“I agree,” a deep voice that doesnotbelong to Carlos, Jimmy or Blade rumbles behind me. “Hello, Riley.”
Chapter Eight
NATHAN
She doesn’t yelp or screech when I step into her garage, which I find peculiar. The younger Riley screamed her head off if so much as an owl hooted outside the window.
But this Riley?—
The Riley I confused for a woman I might like to get to know?—
She doesn’t scream.
The only hint that she’s surprised lives in the way her eyes widen slightly and her fingers coil into fists as if she’ll swing first and ask questions later.
“Nathan.” She says my name breathlessly, like I’m a ghost she’s afraid to startle.
Her fists remain in their punch-first state.
I guess I earned that.
“Hey.” I approach her. She’s wearing a navy jumper unzipped at the front to reveal a tight blue tank top, similar to the one she wore at the fair. Her hair is up in a ponytail with two pieces hanging in front of her face. There’s something dark around hereyes, something that makes them pop like warm honey in the sunlight.
Not that I notice.
Or care.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I say, though she clearly wasn’tthatstartled.
“You didn’t,” she says. I expect her to follow that up with a ‘what are you doing here’, but instead, Riley says, “This is just like you. I should have known you’d get right to it.”
I don’t know what she means by that. “I hope you’re not too busy. I wanted to catch you before your shop opened. I figured we’ll both be pretty swamped this week and I didn’t want to delay this conversation.”
Her eyes shutter and she steps back. “Right. A conversation.”
“Well, that and an apology.”
“From me?”
“No, from me.” I step forward.
She tilts her head, batting her eyelashes. Have they always been that thick? They’re dark too, just like the outline of her eyes.
Focus, Nat.
I shuffle my feet in front of me, waiting for her to say something and put me out of my misery. Or at least say something that will make this less awkward.
But Riley keeps her mouth shut and just looks at me, refusing to bail me out.
I’m a worm on a hook.
Squirming, I blurt it out. “I’m sorry, Riley.”
“For what?”
“I should have recognized you.”
“Oh.” She starts to smile.
