His eyes go wide, and he opens his mouth to defend himself, no doubt. I gesture it away. “I'm kidding you. We are absolute slobs, and my office manager had the audacity to have a child and go on maternity leave. And now we've been left likeLord of the Flies. Chaos reigns.”
His tentative smile is more attractive than it should be. “Yeah, at the mine where I worked, my tools and locker were always clean, and it bothered me when people left trash in my area.”
An idea takes form, but it's really so stupid that I let it go. He grimaces, likely misinterpreting my silence. People do that a lot.
“Do you know when you'll have an idea of the damage?”
“I've got Tony looking at it now, but it might take a while. Based on what I’m hearing and smelling, multiple systems are involved.”
Knox's face goes white. “Oh. I have a hotel reservation in Austin, but I guess I should try to find someplace here?”
“You’ll want a place you can stay for a couple of days, actually.”
I hope he’s at least got a credit card on him.
“Where ishere, anyway?”
“Well, you've landed in the thriving metropolis of Elgin, Texas. We’re known for our sausage and our one Sonic Drive-in. Try not to be overwhelmed by the awesome,” I say, finally getting him to crack a smile.
Talk about monumentally stupid.
I saw the pretty hair. I heard the cute queering of his country-boy accent. I didnotneed to see the smile. Or those dimples. Meanwhile, I’ve probably got grease on my face, and my clothes stink of oil and tire rubber.
I look down at my phone and pretend to update something on my calendar, then lean over to grab a Coke from Bev’s minifridge. When I face him again, his eyes hit the floor and his cheeks flush red. Was he checking out my ass?
I can't tell if I'm the luckiest son of a bitch alive or not. The only available guys out here are on the down-low, and I've already fucked all of them. If I need fresh meat, I hafta go into Austin, and I’ve been too busy for all of that.
I shake my head.No need to be a predator, Carter.And definitely stop thinking of him like he’s fresh meat. He probably just had all of his financial business blow up in his face with this ancient car he's driving around. Actually, the thought of him traveling in a car like that makes my stomach tighten. Not exactly safe, driving around in a twenty-something-year-old vehicle when you don't know jack shit about cars.
“So, is Austin your final destination?”
He shakes his head. “I’m moving out to California. Had the brilliant idea of taking my time and staying in all of the big cities I've never had a chance to visit before.”
I smile-grimace at him. “How's that going for you?”
He huffs out a small laugh. “Mixed results. Nashville was cool but weird. Atlanta was weird but cool. New Orleans was…interesting. I wasn't sober for most of it, so I couldn't give you a proper recounting. Houston sucked ass—mostly—and Austin’s not looking so good either. Though, I haven’t even gotten there yet.”
“Oh, man. New Orleans. If you remember everything you did in New Orleans, you weren't doing it right. So good job on that. Houston has always mostly sucked ass, except for their museums. And some of their restaurants. Austin's pretty cool if a little full of itself. But you’ll enjoy the bar scene, and the music is good if you catch it on the right night. I have a couple of suggestions for you should you find your way into the city at any point.”
“I’m kinda done with the bar scene. Besides, I’m only twenty, so I can’t quite enjoy it to the fullest yet. And if this isn’t a quick fix, I might hafta skip Austin altogether,” he says, looking at the stained concrete. As dangerous as his smile is, that brooding, worried look is damn near lethal. He could rake in the money if he were the kind to take advantage.
Somehow, I know he’s not.
Well, shit.Neither am I.
“We’ll figure out something for you, don't worry about it.”
He shifts, wary, and I briefly wonder what made Houston suck so bad for him. “You keep saying we’ll figure it out, but you also keep telling me that my engine pretty much fell out of my car’s ass back there.”
“It may well have, but to quote my father…did you die?” I ask, imitating his resonant timbre.
He laughs. “No. But I may have just spent the last year saving for a costly car repair instead of, you know, a new life out in California.”
“Why California?” I ask, trying to get his mind off his vehicular misfortunes.
“It’s as far away from West Virginia as I’m willing to go that doesn't have snow.”
“Was West Virginia really that bad?”
