12
Katrina
“Shit!” It’s pitch black and cold enough out that I probably should have worn a coat, but as I sneak across the wide garage driveway just after eleven o’clock, I curse the universe and possibly Angelo’s forward thinking when I stop in the dirt and gravel anddon’tfind my car. I figured he’d leave it out, so I could sneak it away and tell them I picked it up in the morning. I walked the wrong effing way after work with the full expectation I’d be sitting in my car right about now, tapping my fingers to the beat of my stereo and bobbing my head to some kind of rap jam I put on to make myself feel badass.
But now I stare at the three roller doors, closed, padlocked, and secured in a way I could never get past to get my shitty car out and drive myself home.
Stefan offered a ride tonight, but I declined and said another friend would be getting me.
So stupid!
In my mind, I was all set for the two-block walk, then a cozy drive in my little car that now has an Angelo Alesi tune-up, which is basically synonymous with an engine that’ll never break down again.
“Dammit!”
My bag inches down my arm as I do my best impression of a stealthy sneak across the driveway. I’m not sneaky at all, and when I catch a glimpse of security cameras following my steps with a quietly droning buzz, I jump and press a hand to my heart for a beat, but I don’t freak out or hide my face. I’m already busted, so I’ll own it, then I’ll walk my stupid ass home and come back tomorrow with my tail between my legs and an excuse for why I tried to pick the car up tonight.
Impatience.
That’s my only excuse. But it’s as valid as the parking fines Zeke’s trying to dodge, and the warm cherry pie that sits in my happy belly right now and promises a nice sleep.
I wanted to start my weekend of freedom with my car, but now I have to walk home, sneak into the apartment late, and convince my son I got a ride with a friend. Then tomorrow, when Angelo snitches to Franky and the guys, I’ll have to come up with a reason for why I told a lie.
And I don’t think they’ll accept impatience as a good enough excuse.
Moving forward, since I already look like a criminal, I cast a glance over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone, then I bend in front of one of the roller doors and try to pull it up.
Locked.
“Damn.”
“Need a hand?”
I shoot to my feet with a screech, slam my back against the roller door, and fist my bag as though to use it as a weapon. My heart races, and my stomach does cartwheels when Eric DeFrigginWhit steps around the side of the building with his stupid hat on his head and his hands pushed into deep pockets. Jeans wrap around thick legs, combat boots sit on large feet, and a different shirt than he was wearing at the diner today stretches around his biceps as he looks me up and down with an appreciative eye. His shirt is midnight black, so the dog tags hanging to the middle of his chest stand out in stark contrast and flicker off the streetlight twenty feet away.
He watches me with an intensity he’s never had before, like the midnight darkness allows him to be a little less… refined. “You trying to break in, Katrina Blair? Because this is my friend’s garage, and I doubt you have permission.”
“Not break in!” My hand remains on my wildly beating heart. “I was looking to see if it was open. My car’s inside, so…”
“You see the chains on the doors; it’s after eleven, but you wanted to see if the place was open?” Slowly stepping forward, he resembles a wild animal stalking its prey. “Do mechanics often work this late?”
“No! Shut the hell up. Angelo knew I’d be by. He has my car.”
“Right.” He continues moving forward with far too much intensity. Too much control. Too much… staring. “I heard he had your car. But I also heard you tell Stefan you would pick it up tomorrow.” He stops right in front of me so the toes of his boots touch my sneakers and his chest touches the hand I have on my heart. Flashing an arrogant smile, he trails a single finger along my bare arm until the oxygen completely stops flowing to my lungs. “I also heard the way your voice rose and cracked when you lied to Stefan. Iknewyou’d be here tonight; I knew it in my blood, so I waited for you. I watched and hoped you’d come.” He licks his lips. “I was right.”
He's the big bad wolf all the books warned us of!“I just want my car.”
“There are a fuck ton of things in this world I want but can’t have.” His voice is deeper than usual, gritty and rough as his eyes roam my face and his finger brings goosebumps to my skin. “There are seriously so many things I want that I’ve yet to have. But that’s the thing, right? The world sucks, so most people are left disappointed, and wanting something often jinxes it and leaves us empty-handed.”
My heart throbs in my throat. I swear, if he just leaned back and looked, he could see it. “I wanted cherry pie all day today.”
His hungry eyes flash and drop to my lips. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. All day long.” I whisper to hide the tremor in my voice. “I thought about it. I wished for it. Perhaps I tempted the universe and set myself up for a jinx… but I got it.”
He leans in closer and sets my blood on fire. Drawing in a long breath, it takes me a moment too long to realize he’s smelling my breath. “I smell the cherries. Did you make the pie yourself, Katrina?”
This is like the game he plays in the diner. He asks if I personally made it, nixes anything I didn’t, and orders double of what I did. It’s the same now as it is in the diner, but at nearly midnight, in the dark, while I’m pressed against a cold steel door and his hand makes its way to my hip, its nothing like at the diner.