Page 13 of This for That (The Edge of Retaliation 1)
“How come you’ve never changed a tire?”
Because I’ve been in prison since I was sixteen.
“I’ve just not been in a situation where someone has had a flat, I suppose.”
His eyes flicker up in my direction, and then he focuses back on the car. “You new to town? Haven’t seen you around this area before.”
“No, I mean, well . . . I suppose. I used to live here when I was younger. I went away for a while.”
“Oh yeah? Where’d you go?”
Shit.
Shit.
“To, ah, California . . .” I hate lying. Despise it.
“Nice,” he murmurs, tightening the bolts before standing and putting the flat into the back of my trunk and closing it. “All done. You live around here?”
I nod. “Yeah, about ten minutes away. I’m just out today looking for a job.”
His brows go up, and he crosses those big arms. “Yeah, what do you do?”
“Anything. Literally, anything. I just want to work.”
He nods, and then says, “My sister owns a cafe. She’s looking for new staff. It’s over the road about two blocks down. It’s called ‘Cece’s Place’. Tell her Tanner sent you; she’ll no doubt be willing to talk to you.”
“Really?” I say, my voice going higher with my happiness. “Thank you so much.”
He shrugs. “Know how hard it can be to get a job around here.”
I smile and tuck the card into my pocket. “What do you do?”
“Mechanic. Ex-military. Few friends and I got a garage just around the corner. Keeps me busy.”
“That’s super cool.” I smile.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, studying my lips.
I’m suddenly very conscious of myself. Do I look good? Am I what men find attractive? I don’t even know what the style is these days.
The horrible truth is . . . I’m still a virgin.
I mean, I was when I went away, and obviously, I wasn’t going to sacrifice the V-card in prison. I don’t even know what a date feels like, let alone how it feels to be a with a man.
I do know that my body is very aware of the man standing in front of me. A dull ache is forming between my legs that is not going to leave me until I go home and make it disappear.
Yes, my body is ready for sex.
I just have no idea where to start.
“We’re havin’ a party this week, celebrating our first anniversary bein’ open. It’s for everyone. You want to get out, see the town and meet people, you’re welcome to come.”
Oh God. He’s inviting me out. I swallow, and say, “That sounds good.”
“Give me your number; I’ll text you the address.”
I give him my number. Jo got me a phone as soon as I got out, too. She said I’d never get a job if I didn’t have a way for people to contact me.
“Thanks, I’ll send you the address and then you’ll have my number, too.”
Oh boy.
“Great, thank you for all your help. I really appreciate it.”
He nods and says, “Catch you around, Callie.”
I watch him walk to his . . . motorbike! How did I miss that? It’s parked right in front of Jo’s car. I try not to eye him as he throws on a helmet and gets on the massive green machine and starts it. A loud rumble fills the street.
I keep my eyes on him as he disappears. Only when he has do I turn to the car.
Well, that was unexpected.
Maybe this isn’t going to be so scary after all.
“YOU ALREADY GOT A NUMBER?” Joanne cries, staring down at the card I’ve handed her. “How is this even possible?”
“I got a flat tire,” I tell her. “He fixed it.”
“You mean I got a flat tire.” She grins.
“Shit, yeah. I’ll get you another tire.”
She waves a hand. “Do not even worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. Now, tell me more about this mysterious guy. Was he hot? Rugged? Rich? Talk to me.”
“He was hot.” I nod. “Rugged. Rode a motorbike.”
“No shit!” she cries. “How awesome. Did he have tattoos?”
“All. Over. Him.”
“Oh God,” she squeals. “My poor vagina!”
I laugh. “Calm down over there. He invited me to some anniversary party for his garage, if you’re up to join in?”
“When?”
“On the weekend.”
“Do you think he has hot friends?”
“Honey, you’re married.”
She huffs. “Doesn’t mean I can’t look. I’m totally in, anyway. I’ll check Patrick doesn’t have a date lined up, but I’m sure he doesn’t. I’m all over this.”
I grin.
“Tell me you’re going to climb that man like a damned tree?”
I snort. “Not . . . not likely.”
“Come on, you’ve been in prison for so long. You must be desperate for a man.”
I purse my lips. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one.”
Joanne doesn’t know this about me. She has no idea I’ve not been with anyone. To tell the truth, we all told tales when we were young, about having sex and being with men, but it was just that for me…a tale. The conversation hasn’t come up again since, obviously we had better things to talk about when she visited me in prison.
