Now it was my turn to stare.
Sure, Avery was well off but was sinking close to what the car was probably worth even... well, worth it?
Not many people who didn’t have a passion in car restoration would agree. There were plenty of things that could go wrong during the process, leading to more headaches and cash being burned.
“I don’t think you’re understanding me,” I said.
He laughed. “I’m understanding you perfectly fine, Brandon. I can afford it, trust me. The only hold up would be if you’re willing to work on it for me. If not, then yes, I’ll probably just end up selling it as-is like you suggested.”
“What? Why would I be the only one you’d be willing to have work on it?”
He shrugged. “I trust you. And I trust that you won’t needlessly fuck up because you are looking for a bigger paycheck. Like I said, I can afford whatever you want to charge me. But Ihatepeople wasting my time.”
Well, I guess I couldn’t fault him for that.
I had no idea what Avery did for a living now, but given his expensive looking suit, expensive car, and overall bland attitude when it came to money, led me to believe he was somewhere in the financial world.
Probably running it, no doubt.
Still, wasn’t it kind of sudden to be asking me to help him with this project? After all, we barely knew each other any more. How was he to know I wasn’t some kind of grifter now?
“You’re awfully confident in my skills,” I mumbled.
He leaned closer to me, barely a hair’s breadth between us as he said, “Why won’t you let me trust you?”
My heart slammed in my chest.
Oh god.
Why the hell was this happening?
I was supposed to be over this two fucking decades ago. Hell, I was never supposed to fall for a straight man to begin with. And now here I was, doing the same goddamn thing all over again.
Was my heart content with never learning?
Or was I some kind of closet masochist?
“Uh...” I needed to get away from him. Put some distance between us before I did something monumentally stupid like asking him out on a fucking date. “It’s not...”
“Not what?” He tilted his head, those stupid blue eyes of his that always reminded me of sapphires, staring back at me patiently.
“I have a job. To do.” Even to my own ears, my words were stilted. “At the shop.”
“Do you run it by yourself?”
My head shook mechanically.
“Okay, how about this. I fund whatever your shop’s paycheck would be for the next however long it’ll take you to look at all of these cars, restore them, and then fix them up for me to sell. How’s that sound?”
My jaw dropped to the ground. “Myentireshop... Avery, you’re fucking kidding me. I’m not letting you do that.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“You—I.” What thefuck. “I have customers.”
“Okay?”
Oh my fucking god. This man.
