“Are you seriously offering to do my repairs for free, but telling me I’d have to be just a little bit patient for them?” I make the motion forlittlewith my forefinger and thumb.
“I can’t promise there won’t be any charge, but it should cut down significantly on Wyatt’s labor charges, sure.”
This man defies all logic, all I’ve come to know about what to expect from men. His offer is so insanely kind, but he owes me nothing and keeps doing me favors. It’s too much. I refuse to be a charity case any more than I already have been.
“Weston, you can’t. I’m not your problem to solve.”
“I can’t what? Be nice? Be a good neighbor? I can tell that wherever you came from, whatever history you have that I don’t know about… I know it left you jaded and sure that the world is full of dicks. And it is, but that’s not all there is out there. Especially around here. People in Smoky Heights look out for one another. Help each other. Yeah, sure, they snoop and overstep, and they talk—God, do they talk—but this isn’t someulterior motive from me. I like working on motors. I like you. I don’t mind helping you get back on your feet.”
His lips tilt up in that wholesome way of his that makes me certain he’s one of a kind. His kindness, sincerity, the way he gives himself wherever it will help out, even if that’s just a smile, he’s too good for this world. Too good for my tainted self.
Weston keeps talking, his low voice rumbling in a way that warms something low in my belly as he goes in for the kill shot. “It’s okay to say yes when you need help sometimes, darlin’. Doesn’t make you weak.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times, not sure how to even respond to that. I’ve been alone since I became an adult. Help is a foreign concept to me. Being seen as weak or incapable of handling my own shit is something I never want to live through again.
Breathing out through my nose, words slip out of my mouth before my brain gets to filter them. “You have to let me repay you somehow. I’m not a charity case.”
That didn’t sound as appreciative as it could’ve, if we’re nitpicking, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. Those green eyes of his, like fresh grass after the last frost, damn near sparkle as they watch me.
“I’d be open to some sort of barter system,” he throws out playfully.
“Barter?” I echo. “What the heck do I have that you could want?”
His eyes move rapidly across the shop, intentionally away from me, and I realize that’s a stupid question. There’s something he desperately wants from me. Same thing I want from him. But he’s not asking for me to pay him with sex.
Lifting a shoulder again, he says, “You could help me paint if you’re not busy with programming.”
“Like, tell you true crime stories while you work to keep you entertained?”
“More like you paintwithme, so we get the jobs done faster and I can come here and work on your van.”
“Yeah, listen, I’m really not much of a painter. I might be good with detail-oriented work on a keyboard, but having to cut in ceilings and baseboards sounds like literal torture to me.”
“Says the one who listens to gruesome podcasts detailingactualtorture. Is that what Binx talks about? Victims who were made to paint trim before their systems just quit and they flatlined from the sheer horror of it all?”
“Binx?” I can barely say the word through my uncontrollable laughter.
“Isn’t that her name?”
“She’s not a cat from a 90s Halloween movie. Her name is Jynx.”
“Same fucking difference.”
“It is not!”
He leans in closer to me, ass still resting against the car, but face now directly in front of mine.
“That is theexactsame, and there is no way you’re being serious right now. You know that’s the same, right?”
I place my palm against his face, dig my fingers into his cheeks and forehead, and shove him back with a laugh.
“Rule number one if you want me to paint with you, is you don’t disrespect Jynx.”
He stands straight, holding one hand up like a damn Boy Scout. “I solemnly swear to respect the sanctity of the high holiness of true crime podcasts, all that is gory, her royal highness, Jynx.”
“That’s a start,” I say, nose in the air.
“What are the other terms of the barter?” he asks, brows raised in amusement.
