She snorts. “Right, and I’m a tap-dancing crab.”
“You usin’ that same charm on Phoenix?”
Aspen stills just for a second then shrugs one shoulder. “I won’t chase someone who doesn’t even like me.” Her tone is flippant, but I can tell it hurts her.
“He—”
She holds up her hand and gives me a fake smile. “It doesn’t matter. I’m happy workin’ with you, and I’m happy watching you try to find your own happiness outside this damn truck.”
Aspen turns up the radio, and I watch as she tries for normalcy. My heart hurts for my friend, and even though I felt like Phoenix heard me—I can’t be sure he’ll act on it.
“I can hear you worrying from here, and it won’t help cut up that watermelon I lugged over from the market.”
“I don’t remember you being this grouchy,” I tease, and she bumps me out of the way with her hip.
“Too much sunshine,” she says with a curve of her lips, the smile not reaching her eyes, but I don’t call her on it.
“All right then,” I say, turning my focus back to the task at hand, “what’s left to do?”
19
[Social Media Post from the Taste of Magnolia Food Truck]
(Picture of pulled pork sliders and watermelon salad)
Pulled pork sliders are the perfect pick-me-up today! They’re served with a refreshing watermelon, cucumber, and feta salad for a limited time!
#supportlocal #tasteofmagnolia #magnoliapoint
Unknown: I can’t believe we’re still being subjected to this. Magnolia Point deserves better!
20
CORA
The back door of Lowcountry Automotive is unlocked when I turn the handle, the dim light and soft hum of the machines now comforting as I step inside. It smells like motor oil, and while I would have balked at it before, all I can think about is the way it mingles with the smell of pine and sunscreen on Talon’s skin.
The heady, masculine scent has me borderline feral, and I can’t remember a time I’ve ever reacted like that to a man. Maybe it’s our muddied history or the way I loved to hate the way he got under my skin, but either way, Talon Banks is becoming everything I never wanted.
And absolutely everything I need.
“I brought dinner,” I say, leaning against the doorframe. “Have you eaten?” Talon’s eyes lock on mine before taking a leisurely perusal of my body.
“I’d like you instead.”
Standing straight, I pout as I look into the takeout bag. “But I slaved over this meal for you.”
“Did you?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs, the invitation clear.
Dropping the bag on the desk, I move the papers to the side and sit on the worn wood top and watch as Talon pulls himself closer until he’s nestled between my thighs, his big, calloused hands running from my ankles to the hem of my cutoff shorts.
“I promised you a truth,” I say, a little breathy as I watch him touch me.
“You did,” he says smoothly, his hands still running their course, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Which one do you want?”
“Were you out on a date last night?” The question is a low rumble, his fingertips gripping my thighs and pulling me closer to the edge of the desk.
