The question caught him off guard. “Show you what?”
“The truck. I’m curious to see it.”
“Why?”
“I’d like to hear what you think you’d do to it.”
“You want to—” A crazy thought hit him, and he pinned her with a look. “You’re not going to try to buy me a food truck, are you? Because I don’t care how much money you have or what kind of amends you’re trying to make, that’s not happening. I still haven’t agreed to accept the ovens.”
She rolled her eyes like he was the most ridiculous person in the world. “You’re not going to turn down the ovens because you want the kids to have them. And no, I’m not going to buy you a food truck. I’m not feeling that guilty.”
His shoulders sagged in relief. “Okay, good. Because you have a weird look in your eye.”
She smiled. “Maybe I’m just weird.”
He laughed, the heaviness of the earlier conversation lifting. “Well, you did threaten to tie me up and keep me in your imaginary basement the first night you met me.”
“See.” She picked up her sandwich. “Better be careful, Wesley Garrett.”
He lifted his drink in a mock toast but kept his gaze on her. Better be careful. She had no idea how right she was. Because the more he was around this woman, the more he was beginning to question why he’d shut down the possibility of having someone in his bed.
No, not someone, the baser part of him whispered. This one.
He didn’t want Rebecca’s money. And he didn’t need her apologies.
But he was starting to want something else.
He was starting to want it quite a lot.
chapter
TWELVE
After finishing their dinner, Rebecca rode with Wes to the lot where the food truck was being sold. It was much like the first night when he’d driven her to Dev’s restaurant, but the nervous energy running through her this time was there for a completely different reason. She was enjoying hanging out with Wes. Enjoying it too much, probably. But she’d asked him out to dinner tonight for more than good company, and she had a feeling that could blow up in her face. The bomb was ticking in her ears.
“It’s right over here,” Wes said, turning off the road and into a lot between buildings, orange sodium lights illuminating their way as they parked.
Wes came around to her side and helped Rebecca out of his pickup truck. She wasn’t the type to get or seek out a lot of chivalrous treatment. Her male coworkers treated her like one of the guys, which she preferred. But it was nice to have Wes take her hand and help her out.
He led her through the alleyway—the broken blacktop wet with unknown substances since it hadn’t rained in a while—and stopped in front of a chain-link fence. He pointed to a small opening where they could peel back the fencing and squeeze in. “This is the only way in after hours.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “So…an evening of trespassing?”
“Hey, you said you wanted to see the truck.” He rolled the length of fence back for her and smiled. “Afraid to break the rules, lawyer girl?”
She put a hand on her hip. “More like afraid of being arrested, attacked by a guard dog, or shot on sight.”
He chuckled. “Dev’s uncle owns the lot. There’s no dog. And he wouldn’t press charges or shoot us. We’re good.”
“Comforting.” She crouched down, thankful she was wearing jeans and flats, and stepped through the opening.
Wes followed behind and took her hand once they were both upright, giving it a gentle tug. “Come on, Adele is over here.”
“Adele?” Rebecca asked, trying to ignore the tingling sensation that tracked up her arm at the feel of his big, warm hand around hers.
“Yes. I named her. Feel free to judge me.” He guided her through an intricate maze of junk cars in the lot, like playing Frogger on pause. Forward. Side step. Forward, forward. Side step.
As they moved deeper into the lot, Rebecca glanced back over her shoulder, wondering if they’d ever find their way back. “Is this the part where joking about me being a demented ki