“No.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
I nodded my head, not sure what had happened. The change in the man’s demeanor had been tense there for a moment, but now it was like that tenseness had never even been.
“Listen, Sir,” I stood up. “I want to apologize. I got a little excited seeing the…”
He held up his hand and reached into his pocket for his keys.
“Aaron,” the man said.
My brows rose.
“What?” I asked in confusion.
“My name,” he said. “It’s Aaron.”
I blinked.
“Okay, Aaron.”
Aaron smiled, and my heart started to flutter at seeing that small smile kick up one corner of his mouth.
The man was sexy.
Scarred, yes, but sexy beyond belief.
Very, very sexy.
Okay, I needed to get my act together.
Shaking my head, I turned to survey the garage around me.
It was after eight in the evening.
I’d intended to go home around six, but after the day I’d had, I’d decided to stay and relieve some stress. Pops usually stayed with me, but by the lack of light pouring out of the office, I realized he must’ve already gone home.
“Uhh,” I hesitated. “How’d you get in?”
The man gestured to the door at the side of the shop, the one that never got used, and I nodded.
Bob had taken the trash out today by using that door, and he must’ve forgotten to close it.
It was tucked away in a secluded part of the garage, and you could only see it if you parked in the alley next to it. Which was likely what Aaron had done.
“Was my Pops here when you came?”
“He was not.”
I nodded my head.
“Were you wanting to work on this tonight, or were you wanting to start some other time?” I asked. “Do you even need me?”
He didn’t look like he needed me. In fact, he looked completely capable of doing anything he ever set his mind to.
I’d offer myself, just the same.
I always hated that Pops rented out stalls in my garage. It was something that he’d done since I was young.
“Not everyone can afford their own garage, Gen-Gen,” he’d used to say.
Though, that didn’t mean that he didn’t rent the ‘stalls’ or garage bays out for a freakin’ fortune.
My guess was that this man, Aaron, was paying a little less than Pops’ usual rate of five hundred dollars a month. My guess would also be that he was renting it out for three hundred. But that ‘rent’ came with unlimited use of our tools. Unlimited use of our electricity and air. Our business discount on parts—though they were still responsible for paying for their parts after the discount—and anything we had to offer.
If we had it, they were welcome to use it.
Most of the people that rented out stalls, though, didn’t really know what they were doing when it came to cars.
This one, though…yeah, he was knowledgeable.
He looked like he knew more than me, especially when he said what he had to say next.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I would like to do it all myself if you don’t mind.”
So polite.
But I wasn’t stupid.
It was a reprimand, too. One that said I may be a woman, but he wasn’t happy that I’d taken the motor out when he wanted to do it himself.
“Gotcha.” I grabbed a red rag. “Don’t forget to lock up when you leave, please.”
Aaron’s eyes watched me move.
He didn’t even try to act like he wasn’t watching me.
When I moved into the office, he followed me there, too.
“Do you have an alarm code?” he asked. “I don’t mind setting it if you want me to.”
I laughed.
“You think a small town like this that I’d have an alarm code?” I snorted. “Um, no. We don’t even have a fully staffed police department. Not to mention we’re about ten minutes out of the city. Who would respond if we did?”
Aaron’s eyebrows rose.
“The sheriff’s department?” he offered. “But the police would respond first if they were needed, no matter if you were out of the city limits or not. Alarm codes are easily verified.”
“Hmmm,” I muttered. “Well, regardless, I don’t have an alarm.”
Turning my back to him, I used the desk to help steady myself as I stripped out of my overalls, displaying a much more revealing outfit than I’d been wearing at the jail when I’d seen him earlier in the day.
Something that was sexy—which was what I usually wore under my coveralls seeing as it was less likely to burn me alive if I wore it during this oppressive heat that our little town was currently undergoing.
“How’s your head?” he asked when I bent over to slip my feet into my shoes again.
“It’s throbbing,” I muttered. “I probably shouldn’t have worked as much as I did today, but I was trying to work off my anger.”
“Your anger at your husband?”
I laughed then.
“That’s not my husband,” I said. “Never was, never will be. In fact, it’s downright laughable that Rod would even be considered for the job. He’s slime.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” Aaron drawled.
I turned to see him leaning back against the doorframe with his legs crossed in front of him.
Planting a fist into the desk once I got my shoes firmly in place on my feet, I started clicking buttons on my computer, closing out programs to get it ready to power down.
He watched me work, his eyes taking in everything I was doing at once. I could practically feel them boring into my head as he watched me.
And as I left five minutes later, I secretly wondered if the broody, scarred man was that talkative with everyone, or if it was just me.
I hoped it was just me.
Chapter 3
Count orgasms, not calories.
-Coffee Cup
Aaron
“Hi, Mr. Sims,” a boy, the same boy I’d reprimanded yesterday, called to me the moment I got off of my bike.
“Hey, boy,” I murmured. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
The boy was maybe eight or nine, at most, and that wasn’t an age that was good for a kid to be outside by himself. Especially in our shitty neighborhood.
He pointed at his aunt, the one who took my breath away each and every time I saw her.
“Aunt Imogen is talking to my mom,” he smiled happily. “She should be coming home soon.”
“Where is your mom?” I asked.
Please don’t say prison.
“Mom’s a Marine.”
“Oorah!” I called, a smile kicking up the corner—the working corner—of my mouth.
Well, it wasn’t that the other corner of my mouth didn’t work.
It did.
But I didn’t get the same productivity out of it like the other side.
I guess that was what one would expect out of a severely burned body, though.
“Semper Fi.”
I blinked, looking down at the kid.
“You know what that means?” I asked him.
The kid nodded stoically. “Always faithful.”
“I like you, kid,” I told him as I reached into the saddle bags and yanked out a couple of bags of food that I’d stopped off to get at the store on my way home from work. “Especially when you’re not throwing a stupid fit.”
The kid looked down at his feet.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” I agreed. “But you shouldn’t be apologizing to me. You should be apologizing to that Aunt Imogen of yours.”
The kid looked to where his aunt was talking, and he hung his head once again.
“What’s your name, kid?” I asked.
“Davis.”<
br />
“Well, Davis.” I pocketed my phone and started down the path towards him, which also led to the apartment doors. “Everyone has moments when they’re an asshole, even if they don’t mean to be one. You just have to suck it up, apologize and move on. What’s done is done. Look forward to the future, and don’t dwell on the past.”
Though I silently laughed to myself.
If only I could live by the same words.
I was still back two years ago, married to a woman who had made my life a living hell. A wife who tried to kill me and, in the process, cauing of all of my scarring, leaving me with a persistent bad attitude, both of which ultimately made me unhirable in my own hometown.
Though the city council of Kilgore, Texas didn’t flat out say that that was the reason I wasn’t getting rehired, they’d pretty much insinuated it, and that was enough for me to read between the lines.
Then when I was offered the job out of pity after a forced town vote, I’d decided enough was enough.
The first thing I did was call my mom, who instantly offered up her house.
Though, I’d gotten out of her house quickly enough.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my mom, because I did.
I just didn’t like living with my mother when she was so fucking nosy about every little thing I did.
“What?” I heard screeched. “Can they even do that?”
I turned to find Imogen lifting her hand to her hair where she looked like she’d been punched in the gut.
“You wanna come into my place for a while?” I asked, my eyes never leaving Imogen.
Davis made a sound of acceptance.
“Sure,” Davis replied. “I’m going to tell Aunt Imogen that I’m coming with you.”
I stopped him by curling one hand around his shoulder. “Let me do it.”
Davis nodded.
“Can you grab the bag for me?” I offered one of my bags.
He took it, studying my face, and let his hand drop to his side.
I patted him lightly, then moved to where Imogen was pacing back and forth.
“How long are they extending it?” I heard her as I walked up.
When she paused in her pacing, sensing my nearness, I indicated Davis.
“Taking him up to my place.”
Her eyes widened.
I grinned, knowing I’d surprised her by saying ‘my place.’
Maybe she hadn’t realized I was her neighbor.
I sure as hell had noticed she was mine, though.
Do you know how hard it is to witness a beautiful pixie lugging groceries in and not offering my assistance?
Let me tell you, it’s nearly impossible.
I’d watched her through my peephole, my hands clenched into fists, as I listened through the flimsy door as her and, who I guessed was her sister, fought over who was carrying the most bags.
Then they’d had to drop them at the door because they were too heavy after having carried them up two flights of stairs.
“I’ll leave the door open.”
Before she could deny me, I left, barreling straight toward the front door.
Davis fell in step behind me, and stayed with me until I pushed open the door to my apartment.
“Do you like to read?” Davis asked quietly the moment he stepped inside.
I looked around at my surroundings.
There were books…everywhere.
On the shelves I’d put up. On the floor stacked beside the shelves. On the nightstand next to my bed, which you could see from the front doorway. Lining my counters.
They were literally everywhere.
I liked reading.
In fact, in the years that I’d been in the military, followed by the seven years I liked to call ‘hell’, I needed books to get through.
My wife had been a huge bitch. Imagine your worst nightmare, then add on a couple more levels of annoyance, and that was my ex-wife.
I’d gotten good at reading and ignoring life around me.
It used to drive me insane, but when you had to deal with someone like Lynn, you learned to do what you had to do to protect yourself.
“Doesn’t everyone like to read?” I asked the kid.
Davis looked at me, his head cocked, and he shook his head.
“No,” he answered immediately. “Reading is boring.”
“Reading is something that’ll make you smarter in the long run,” I told him. “It’s probably boring to you because you haven’t found the right thing to read.”
Davis looked skeptical.
“You want to know what I’d read if I were you?” I asked him.
He blinked. “What?”
“Harry Potter or Percy Jackson,” I told him. “Two really good series’ that you’ll love.”
“Who’s that?” he pointed at a certain book with a dragon on it.
“That’s Eragon, and you likely won’t like reading this one yet. It’s a really long book, too.” I pointed to the other books in the series. “And you can’t just read the one. You read one, you’ll have to read them all.”
“I’ll work up to it,” he promised. “Can I read one of the ones you were talking about?”
I nodded and pulled Percy Jackson down.
“How old are you?” I asked him.
“Nine,” he answered instantly. “Almost nine and a quarter.”
I snorted.
“I think you should go for Percy Jackson first,” I told him. “If you enjoy it, then move on to Harry Potter, which is a little more advanced reading.”
I held out the book and nearly laughed when Davis got his first look at the cover.
“What happened?” he asked. “It looks like it’s been drowned.”
“I’m hard on books,” I shrugged. “The pages are still readable, though.”
Davis held the book very carefully. “If I break it, are you going to be mad at me?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “But you won’t break it.”
“Can I sit on your couch?” he asked, looking at me.
“Knock yourself out.”
I nodded, picking up my own book once I’d put my groceries away, taking a seat across the room from the kid as I lost myself in my own book world.
And that’s how Imogen found us twenty minutes later.
“Uhhh,” Imogen interrupted hesitantly. “Are you ready to go eat dinner, Davis?”
Davis looked up from his book. “I’m not hungry.”
“Grandma finished dinner, though,” she said. “And you know you’ll be hungry in an hour if you don’t eat now.”
When the boy looked like he was about to argue, I cleared my throat, causing Davis to look at me in alarm.
“Take the book with you. Eat. Then read once you’ve had a shower,” I offered. “That’s the good thing about books. If you’re not reading them, you can reflect on what you’ve read so far. You can think about what happens next. It’s fun, I promise.”
Davis looked skeptical.
In the end, though, he sat up, waved his book at me, and disappeared out of my apartment and into his own.
The smell of fried chicken wafted out the door behind him, and my stomach growled.
“Would you like to come eat?” Imogen offered, standing hesitantly in the doorway.
She looked freakin’ adorable today.
Black leggings encased her toned thighs, and simple black flip flops brought attention to her hot pink toenails that looked like they’d recently been painted.
I would know.
I’d been married for quite a few years, and for all those years, Lynn had wasted our money by getting her toes and fingernails done, and hairy bits waxed every two weeks.
She’d try to show her stuff off in the later years, and I’d been so over her and everything that came with her that I rarely, if ever, rose to the occasion.
I’d not had sex with her since our sixth year of marriage. The
n it’d gone on that way for two more years before she ripped my heart out—not to mention had tried to kill me.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I finally settled on.
Although every single cell inside of me wanted to go with her, I chose to stay.
I had to protect myself.
Protecting myself came first.
“Okay,” she started to back away. “Thanks for hanging with him for a while.”
“Welcome,” I muttered. “Wasn’t a problem.”
And it wasn’t.
The kid was actually kind of nice once you got past the crusty outer attitude, and I found that I liked him.
As I watched his aunt leave, not once looking back, I realized that his aunt wasn’t half bad either.
Chapter 4
Some men run away from danger. I run toward it.
-Firefighter’s creed
Aaron
I got on my bike after my shift at the prison, and vaguely wondered why the hell I had a job like the one I had for as long as I had it before I would decide to look into something else.
It sucked.
I hated it.
I didn’t understand the reasoning behind why half of the men there were locked up. I couldn’t add two and two together and get nine like they did.
Why, if you heard a cop say ‘drop the gun’, wouldn’t you drop the fucking gun? It literally is not that fucking hard.
They say ‘drop it’, you drop it. They ask you to get down on the ground, you get down on the ground. What you don’t do, however, is run.
Running from a cop is stupid. It screams guilt.
So no, I don’t feel sorry for you because you were shot. Sure, you might have been innocent—which is doubtful since you’re running away—but you sure as hell didn’t need to run because it was a cop.
Running equals guilt. Always.
“You look like you’re about to punch someone,” Truth said at my side.
I turned my head and studied the man.
Truth was normally a quiet man—unless you tried to give him his flu shot.
Tall, with dark brown hair, model good looks and a beard women declared as ‘to die for,’ he looked more like a man suited for the cover of GQ rather than a high school teacher.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him, ignoring his observation.
I did want to punch someone.
In fact, it was the same someone who’d been responsible for me putting stitches into a certain little pixie who’d been driving me crazy over the last week.
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