Page 3 of Kade
“I hear you, brother,” I say on an exhale. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll figure it out.”
Ransom grunts, “See you at family dinner. Call me if you need me,” then hangs up.
A chuckle makes its way out, despite my exhaustion. Fucker. He never says goodbye.
I dig the palms of my hands into my eyes, wondering how I’m supposed to drag myself away from the only place that feels like home. There’s no more putting this off. I know that tone of voice. Ransom will burn the garage to the ground if he thinks that’s what it will take to get me out of here, despite the sweat and blood we gave this place. He’d do it in a heartbeat and whistle as he walks away, flames erupting behind him like he’s the hero in some fucking action movie. No, there’s no getting out of it.
Looking at the shop in front of me, I almost don’t go in. My eyes feel so fucking heavy. I could be home in ten minutes and in bed in fifteen. I don’t even remember the last time I got over four hours of sleep in a row. There’s always too much to do.
But I’ve built this little prison for myself. I have to get the billing done for tomorrow’s pick-ups, or the guys will be fucked. I wonder again,why the hell haven’t I hired a new girl for the front desk?
The torture of hiring and training is why. I just can’t fit it in. I already feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water. But until I do find someone, running the office is on me.
I push my door open with a grunt and climb down, stopping as I realize there’s a car parked in front of bay three. I didn’t even notice it when I drove in. Too in my fucking head, too fucking tired. The boys know better than to leave cars out front. This isn’t the worst neighborhood in the city, but our insurance rates don’t need another damn car stolen.
I growl as I head toward it. “Lazy mother-fu…” My muttered curses stutter to a stop as I get a clear look inside, thanks to the security lights on the front of the shop.
There’s a person in there.
I bend down to get a clearer look and freeze. Not a person. A woman. Her curly brown hair is covering part of her face, but those lips, no fucking way would god be cruel enough to put lips like that on a man. I lean forward before I even realize I’m doing it. I need to see more. My eyes bounce to the long fingers clutching the blanket under her chin, to the dark slash of her eyebrows, before stopping at the silvery lines on her cheeks.
I back up like she’s a snake, rattle up, poised to strike. She’s been crying. My pulse speeds up, and I want to turn and run. Why the fuck is a woman sleeping in her car outside my shop? Why was she crying?
I can feel it rising like a flood. My need to fix things, to dig into her life, trying to suck me in, but I force the thoughts down. This is the last thing I want to deal with tonight. I will not get involved in another woman’s drama. Between the tears and the fucking car full of shit, she’s got trainwreck written all over her, and I don’t want to get run over again.
She’s got to go.
My heels are dragging as I head back over to the car.I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. It’s a constant refrain running through my head. I take a deep breath, then I reach out and bang my fist against her door.
3
BECCA
Iwake up with a scream. There, standing on the other side of the glass is a big dark form. I blink quickly, trying to get a better view, but all I can see is a silhouette. The stupid lights from the garage are behind the figure, creating a halo around it.
Crazy thoughts rattle around my sleepy brain. Is this a visitation? Are the aliens coming to get me? Am I gonna get probed? That last thought’s not as horrifying as it should be.
I’ve been in a bit of a dry spell.
My heart is pounding as I drag the keys out of the ignition and slide them between my fingers like pointy brass knuckles. A deep voice startles me.
“You can’t park here. You sure as fuck can’tsleephere. It’s time to go. Now.”
He’s got the kind of voice I normally would love. A voice that would give me shivers while whispering dirty things in my ear. But telling me to leave? Like I fucking want to be sleeping in my car in this deserted area?
Ya, I hate it.
I groan, trying to wake up and gather my thoughts. No way am I opening this door. I need to slow this down and get my brain firing. Shading my eyes, I roll my window down a crack. “Can you move, please?” I ask. “I can’t see you.”
I hear him muttering before he shifts away from my door, toward the hood, and ‘Hello.’ Now that’s a man. I’m no stranger to handsome men. I’ve wrestled around with literally hundreds of them.
But handsome is not the word I would use for this man. Powerful. Chiseled. Intense. Rugged. Those words don’t do him justice either, but they’re the best I can come up with at—I squint at my phone—2:37 AM. He’s got dark hair curling around the collar of his black plaid shirt. His granite jaw is shadowed by the day’s stubble. I can see the muscle twitching in his cheek.
Oh, you’re annoyed, sexy man? Too fucking bad.
My eyes travel down his throat, lingering at the open V of his shirt before skimming over the powerful arms exposed by the rolled-up cuffs. I fucking love when guys do that. He’s wearing dark jeans, the material faded where it strains against his thick thighs.
He clears his throat, and I shoot a look at his stormy face before I pull my eyes away and clear my throat.
