Page 33 of Keeping Laryn
He took a step back but kept a hand on her waist. Then his gaze went from her face to her chest to her hips, her legs, and back up. Then he took a deep breath and leaned down to grab her coveralls, which were lying in a heap around her ankles.
“Step out,” he ordered.
Putting her hand on the car behind her so she didn’t repeat her near fall, Laryn obeyed.
He stood with her coveralls in his hand and reached for the door handle to the backseat. He threw the garment inside without a second thought, then turned back to her. He didn’t say anything for long seconds as he took her in from head to toe again.
“Should I put it back on?” she asked after a moment, worried that he thought she didn’t pass muster. That he’d be embarrassed to be seen with her. The cotton shorts and tank top weren’t exactly going-out clothes either, but then again, she didn’t really go out much at all, so what did she know?
“No!” he practically barked. Then he took another deep breath and said in a calmer tone, “No. You look fine. Great. Perfect. You might want to…um…pull up your top a bit though.”
Looking down, Laryn saw that her bra was peeking out a bit beyond the material of the tank top. Feeling her cheeks flush, she pulled on the tank, making sure it completely covered her. She fussed with it a bit, smoothing it down and brushing her hands over her thighs nervously.
“Now I feel frumpy,” Tate grumbled.
Laryn huffed out a breath. “As if,” she said under her breath.
But he’d heard. And he grinned. “I mean, I could take my flight suit off, but unlike you, I’m not wearing anything under it.”
“Nothing?” Laryn blurted, her imagination taking over as she envisioned him peeling off his garment, as she had hers.
“Well, I’m wearing some tighty-whities, but trust me when I say they aren’t nearly as sexy as what you’ve got on.”
Laryn rolled her eyes. “This isn’t sexy.”
“The hell it isn’t,” Tate said almost breathlessly.
They stared at each other for a long moment, the air feeling charged between them, before Tate nodded toward the bar.
“Come on. The guys’ll be worried if we don’t get inside. You look beautiful, Laryn. I never would’ve guessed my mechanic was hiding such an amazing body under those baggy coveralls.”
Then he took her hand in his, the grip tight, as if he thought she might run or someone might try to steal her away from him, and headed for the bar.
Tate opened the door, and it took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the brighter lights inside. It wasn’t totally lit up, but still much brighter than the outside had been. And to Laryn’s surprise, it was much busier than she might’ve expected for an hour before closing time on a weekday. She followed Tate without complaint as he wove through customers standing around drinking, toward a table in the back of the room.
Half expecting to overhear questions about why Tate had invited her, Laryn was pleasantly surprised to hear nothing but happy greetings as they made their way toward the other Night Stalkers.
“Casper!”
“’Bout time!”
“Holy shit, Laryn—is that you?”
She couldn’t help but sigh at the disbelief in Pyro’s voice. “It’s me,” she said dryly.
Edge abruptly stood and held the back of his chair as he gestured toward it. “Here, take my seat,” he told her.
Laryn could feel the blush on her cheeks, but she smiled at him and said, “Thanks,” before she sat.
She felt Tate at her back, and his fingers brushed against her bare shoulder for a split second, sending shivers all the way through her once more.
“Damn, girl. You are smokin’!” Buck said.
“Buck,” Tate warned from above her.
“What? I’m just sayin’.”
“You’re embarrassing her. Chill,” Tate admonished in a stern tone.
