“Heyyy there,” she says slyly. “Will you be free at lunchtime? I’ll bring you a sandwich—as payment of course for this story that you are going to share,” she explains.
“Can you take a break today,” I ask, hoping that she will tell me that she can’t. My hopes are dashed with her response.
“Oh yes, I hired a part-time position— I’m free as a bird. For an hour or so,” she exclaims gleefully.
“Great,” I say, unenthusiastically. She laughs. “See you in a couple hours,” she says. I can almost picture her rubbing her hands together mischievously. Before I can respond, she ends the call.
I pull out my laptop and power it up. I had a few things to get done for clients. The donut shop needed a few designs for social media to get her through the week, the adventure company needed some copy written for their website. I threw myself into the work for a bit. Then I turned to my inbox.
I delete a few junk e-mails and respond to others. Finally, I make my way to the e-mail that I don’t recognize. I open it and need to read it twice, before it registers in my brain.
Did you get my note? I meant it. Too bad about your truck.
I instinctively look around, like the person that wrote these 13 words will be somewhere in the office. All of a sudden it seems a bit cold. The door is pushed open and I jump. I sigh and relax quickly. It is Piper, she has come with lunch. She doesn’t notice my distress, and I recover quickly.
“So, what did you bring me,” I ask her. From the looks of the bag, it looks like she ran across the way to the farmers market and picked up something.
“I grabbed you their special, chicken salad on a croissant and some banana pudding,” she sets the bag down on the conference room table and begins to pull things out. I stand up and walk the few feet to the door.
“Sounds great,” I exclaim. I am thrilled that she picked up my favorites, but my brain is still stuck on the note, the email, my truck. She can tell I’m distracted, because she stops and looks up at me, arching her eyebrow.
“What is going on with you? You seem off today,” she muses and continues to study me. I don’t know if I want to tell her about all of this stuff yet. I don’t want to blow this out of proportion yet.What if it is something though,my brain whispers the question. Shaking my head, I respond to her question.
“Nothing is wrong, I’m just a little tired— and stressed. I didn’t expect to pay for a truck repair this month, that is all,” I explain.
She takes what I say at face value—for now. We have known each other for a long time. She will see through that explanation soon.
“Speaking of, spill— I want all the details about last night,” she demands. She sits down and pulls her burger towards her. I can’t tell if she is salivating over the food or if it is the anticipation of the gossip, but I cave and begin.
Chapter 8
Sterling
“So you spent the night—in the spare bedroom,” he asks disbelievingly. He knows that normally when I take a woman home, we don’t sleep separately. We don’t do much sleeping at all. I look at Holt and grunt in frustration.
“Jesus, Holt! I don’t fuck unconscious women. Besides, I don’t think I’m interested in her like that,” I say as I slide under the truck to drain the gas tank. He chuckles as he wipes his hands on a rag.
“Sounds to me like you are— she has you all turned around. If you weren’t interested in her, you wouldn’t have stayed the night and you sure as hell wouldn’t be her fucking chauffeur,” he is grinning to himself smugly.
“Shut up, you asshole. I can’t wait until it is your turn. I’m going to give you hell,” I grind out as I slide out.
“She is just a pain in the ass—I can’t figure her out,” I continue on frustratedly. “I don’t know anything about her, I have been in her presence for less than 12 hours for chrissakes. I’m sure I’ll lose interest,” I mutter.
Holt starts cackling loudly. “Sure you will, who are you trying to convince,” he asks as he pokes his head back underneath the hood. “Whoever fucked with this truck had no idea what they were doing,” he says.
He is right. It is a hack job. Not only did they try to cut the wires they also poured some shit into the gas tank. She islucky that the battery died when it did, otherwise the tainted gas would have ruined her engine.
“It will take a couple days, but it is fixable,” I say simply. My mind is racing, why would someone fuck with this girl. She seemed harmless. Holt voices the thoughts running through my mind.
“So, is this girl into some shit she shouldn’t be,” he muses out loud. He drags one of the stools over and sits on it and looks at me. He runs and hand through his hair, which is a few shades lighter than mine, and his blue eyes glint in curiosity.
“I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type, but I guess I don’t have all the facts yet,” I admit grudgingly.
“Well, we can’t let her handle it alone so you better figure your shit out soon brother,” Holt commented wryly. He was right, this wasn’t exactly something she could handle solo, and the local PD isn’t exactly helpful.
“I know, well when I pick her up this afternoon I’ll see if I can get some intel on the situation, she seemed shocked when I mentioned someone would fuck up her truck deliberately,” I shared with him.
“Where does she live anyway,” Holt questions. He is quirking his eyebrow at me. I know what he is thinking. He is wondering about security.
