My stomach rumbles, and my spirits sink lower. I get up and go to the window. Down the street, there’s a flickering neon sign—Mable’s Diner. Fucking of course it is. My stomach groans again, and I mutter to myself as I grab my purse and room key and head out into the night.
4
Rowan
Back at the shop, I pour a splash of whiskey into a cleanish mug. It goes down easy, and my nerves calm a little. It’s not that I’m bent out of shape, and it’s not like my damn feelings are hurt by the little brat with daddy’s Aston Martin. It’s that being alone with her in a motel room had me as close to a snapping point as I’ve ever been. My nerves aren’t shot because she’s offended me or pissed me off. I’ve dealt with way, way worse that her flippant attitude, believe me.
My nerves are shot because being around Annabelle has me aching to touch her. Being close to that girl has a fire raging inside of me that I haven’t felt in a long damn time. Possibly ever. I pour a second drink, and I take my time with this one. I walk over to her car to take another poke around at things and make a list of what I need to order for parts. It occurs to me that her car alone is worth more than my entire shop, and I shake my head slowly.
I make my list and down the rest of my drink before I move to the old ’74 Bronco I was tooling around on when she first walked in. This one’s a special job for my buddy Carter. Carter does private security now, but he served in the Corps with me and Joaquin. He’s a man of many talents, but Joaquin works at the shop with me these days, along with Levi, a young guy who used to run with an MC. Between the three of us, there’s not a thing on wheels we can’t tune or fix up, and word is finally starting to spread.
I’ve still got Annabelle on the fucking brain, but I try and mask it by working on the Bronco. It’s a fixer-upper for sure, but she’s gonna be a beauty when I’m done with her. What Carter doesn’t know is that I’m doing this for free. I mean the guy saved my ass at least a couple times over in Afghanistan. It’s the very least I can do.
Working on cars always clears my head, but it’s not working tonight. Tonight, even under that Bronco on the roller tooling around with the front axle, all I can think about is Annabelle. To be specific, all I can think about when it comes to her is the sight I walked into back there on the highway. That skirt riding up high over her tight ass, and that pink thong splitting it down the middle. My brain replays the snapshot it took, and I growl to myself as I go over the details. Her smooth, creamy skin. Her toned legs and curvy ass. The little cleft and mound where the panties tucked tight against her pussy.
My cock swells in my jeans, and I grind my teeth. Shit, maybe I do need to get this damn job done as soon as I can, so I can get her out of this town. I’m not sure I’ll get a damn thing done with an off-limits temptation like that hanging out in the same zip code as me. I try and clear my head again and focus on the Bronco. But just at that moment, the bell on the front door to the shop dings.
“We’re closed!” I yell from under the truck. I hear footsteps come into the garage from the front room, and I sigh heavily. “I said we’re closed, buddy. We’ll be here at nine tomorrow morning though.” I hear a throat clearing. I frown and glance down between my own feet, but when I see a pair of strappy black heels, I grin. Very interesting.
I slide out from under the Bronco, and sure enough, there’s Annabelle looking down at me with a white paper bag clutched in her hands in front of her. She’s put a cardigan on over her tank top, but she’s still in her heels and skirt, with her long hair half braided and over one shoulder.
“When I said I’d have it fixed quick, I didn’t mean an hour.”
She smiles sheepishly. “I kinda wanted to apologize. I was a bitch earlier.”
“Kind of, yeah.” Her eyes go wide, almost indignantly, and I grin. “You’re not used to hearing that.”
“I’m not usually a psycho bitch like I was earlier either, to be fair.” I shrug, and she clears her throat again. “It might help if I tell you who I am.”
“I know who you are.”
She looks surprised. “You’re not intimidated by that?”
“Intimidated?” I smirk. “Sweetheart, you’re like a hundred and four pounds soaking wet.” She blushes a little, and I find myself wondering if it’s because I said she was soaking wet. I feel my cock twitch in my jeans, and I wonder just how dirty a girl little miss prim and proper is hiding under that cardigan. “And no, I’m not.”
“I mean because of my father.”
“Why would that intimidate me? He got a thing against me fixing your car?” I joke.
She rolls her eyes. “No, because of who he is.”
“I’m not intimidated by job titles. Or by money, sweetheart,” I growl.
She smiles and shakes the bag in front of her. “I went to Mabel’s.” I laugh heartily, and her smile grows wider. “It’s chicken and waffles.”
“This a peace offering?”
Annabelle nods sheepishly. “Sorry again for before. Really.”
“It’s fine. Takes a little bit more than a spoiled little rich girl to throw me off.”
She looks indignant again for a flash of a second. But then she takes a breath as she sees me grinning “Okay, okay. That’s fair. I deserve that one. Well, for whenever you want it.” She drops the to-go bag on a tool bench behind her.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome!”
She’s smiling when she turns back. I smile back, but then my eyes drop, and my face hardens. Before, she had the bag held in front of her. But now that it’s not there, and with me lying on the floor, I’m looking right up that short skirt to her pink panties. My teeth grind as my gaze soaks in the sight of her thong pulled tight across her sex. There’s a cleft down the center, and it takes all of my willpower not to sit up and just yank her against my mouth.
“Well, sorry again,” she says, clearly oblivious to what I can see now. She actually shifts her weight, and when she cocks her hip, her legs spread a little more. My jaw clenches even tighter. My dick throbs against my jeans. All I’m able to do is nod. “You’re going to order parts tomorrow?”
“Uh, yeah,” I mumble. I attempt to order my eyes up to her face, but it’s a losing battle.
“Enjoy the food,” she says with another sheepish smile. “See you tomorrow.” I just nod and watch her walk away, her flirty skirt swishing around her tight little ass.
When she’s gone, I grunt and sit up. Fuck is she a problem. A very big and very tempting problem. I stand, but when I glance down at the state of my work clothes, I decide to wash up before I eat. I peel my t-shirt off and walk over to the sink next to the door to the reception area. I wash my hands and face, and I reach for a towel when the door slams open. Annabelle gasps as she trips right against me and right into my arms. I grunt as my pulse races, my arms circling her and my hands clutching her as she falls against me. Her palms go flat against my bare chest, and we freeze like that—her in my arms looking up at me with those big green eyes.