Tonight’s offer to drive her home. Friday’s event invitation. They both left room for a no, but soon, they won’t take no for an answer.
I climb into my truck and sit there longer than I should with my hands tight on the wheel. I tell myself I’m not going to cross the line. I tell myself I’m not going to get involved.
But when I pull out my phone and look at the list in my notes app…
Flat Tire
Private Event
I know I’m lying.
Kylie
I awaken harshly to the sound of a garbage can banging into the ground and bolt straight up to sitting in bed. The numbers on my alarm clock taunt an hour that rubs—six a.m., and precisely thirty minutes before my usual wake-up—so bad it hurts.
The sheet is creased into both my arms like I slept motionless, and a crust of mouth-breathing drool tugs at the corner of my lips.
Lovely.
I scrub at my face with the sheet—one I’m washing tomorrow anyway—then mash my palms into my eyelids like I can physically shove the exhaustion back where it came from. I’m so worn thin lately, it’s starting to feel like I work for a prison warden—
Another bang ricochets against my window, and I rocket-launch out of bed.
Shit, shit, shit, I forgot to put the can at the street last night!
I take off like the roadrunner in a blur of legs and arms throughout the otherwise quiet house.
Destination: garage.
I slide on bare feet as I round the corner of the hall, unlocking and ripping open the door at warp speed and leaning out to hit the opener. Alyssa is a dead sleeper, thank God, or she’d be running out here with her brother’s pellet gun she keeps under her pillow and lighting me up in her sleep-infused hazeorquestioning, for the thousandth time, why in the hell I can never remember to put the damn trash at the street—a roommate-agreed-upon job ofmine.
I jump down three steps without taking a single one of them, jarring my knee when I hit the cold concrete floor, and working swiftly to recover as I run and duck at the same time, sliding under the still-lifting panels.
On a mission, I stumble out from under the door on fawnlike legs that are nowhere near ready for this level of athleticism and lose what little fraction of control I had left. I bob and weave and trip and careen, the frightening hard surface of the driveway coming toward my face in a terrifying rush.
Oh hell! I’m going to eat concrete in about two seconds.
But at the last moment, I run into a wall of hard muscle and leather gloves.
Rook’s leather-covered hands set me back to vertical slowly, his eyes falling to my barely covered chest with unconcealed interest.
I follow his gaze and silently gasp. An unswallowable knot grows in my throat as I realize I was so tired last night, I went to bed in nothing but boy shorts and my lace bra—an outfit I’m still sporting right now.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, mortification making itself known in the heat of my face. Instantly, I try to shield my lace-covered boobs by crossing my arms over my chest, but it’s freaking useless. If anything, it’s only making the situation more…booby.
Rook’s jaw tightens like he’s fighting a battle he didn’t ask for.
“Sorry, um…”God help me. This is so awkward.“I woke up approximately sixty seconds ago to the unfortunate realization that I forgot to bring down my can. I know I’m a thorn in your side with this thing every dang week.”
“I know.” His voice is gruff when he responds, and his eyes look like smoke and haze as he works to lift them from my spilling breasts. It’s a battle he nearly loses in every facet, and for the first time in a while, I feel a joyful twinge at being ogled. “I was getting it for you.”
The admission is so surprisingly friendly, I startle. “You were…you were getting my can for me?”
“You always have a full can.” His voice is rough and heavy with something severe. “Another week without garbage pickup, and the whole neighborhood would stink.”
I deflate a little, disappointed that we’re back to brusque, judgmental Rook this quickly. I know it’s naïve, but I really hoped he’d made some progress last night toward not hating me so much.
“Well, thanks, I guess.” I swallow, trying to act normal while I’m basically in lingerie on my driveway. “I’ll really try to remember to put it out Monday night next time.”
