Chance scratches his head. “Benji? You mean that guy who was crazy about Rebel?”
Kinsey nods.
I scowl at Renthrow. “What’s with Cordelia? How could she betray me like this?”
“If you weren’t dragging your feet, she wouldn’t meddle.”
“Ouch,” Chance smirks. “Go easy on him, Renthrow.”
“I’ll have you know that I already told Riley how I feel.”
Kinsey looks surprised.
Renthrow’s eyebrows pop to the top of his forehead.
“That’s great.” Chance slaps my back. “What did she say?”
I shrink back.
Kinsey looks sympathetic. “She rejected you?”
“She just…” I try to find the words, “looked really shocked.”
“Shocked-happy or shocked-horrified?” Renthrow clarifies.
“Shocked-shocked. She seemed to have a hard time processing what I told her, so I gave her time to think about it.”
Groans of disapproval break out.
“You never give them time to think,” Renthrow says knowingly. “Or else they startover-thinking.”
Kinsey nods.
Chance picks up his water bottle. “You should bring Riley to my proposal tonight. Even without doves and fireworks, it’s going to be extremely romantic. You can take her for a walk around the property and have a nice, long chat with her.”
It’s a great idea and I plan on taking him up on that.
“Enough chit-chat,” Renthrow grumbles. “If Max finds us shooting the breeze like this, he’s going to revoke our private training privileges and force us to run drills like the newbs.” Renthrow’s eyes slide to me. “No offense, Campbell.”
“None taken.”
We end our water break and get back to pumping iron.
As I focus on lifting weights, my mind returns to my relationship. Riley and I didn’t ‘fake a relationship’ but being her brother’s best friend made me extra careful with sharing my feelings. I’ve been holding back for fear of making her uncomfortable.
Now that the truth is out there, I don’t want to restrain myself anymore.
I want Riley Carter to fall for me as certainly as I’ve fallen for her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
RILEY
After I rush to the auto shop and open every shutter in anticipation of the client’s arrival, I send a mass text to all three of my mechanics.
Sure, there’s a ten percent chance that someone will surprise me and get here on time, but I’m not willing to risk it. I’d rather send an alert and hedge my bets.
“What do I need first?” I mutter out loud. “Shoot. I forgot to ask the client to describe the issue.”
