I heaved my mind out of the gutter. “What was?”
“You saved me from Riley.”
Oh. The money. So I had read him correctly. “Yeah, well. I can commiserate.” My grudge against her knew no bounds. “But I could’ve covered it.”
“You weren’t prepared to spend over fifty.”
Damn him. “I was too,” I said stubbornly.
He gave me a flat look.
“I don’t appreciate that you thought I needed saving.” I stared out the windshield. He was overpowering otherwise. His size. That determined look in his eye. The way we seemed to be on the same wavelength during the auction. I had nothing in common with him but cheating exes.
Teller Bailey was a sexy man. A fact I’d never been able to deny. My hormones might’ve shut off when I had learned of my ex’s betrayal, but my arousal argued otherwise. Damien and the duds I had dated before him had given me a soft spot for hardworking, honest men intent on taking care of their loved ones. Bourbon Canyon was too small not to notice those traits in Teller.
If I hadn’t had to move back home, I could’ve kept my grudge against him fueled with nothing but memories of his outburst from years ago.
“Well, like I said, it’s a thank-you,” he said gruffly.
I could give him that. If I had to spend a day with Riley, I’d cough up five grand to skip it too. I kept my gaze hard when I faced him. The same fire wicked up my spine as it always did when I was this close to him. “Fine.”
His grin was slow.
A million butterflies took flight in my belly. How bad of a mistake had I made?
“When do you want me to report, boss?” That low growl of his... He was potent. Too alluring for his own good. And he knew it.
“I work the night shift, so I sleep until one.”
He frowned. “What time do you get off work?”
“Seven.”
“And you only sleep until one?”
I was perpetually tired. What could I say? “It’s only three twelves.” Three twelves per week that banked each other and became six twelve-hour shifts in a row, but it gave me a good stretch off to do things like renovate a bar I’d never planned on running. “And then I pick up extra hours if I can.”
“Right. You’re a nurse.”
“I’m not a nurse.” I swallowed my usual shame when I had to correct people. “I’m a CNA.”
He gave his head a brief shake.
“I help nurses.” And I got paid half of what they did.
“I thought you were in nursing school with Wendi.”
“I was.” My stomach cramped. And there was the reason for my mortification. Being a CNA was fine. It was hard, backbreaking work, but it was rewarding. It just wasn’t my choice of a career, but then nursing school hadn’t been either, and leaving school had been my decision. Ultimately.
He waited, but I didn’t elaborate. There had to be some limit to looking like an idiot around him.
“I work all weekend,” I said, “but if you want to stop in anytime between two and six, then I can go over what needs to be done.” I gave him a tight smile. His scent filled the cab to haunt me later. I’d have to drive with the windows down for a week to forget how good he smelled.
“You work tonight?”
My scrubs were in the back. Buy a bachelor with all my money and head to work. A normal day. “Yes. So, if you’ll excuse me.”
He let go of the frame of the pickup. “Monday. I’ll be there after work on Monday.”
