“I’ll keep asking.” I give her my least defeated grin. “I’m not going to stop asking.”
She flicks the blinker with more force than necessary. “Yeah,okay.” There’s so much doubt in her voice that it would knock me back if I weren’t already sitting.
“Why do you say it like that?” I ask, handing Jett his giraffe for the third time.
“Ja-ba!” His foot kicks out of the seat as he roars gibberish, and I have the strongest urge to grab his little foot and give it a reassuring squeeze. So I do, and while I’m doing it, she watches, responding slowly.
“You’ll get bored.”
I smooth my thumb along the curve of the carseat, smiling at Jett before looking back to Beck. She won’t look at me, but she does announce we’re arriving at Wrench Kings in a minute.
“You know what, Beck? I won’t get bored. It’s not possible. And if you need me to prove you wrong, well, I will.” I pop open the door after paying her through the app. Hooking my finger in the neck of my coat, I sling it over my shoulder before poking my head into the car to say goodbye to the little guy.
“See ya, man. I’ll catch you later.” Once I close the door, I see Beck’s window is rolled down. She’s wearing a blue top and black leggings, and based on what she told me about her day yesterday, I have a feeling she’s doing housework today, and those are her work clothes. Her breasts are so big they nearly touch the steering wheel as she leans forward to flick the heater on. The cool February air drifts into the car from her open window, making her nipples stiffen. And I stare at those hard little points as she reaches back to hand the giraffe to Jett.
Thanks, dude, I think to myself, pretending he’s my ally in this quest to get to know his mom. That he threw the giraffe to buy me moments, that’s what I’m scrounging for at this point… moments with this woman who hasclearlybeen hurt.
“Thank you for the ride.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile she wears is organic. She likes me. She may have turned me down, but I can tell she likes me.
“Have a good day at work, Beau.” Her eyes narrow as she says it, then flick over the phone screen in the cradle sticking out from the dash. Her long, thin finger swipes against the screen, and I take a chance to look at those perfect tits and hard nipples again as she analyzes the text on her phone.
“I don’t think your last name is on here.”
I shrug. “Maybe I’m like Cher. Maybe I’m just Beau,” I tease.
She rolls her eyes again. I like that she gives me shit, even in these small ways. “Well,Just Beau, enjoy your day.”
When her hand falls to the window control on the door, my pulse rockets. This is it. I don’t get to see her again until tonight.
“You too,” I say, pretending to be all sorts of calm and cool that I most definitely am not.
She drives off, and I wander into the shop like a lost puppy.
“Why are you having the lady you were rude to last week drive you to work?” Delane asks the moment I look up from hanging my jacket on the shop room door.
“She’s a driver forWheel Get You.”
Delane fluffs her curls, holding a spread compact mirror in one palm. Snapping it shut, she turns to me, an accusation in her eyes. “You have a car.Anda motorcycle.”
“I am aware of the modes of transportation I own; thank you, Delane.”
She slides her compact back into her purse, shoving it beneath the counter. “You’re aware she has a kid, right?”
I tip my head to the side, unimpressed with Delane at this moment. She’s a great receptionist; she handles Atticus’ grouchy ass like no other, and she deals with Miller’s overwhelming sweetness. But right now, her words are pricking at my nerves.
“Delane,” I say her name with the exasperation of a starved man. “Of course, I know that.” I wave to the window where her car was just a few moments prior. “She has him when she takes calls.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and I want to tell her to stop, but I also want to know what she’s going to say. I respect Delane, even when we annoy one another. “You better be done drinking and sulking if you’re going to get involved with amother.” She tosses the last word like passing a hot potato from one hand to the other.
At first, my skin stings in response to her words. But I remember where Delane came from because I’ve known her for four years, since I hired her at age eighteen. Her mom is happily married now, and Delane loves her stepdad, but before that, there were a handful of losers that had her stressed and sometimes even stayed with Atticus.
She raises her eyebrows, waiting for my response.
“I know.”
“Fix yourself before you promise her the world.”