I enclose her in my arms as she lets out a gasp of surprise and tries to wiggle free.
“Nat,” she hisses, “what if someone walks in and sees us?”
“Let ‘em.”
She laughs and wraps her arms around me too, sinking her head against me. Then she shifts her head the other way. Andthen she tries to rise on her tiptoes to meet the crook of my neck and shoulder, but she’s not tall enough.
Riley leans back with a scowl. “Why are you so muscular? And so tall?”
“The height happened without my consent. And the muscles… I’ll work on some belly fat when I retire.”
She laughs and tilts her head up to me.
Her eyes are sparkling like stars and I lean down, but I get a crick in the neck halfway there. I imagine that kissing Riley will give me all kinds of neck issues.
But I’ll gladly embrace that pain.
“Nat, you were telling me about Layla,” Riley says, knocking thoughts of kissing her out of my head.
Right.
I release her from the hug, but I don’t want to let her go, so I slide my fingers down her hand and lead her to the desk. Leaning against it, I interlock our fingers and face her while I tell her everything—from the moment Layla first came to town until the last call in the parking lot of the mart.
When I’m done, Riley’s eyes are two, burning flames. “So you’re telling me that Layla is threatening to ruin April’s surprise proposal?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s angry with Chance because he moved up the proposal, so she might try to get revenge by telling April?”
“I don’t know what she’ll do.” I blow out a breath. “I wish I could keep an eye on her. I’m the only one who can talk her down and I don’t mind her messing with me if it means that Chance can propose without issues, but I have training and I can’t miss it.”
“Leave Layla to me,” Riley says in a scarily calm voice.
“What are you going to do?”
Riley’s lips inch up, but it’s not a warm smile. It’s kind of terrifying.
And it reminds me that this is a woman who attended a predominantly male trade school, worked on planes in harsh conditions, and runs her own mechanic shop.
“I’ll handle her,” Riley says, again in that still, formidable tone.
I know better than to ask any more questions.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
RILEY
I inform my mechanics that I’ll be out for two hours and to only call me if the garage is going up in flames or someone’s being rushed to the hospital.
Then I make a few calls.
My last call is to Chance McLanely.
“Hello, Chance,” I say, pulling on my seatbelt as I speak. “I’m Riley Carter. You and I haven’t met yet but?—”
“Oh, hey, Riley.”
I pause when I hear the friendliness in his voice.
