—“you were thinking about my ass and how dirty and good and naughty I’m gonna feel . . .”
My breathing sped up, and I stared at her full bottom lip, feeling like I’d suddenly gotten myself into trouble.
Licking her lips, she leaned in further, whispering, “Pathetic fucking college boy. You wouldn’t know what to do with this ass.”
And then she rolled her hips, barely brushing mine in a little tease, and I groaned, my breath shaking. The contact sent my body reeling, and I was fully hard and hot with need.
She pulled away slowly, a smirk on her face, because she knew what she was doing to me. She might be a tough little scrapper most of the time, but the girl could be sexy as fuck.
