MICAH: Does the school know about you? Girl, you’re dangerous. Fuck knows what you’re going to be wearing.
SIENNA: Ugh, please don’t come.
Now,I’m intrigued.
A palm slams against the back of my head, taking me out of my forming fantasy when a deep chuckle follows. “Who you talkin’ to?”
My brows clinch as I glimpse over my shoulder to find Owen at my side. “Your mom, dickhead.”
His brows lift in faux shock. “Oh, yeah? She’s dead, prick.”Fuck, I knew that. Forgot.“But you can tell her I said hi when you go to hell because that’s probably where she is.”
I power down my screen because I can’t fuck around and tease Sienna when I got Owen eye-ballin’ me like a freak. “What do you need?”
“You finish that Buick?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He crosses his arms along his white-clad chest. “Charge her an extra twenty bucks for ruining my lunch yesterday. The damn broad wouldn’t stop talkin’ about when her car was gonna be fixed, and it got cold.”
I gape at him because that’s not going to happen. “I fix the cars. I don’t deal with the customers.”
He scoffs through his nose. “Yeah, but they’ll deal with you. Broad loves a bad boy in tattoos.”
“You have tattoos.”
“But I have an attitude. And she ruined my lunch.”
“You said that.” We have a ten-second staring contest before I say, “I’m not in charge of?—”
“My lunch, Wolfe,” he repeats for thethirdtime. “She bitches about it, she goes toyou.”
“Whatever, dude.” I roll my eyes and lean up against a Dodge Challenger we’re making modifications to. “Anything else?”
Owen, the prick.
If he weren’t a decade or so older than me, already moving around kinda slow, and could possibly still throw a decent punch, I’d beat the shit out of him.
Because the douchebag hollers out for the boys, and this is going to open up a conversation I’m not looking to have.
“Hey, Micah’s talkin’ to some chick, fellas!”
My fist slams into his bicep, getting him to stumble back and out of my way because he’s not ready for another. It still doesn’t stop the evil laughter that brews from his chest, though.
“What’s that?”Graham, the best friend.“Yo, you talking to Sienna again?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…who’sSienna?” I watch Dylan, some twenty-year-old heartthrob who comes in the shop every Monday yakking about some chick he banged and how we’re supposed to be impressed or something.
“Shut up, kid,” I censure with a glare. “Go finish that truck up.”
I get bumped in the next second, the only one doing that being my best friend.
“Dude, you still going at it with Sienna?” I don’t know what he means bygoing at itbecause I didn’t tell him shit about what Ididwith Sienna, but that I was talking to someone. I don’t remember mentioning her name, but maybe I did.
“It’s not a big deal,” I tell the space of dudes who suddenly just surrounded me. “Can we get back to work?”
“Man, you need to follow that up. You haven’t been with someone since Laura.”
I wave a dismissive hand in the air. “Alright, that’s enough.” I send another withering glower in everyone’s direction. “Y’all need me to call Tony and tell him you guys are having pow-wows and shit?”
