“Oh, yeah.” I lean back in my chair. “Mum calls about once a week to remind me I’ve made a terrible mistake and to convince me I should come home. She mentions how badly I need her and Dad’s money every time.”
He nods, frowning like he’s processing my words. And I admit it’s a lot to process for me, too. I still can’t decide if myparents are against me fighting because they think I’d be better off running their business someday, or if they simply have no faith in my fighting abilities.
No faith in me.
To them, I’m nothing but an embarrassment.
“Logan! Bash!” The youth pastor approaches us, sauntering over from across the breakfast hall. He has long, dark hair in dreadlocks and a wide smile I can’t seem to hate, much as I try. “Glad to see you here.”
“What’s good, Hayden?” Logan grins at him. “Guess who will be back here Sunday morning, bright and early?” He elbows my side. I want to kick him.
Hayden’s eyes widen. His grin transforms into a laugh. “No way! Bash, that’s awesome. I’ll save you a seat next to me.”
“No,” I cut in. “No, really, you don’t have to do that.” This is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid. I refuse to start getting finagled into this lot’s inner circle. To become part of this small town’s community without my permission. But as much as I’d like to get out of coming back on Sunday, I can’t help but feel obligated to attend in exchange for Logan taking a look at my car.
“Nonsense.” Hayden slips his hands into the pockets of his baggy cargo pants. “See you Sunday!”
“Yeah.” I nod, hoping he’ll mistake my grimace for a smile. “Yeah, I guess you will.”
I mingle for a bit longer before telling Logan, “It’s time for me to go, mate.”
He nods, pulling me into a one-armed hug. “Thanks for coming, man.”
I don’t linger another moment. I make for the exit, practically sprinting in the car park for my Camaro.
And barrel headfirst into someone carrying a cooking pot.
Before I can process what’s happened, the contents of the pot splash over her shirt and face, soaking her.
I swear loudly. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
The woman blinks in surprise several times and sets the pot on the ground. She stares down at her ruined white T-shirt for a moment before glancing up at me.
My breath catches in my throat as I take in her face, deep bronze and heart-shaped, framed by her hair, which looks like a jet-black curtain of ink spilling around her. Her eyes are a vivid green that do funny things to my body. A few noodles from the—soup, is it?—stick to one side of her hair, yet she still might very well be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“It’s no problem,” she says.
No problem? She can’t mean that.I don’t answer immediately, still struck by her excruciating attractiveness. I clear my throat. “I find that hard to believe. Look what I’ve done to you.” I pluck the noodle off the end of her hair and show it to her.
She giggles. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve wasted your dinner.”
“It’s not mine.” She bites her lip, making blood rush through my body. “It was for the soup kitchen.”
I frown. “Oh.”Nice. You really are a winner, Bash.
But she offers me a lopsided grin. “Thankfully, they’ve already eaten. These were just the leftovers.”
“Still,” I say. Her gaze locks onto mine, drawing me in, so I take a step closer. “At least let me take you out to make it up to you.” My own words give me pause.What am I thinking?I don’t do relationships, and I don’t have much right now, but I’d gladly spend what little cash I have left from my watch on her.
“No, don’t worry about it.” She shakes her head, but that smile still lights up her face. It’s the kind of smile that makes me feel happy just from looking at it. Infectious.
She picks up the pot and regards me once more, tilting her head sideways and squinting through thick lashes. “Bye.”
I reach out a hand toward her involuntarily. “I?—”
But she’s already gone, halfway across the car park toward a white sedan. And I’m left staring after her, wondering who on earth she is, and why I suddenly feel the need to find out.
