“Dinner’s on us, Kylie,” Kane cuts in, and before I know it, he’s wrapping a friendly arm around my shoulders. “Put your order in, and we’ll have your tire changed out and you back here before your food’s ready.”
“It’s really going to be that quick?”
“Five minutes, tops,” Rook answers. “You don’t even have to get out of Kane’s tow truck.”
“Why don’t I just wait here, then?”
“Sorry, Kylie.” Kane pretends to wince. “Need you to sign on both ends of the tow. But I promise it’ll be quick, and I’ll even let you choose our music selection.” Kane punctuates the promise with a waggle of his brows.
Holland’s intensity at my side is enough to make me agree. “Okay, fine. But I better not end up with cold takeout.” I have a feeling if I push, he’ll be volunteering to hang out with me while I wait, and for some reason, that makes me feel shaky.
“Thanks for the offer, Holland, but don’t worry about me. Don’t delay your dinner any more than you already have.”
“All right,” he agrees. A perfectly friendly smile is plastered across his lips, but it feels as fake as my press-on nails. “I’ll see you around, Kylie.”
“Hey, Ky. Sorry it took me so long tonight,” Gemma comments as if summoned. “What can I get you?”
I turn to offer Holland the opportunity to order first, but he’s already out the door, no food in sight.
My brow wrinkles as I turn back to Gemma, Rook and Kane standing sentry at my side. “Oh, uh…no problem. I’ll have the skins, the burger with tomato, pickle, lettuce, and no onion, and, what the hell…give me an order of the fried wings too.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I do my best to bring this interaction with the intense hockey brigade back to some level of normalcy. “You guys want something? I can put it in with my order.”
Kane looks primed to answer, but Rook beats him to it. “No. Thanks.”
I shrug, turning back to Gemma. “That’s all, I guess. But hey, I have to run a quick errand with these guys, so if I’m not back yet when it’s up, you mind leaving it under the warmer?”
Gemma smiles. “No problem.”
“Thanks, girl.”
Kane leads the way out the door, and Rook waits to follow me from behind. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way, but I don’t dare look back or say anything. Everything with him feels so pointedly precarious.
When we get to the parking lot, most of the fancy cars are gone, even though the majority of the patrons inside are still there, and an eerie feeling blows across me like the wind.
Rook steps around me and holds out a hand, cutting the feeling mysteriously short. “Keys?”
“She’s all yours,” I say, dropping them into his hand with care. Our fingers just barely brush, and a consuming feeling runs through me, so intense my eyes water and my nose stings. I swallow hard and force a step back as he spins on harsh feet and gets to work.
I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too. Or if all this stress and confusion have me truly losing a grasp on reality.
The tow truck lights blink as Kane guides my car onto the lift and secures the chains in no time at all. Rook helps me into the cab before climbing in himself, and Kane gets behind the wheel, officially putting me in a Slater brother sandwich for the ride.
If Alyssa were in my shoes, she’d be focused on finding a way to turn the close proximity into a three-way.At the very least, talk one of them into licking her kitty or something.
I literally feel my cheeks heat from the thought, and I discreetly glance at Kane and Rook, fearful that I did something crazy like say the words out loud.Or, I don’t know, that my previous wish came true, and Rook can read my freaking mind.
But all I find is Kane smiling and nodding along to the song on the radio and Rook stone-faced and staring out the window.
Cal’s garage is only a mile or two up the road, and I’m still surprised at how efficient they are as they get my car off the tow.
When I was sixteen and a brand-new driver, Gammy’s car broke down on the highway, and I had to use AAA. It took the manhoursto get there and hook it up, much less drive me to her house so her neighbor could fix it for her. Maybe he was obnoxiously slow, but the Slater brothers are exceptionally fast.
It’s truly impressive watching them, and watching Rook, especially, is something else.
I observe from the cab through the rearview mirror as he unhooks my car and pushes it back into the bay, studying the parts of his body his grumpy face usually precludes me from. His hands are big and strong but finessed, and the muscles in his forearms are chiseled like tan stone. His white shirt is stained with use, and his hair drifts effortlessly onto the skin above his eyes.
He’s not sweating, but even without a sheen, he emanates a surprising glow.
