8
Connor
“Anthony, turn that shit off.”I reach over and swipe the volume on his phone. “You have terrible taste in music.”
Anthony stands in front of an open tool locker, picking out what he needs to pull the dent from my fender. He pauses what he’s doing just long enough to flip me the bird, then goes back to choosing tools.
“Don’t act bad because you think you beat me yesterday.” His voice bounces off the metal and floats back to me. I’m sitting on a stool beside my truck. I’d offer to help, but I know nothing about cars.
“I did beat you yesterday,” I argue, watching him scratch the back of his head. He reaches in for one more item, then pulls away and nudges the closet door closed with a booted foot.
“Next time will be different,” he warns, dumping the contents of his arms on a bench. I wince at the loud sounds of metal clanging together. He picks through it, grabbing what he needs first, and points the tool at me. “Next week you might not have a reason to spar.”
“Something tells me I will,” I grumble, shifting on the uncomfortable wooden stool.
“Is Brynn really that bad?”
“Yes.”
“I think you’re just that affected by her.”
I shoot him my death glare and he holds up his hands. “Hey, man, I’m just calling it how I see it. You haven’t been this upset by someone sinceyou know who.”
I look off to the other end of the shop, where one guy has the hood of a car lifted and he’s bent over the engine. Another guy rolls around under a truck.
“Don’t be pissed,” Anthony says, right before he plugs in a machine and applies it to the dent.
“I’m not.” Not at Anthony, anyway, for pointing out what I already know. I’m pissed off at myself for even caring about Brynn in the first place. She has given me no indication I should be developing feelings for her. I’ve been alone for a while, and I miss being with a woman. In walks a gorgeous, mysterious girl and I want her. It’s pretty simple to understand, almost like a fucking equation.
Anthony looks at me from his seat in front of my truck. “Go get lunch for us. I’m hungry, and you’re paying.” It’s a fair trade, considering he’s not charging me to do this work.
Reaching into his pocket, he tosses me his keys. I leave the shop and find his car in the small parking lot. Anthony is shorter than me, so I have to adjust the seat and mirrors. That should make him really happy.
I’m craving Chinese food. When I get there, I place an order for takeout and sit on a red leather chair near the hostess stand, waiting. The big front window looks out onto an intersection. While I wait, I alternate between reading an article on my phone and looking out the window. The fourth time I look up, I see light blonde hair across the street. Shoulder-length. A tank top I’ve never seen before hugs every inch of her chest, but it’s too far away to read the lettering on the front. As I watch, Brynn chooses a table and smiles at a server when they come over. She places an order without taking the menu being held out to her. When the server walks away, Brynn pulls a book from her purse and opens it.
“How much longer?” I ask the hostess, who I’m pretty sure is also the owner.
“Ten minutes,” she answers, wiping down a menu and inserting it into the cubby connected to the side of the hostess stand.
“I’ll be back,” I mutter, getting up and pushing open the door. The little bell rings behind me.
The Walk sign says Do Not Walk, but there aren’t any cars coming, so I cross anyway and jump up the curb onto the sidewalk. Brynn’s back is to me. She tucks a stray hair behind her ear and turns a page.
“Hi,” I say, touching her shoulder.
She shrieks. Snatches my hand. Her nails dig in, and hot pain flashes across the top of my hand. She looks up at me and lets go.
“Fucking hell,” she whispers angrily. Fury fills her eyes, her jaw flexes.
But I saw it.
Before she was angry, she was terrified.
“Brynn, I… Fuck, I’m sorry.” Cautiously, I step around the table and grip the top of the blue wrought-iron chair.
Her eyes are on the table, so I dip my head, trying to get her to lift her gaze. She won’t. Instead, she places an open palm on her chest and takes deep, even breaths. She finishes, and only then does she meet my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Connor. I overreacted.” She looks shaky, but I think she means it.
