Page 8 of Kade
“Foot off the brake.”
Wait a minute. Is this guy seriously going to try to push this car, loaded with me and all my shit, up into the garage?
Yeah, he is. Apparently without even breaking a sweat.
I realize my hands are hovering over the wheel and drop them into my lap. My help does not appear to be needed. At all. I watch wide-eyed as we get closer to the bay, then sneak glances at Kade’s face.
His face is remarkably calm, but I can see the effort in the bunching of his shoulders and the muscles of his arms popping and shifting. His scarred knuckles are white with the strength of his grip. It’s got to be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. His strength and focus. The confidence with which he guides the car into the empty bay, lining up the tires with the lift.
It’s all got me a little warm.
“There. Brake.” He holds his position until I shift back to park and turn the key off. I lean back in my seat and let my eyes travel up his now relaxed arms and settle my eyes on his.
“What’s happening?” I ask quietly.
Kade studies me, gathering his thoughts before answering. “You can sleep in the break room.”
How did he go from ‘you gotta leave’ to ‘sleep in the break room?’
“You are a very confusing man,” I tell him with wide eyes.
He snorts, mouth turned down. “Nah, I’m pretty fucking predictable.” Shaking his head he walks away. “Break room’s back here.”
I grab my blanket and phone and hustle after him. No way am I going to give him time to change his mind. I’m not willing to take money from him, but a night on the couch inside a building? That’s an upgrade I won’t fight about.
I catch up with him at the door to the break room. He flicks on the fluorescent light, then moves to the side.
There’s an old but clean-looking couch against the far wall, with a beat-up coffee table in front of it. Off to the left is a small kitchenette with a microwave and toaster oven. On the right is a small four-seater table that looks like it came straight out of the 1980s. The whole place looks really clean.
“This is not what I imagined the break room of a garage would look like.”
Kade raises his eyebrow. “Not enough grease?”
I smile. “Well yeah! Plus, there are no pinup girls on the walls. I’m kinda disappointed, actually.”
“I’m heartbroken,” he deadpans.
I laugh, then head over to the couch, giving it a test bounce before dumping my blanket on top. “Thank you for this. Really. I would be okay in my car, but I appreciate the opportunity to stretch out. This body,” I say, gesturing up and down, “is not built to sleep in a car.”
Kade’s eyes travel slowly down my body. He hums, then pushes away from the wall. “Bathroom’s here,” he says, then moves past it, tapping on the door just outside the break room. “Night.”
“Woah! Wait a sec. I have questions.”
He freezes, then exhales heavily, shoulders tightening. “Of course you do,” he mutters. I wait for him to turn around but resign myself to a conversation with his back when he doesn’t.
“Okay. So what time do I have to be out of here? When do the guys get here?” He turns to face me, crossing his arms over his chest again. The glare is back. Why the hell is he glaring now?
“Eight,” he bites out. Well, that tone of voice can suck it.
I raise my eyebrow. “Okay. So I’ll clear out by seven-thirty. I can go for a walk or something until you officially open. Will the door lock behind me?” The last thing I want is someone walking in on me while I’m sleeping. I feel like I kinda know the grump in front of me, but another guy? No thank you. So getting out before anyone else comes sounds like a brilliant plan to me.
“We have security cameras everywhere.”
“Okay…but how do I lock up?”
“I’m not giving you a fucking key.”
It’s my turn to growl. “I don’t want a fucking key. Did I ask for a key? I don’t remember that. Do I have temporary amnesia? Quick, ask me who the President is. Oh God, have I forgotten the moves to ‘Thriller?’” I put my hands in front of me and do my very best zombie dance. Pretty sure it looks nothing like the original dance moves, but it’s the best I've got considering I got kicked out of dance class in the first grade for giving Lukas a black eye. Little perv was trying to look up my skirt. What else was I supposed to do?
