“I got a show in Portland tonight.”
Red snorts and takes the tool cart I’d just pushed out of the way and flips it over with a quick flip of his wrist. The sound resonates off the walls, tools crashing to the concrete floor with a loud bang. “If that’s more important to you, then go!” he roars back at Rawley, keeping at least five feet between them. I think he’s so close to punching his brother the distance is needed.
Rawley narrows his eyes at Red, glowering at his older brother. And then he walks away without saying anything.
Red glares at
me
. “It’s like his fucking mission in life is to piss me off.”
I’m confused. He said
his
, but he meant me too.
I give Red some time alone, mostly because he walked out back and I remember the time in the parts room and that particular verbal lashing. When he walks away, he needs his space.
“I can stay and help,” I say to Red when he returns. My voice is hesitant because I have no idea what his mood will be like after the seizure and then Rawley and him getting into it again.
He stops what he’s doing for a second and there’s a flash of surprise. A touch of anger… no, actually, it’s hurt. He catches himself quickly, smooths the expression out. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do? I wouldn’t want you to regret it tomorrow.”
“Oh, my God.” I groan. “Don’t be an asshole. It’s not the same thing. I tried to be honest with you and you’re just throwing it in my face. If you don’t want my help, fine, I’ll leave, but you don’t have to keep being a dick about it.”
Where the hell did that all come from?
I even surprised myself with that rant.
When he doesn’t say anything, I get visibly flustered as my blood pressure rises. He just stands there and continues to stare at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. I have.
I decide to try a different approach.
“You definitely know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?” There’s a sexiness to my tone that has his attention. Yeah, I’m trying to act that way. I want him to be just as annoyed.
He turns, walks backward a few steps watching me, and then turns back around. His voice is harsher than before, full of a bitterness that I’m beginning to get used to. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I follow him. “Why are you being mean to me today? I’m trying to help here.” My voice lowers. “Is it because I stopped us from going any further last night?”
He snorts, picking up a handful of tools from his cart and begins putting them back in his toolbox. “Maybe you should just do your job and stop trying to figure out what my problem is.”
Jerk. Asshole. Dickhead.
I could go on here. And in my head, I do for a few seconds.
“You don’t—” I’m just about to tell him off for being such an asshole when he beats me to it.
“Don’t worry about it.” He throws down a wrench and slams the drawer closed, beginning to walk away, again, his shoulders tense. His body language is telling me to stay back, but I’m not a very good listener. Clearly.
“I will worry about it because you were being nice to me and now this…. I’m only trying to help.”
He turns on his heel and faces me again, irritation lighting his face. “You’re trying to help? What exactly are you trying to help me with? You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He stops himself, his brow scrunched. He wants so badly to say more; it’s etched in every single emotion flashing in his eyes. But he doesn’t.
Suddenly, I blurt out the one question that has been on my mind since last night.
“Why’d you kiss me?” I ask, wanting to know how he can go from hot to cold so fast.
“What are you doing?” He ignores my question searching my eyes for an answer he assumes I have. “Why are you so insistent on making this so much harder for me? You told me it was a mistake and that it meant nothing, but you keep bringing it up.”
“Harder for you? You’re the one who has been treating me like shit and then kisses me like I’m just supposed to spread my legs for you. Is that why? You’re mad because I didn’t fuck you?” It’s a pretty low blow, but I say it anyway. Apparently, I’m losing my mind because I can’t believe I’m saying these things to him.
His lips purse immediately. His face and the way his eyes are stone cold and bleeding with an invisible pain when we make eye contact give him away. I want to know his pain because finally, I’m not the only one experiencing this.
“I cannot believe you would say that to me. Is that really who you think I am because if so, then you don’t know
anything
.” He’s so angry that his confidence and pride waver. He’s breaking a little and I can see it’s making him uneasy. He wants to show me I don’t know what I’m talking about, but his stubbornness gets him too. He’s not one that gives up easily. “I told you I hadn’t been with a woman since my wife died, let alone kissed one and now you’re standing here accusing me of wanting you to fuck me as part of your job description. I can’t believe you would even suggest that to me.” He turns, leaving me with that verbal chastising but I don’t let him and grab his arm.
“Red.” I sigh. His name on my lips is something he wants to hear because his face twists when I say it, the words washing over him. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” His expression is suddenly livid, as if that one remark sets him off. His eyes search mine, the darkness colliding like waves crashing against a rocky shore.
“Be this way.” My eyes dip to his chest, so tense his muscles seem tight and rigid underneath his oil smudged, gray T-shirt.
“What way? This is me.” He backs away about a step, dropping his hands to his side. “You’re the one fooling yourself.”
I blink at his harshness. “You’re being an asshole.”
“It’s not a way. It’s me. I
am
an asshole. Took you long enough to figure it out.” When I take another step back, he knows I’m angry with the words, but he doesn’t stop. “I can’t be anything you’re hoping I will be. It’d be a goddamn disaster.”
I swallow over my irritation. “I’m not looking for anything from you but a job and maybe a little respect,” I say.
“You
have
a job,” he laughs, but it’s condescending. “Respect is earned.”
“Stop being a jerk to me then.” I’m not about to argue with him about the respect part because I know damn well I’ll probably never have that from him.
Annoyance flashes in his eyes, and then he walks away. I watch his back and then my eyes drift lower.
So sexy.
I’m so damn angry at myself because as mad and hurt as Red makes me, the attraction toward him never fades. We stand here and argue to the point where he turns his back and walks away from me and all I can think is he’s got the best ass, and I’m jealous of every woman he’s ever been with. So jealous.
When Red returns with three bottles of brake cleaner, he notices I’m still there, leaning against his toolbox.
“And you’re still here.” Red sets the cans on top of his toolbox and stares at me when I don’t move. “What do you want from me?”
“You.” You can’t miss the sadness in my tone, but it also doesn’t stop him. Oh God, I said that, didn’t I?
He hears me all right, but doesn’t let his emotions show on his face. “Everyone else has gone home for the day. You should too. I’ve got work to do and the last thing I need right now is you standing around. I get you. You didn’t want to kiss me. Message received.”
He’s trying to hurt me. He wants me to leave him alone, but it doesn’t hurt me. Well, maybe a little, but he doesn’t know my truth and I know he wants to. He does. It’s displayed in his eyes. He wants to know why I’m that way. Why I’m denying what is obviously happening between us. I’m not sure I have an answer for him. I’m not even sure I know anymore. Or if I ever did.
When I don’t answer, he cocks an eyebrow at me. With a low chuckle, he leans down to pick up the wrench that fell earlier. Tossing it in his tool cart, he waits for a second, giving me another chance to convince him otherwise. I don’t. I’m not sure what to say right then. “Are you just hanging around to torture me?”
Looking at him now, I see right through his bloodshot eyes. He wants me to believe that nothing happening today is affecting him. The truth is, he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and it’s pretty obvious by his behavior right now he’s over it.
I realize I’m being an idiot and say, “I’m not trying to. I’m sorry. I’m just here because I want to help you finish this job. I’ll finish the car in my stall and then help you out, if you want. Let’s just get this done and I’ll get out of your face.”
“Do whatever you want, Lenny.” And then he turns to walk away.
Glancing outside, I notice the weather has taken a turn for the worse and Red goes over to close the shop doors and then flips the radio on. The rain and wind pick up, blowing gusts of water under the door just as he’s closing them. Once they’re shut, you can hear them flexing with the wind, creaking, bending and moaning as the metal shifts against the pressure.
A slow country tune flows through the shop and I begin to relax.
Wearing my usual jeans and flannel tied up around my waist, an hour later, I finish up the car in my stall after trying to figure out where the rattle is coming from. People and their goddamn rattles. They sometimes forget these are cars made of metal and plastic and when you’re going down the road and all that plastic is flexing, it’s going to fucking rattle.
When I’m finished with the Explorer, Red’s watching me, his hands on the hoist.
“Help me out here,” he says, nodding to the engine he has ready to take out of the car in his stall. “I need an extra hand and you’re distracting me.” He turns facing the car, and then back to me. “Might as well help out.”
My first reaction is to be defensive and say something bitchy in reply, but when I take a second I realize he’s teasing which means he’s starting to relax. I’m not gonna lie, I breathe a small sigh of relief before crossing my arms over my chest. “So let me get this straight. First you don’t want me here, now I’m
distracting
you and you now
want
my help?” I decide to tease right back, trying to make light of everything that we just said an hour ago, but it’s slightly entertaining the look that comes over his face.
“You know damn well that you’re distracting me.” And then he steps closer, his brow scrunched in determination. “Now are you going to help me or what?”
For every part of me that knows pushing Red away is the right thing, there’s an equal part of me who can’t let him go.
“I don’t know. Are you going to ask me nicely?” I step forward, coming to stand in front of him.
What the fuck am I doing?
He stands in front of me now, crossing his arms over his chest, there’s the faintest of a grin tugging at his beautiful lips I desperately want on mine again. He leans down to whisper in my ear. “Lennon.” Oh God, the way my name rolls off his tongue nearly brings me to my knees. “Would you please do me the pleasure of helping me?” He then pulls away and stares into my eyes.
Warmth creeps up my neck coloring my cheeks. He’s read my mind, hasn’t he?
He takes a step back, waiting for my answer.
When I don’t say anything, his eyes narrow. “Are you going to make me beg?”
I sigh. “All right, no need to beg.”
He looks back at me over his shoulder as he steps toward the engine again. “I’m not the kind of man who believes in making a woman beg and I’m definitely not the kind of guy to force a woman to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
“I’m sure.”
I can’t see his face when he says, “It’s a good thing you’re not wearing those shorts again.”
I roll my eyes, following him. “You and those shorts.”
He stops and I nearly run into his back when he does this, whirling to face me, his chest pressing into mine. “Stop teasing me.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Sorry.”
I take a seat on the stool near him, waiting for him to tell me what he wants me to help him with.
“I just need help guiding it out to make sure none of the hoses get stuck.” He motions to the engine.
It’s clear he doesn’t need my help and that makes me smile too. He wants me in here with him.
We work in silence for the most part, but it’s unbearable as it usually is around him. So I start asking questions.
“Who’s watching Nova tonight?”
“She’s with my mom tonight.” Red stands and reaches inside the fridge not far from his toolbox to remove two beers. He hands me one. “I don’t know what I’d do without my mom. Being a single parent isn’t exactly easy when you’re trying to run your own business.”
I take the beer he hands me. “I can’t imagine it is. How long have you been a mechanic?” I ask, realizing I don’t know much about him and his passion for working on cars.
He looks back at me over his shoulder as he’s staring at the engine on the hoist we just pulled out of the car, surprised by the question. “Well I wanted to be a mechanic since I was old enough to turn a wrench.” He steps back from the engine and reaches for a shop rag on his toolbox. “I once took an engine apart when my dad was at work. I was ten, maybe.”