“Tell me what’s up when you get your results.”
I stick out my fist, knuckles curled. He bumps mine with his. “Will do.”
* * *
After Beck agreedto go on a date with me, she sent me a text message so I’d have her number. I considered teasing her about usingWheel Get Youas a way to get guys' numbers, but thought better of it. Teasing Delane at the service desk the last few years has taught me a valuable lesson, which is this: one day it’s funny and the next you’re getting the stink-eye for the same comment.
She asked me to pick her up at her place, and truthfully, I was glad to be driving so that our dynamic could feel the shift instantly by taking roles opposing our normal ones. I don’t need to be some dominant male, but the idea of resting my hand on her thigh while I drive us somewhere has my pulse pounding.
I refuse to let myself think about how attached I’ve grown to Beck and Jett in the last few weeks. I also refuse to let my brain wander to that test I took. To what the results will tell me.
Where they may lead me.
It’s too much. I stewed and drank on it for a goddamn year. I’ll deal with whatever comes. Right now, I just want to live in this bubble of feeling good with Beck and Jett. I know it has room to get quite complicated, but she agreed to go out with me. That feels like a great fucking first step, and all I wanna do now is bask in that success.
My phone tells me just how to get to her house, and I smirk, knowing that she lives just minutes away from Wrench Kings. It’s funny how life works sometimes.
One minute you’re loved, happy and successful with a landscape of opportunity stretched out before you, and then next, you have no idea where you came from or what you mean to anyone, including yourself.
One day you’re wiping drool from the countertop, and the next, you’re grinning at an eight-month-old like he hangs the moon.
My mind cyclones thoughts, but when I pull up at her place, everything inside me instantly calms. The sun is setting, and without her porch lights on, the tiny light in her kitchen illuminates the entire room. From the curb, I watch, wearing a smile as she twirls wide circles, holding Jett to her chest with one hand, the other holding his like they’re dancing partners. They’re both smiling, Jett even looks like he could be laughing, and it makes me laugh.
Right there in my car, I smile and laugh all alone as I watch Beck and her son share a private moment.
My entire body aches from how terrifying my sudden realization is: no matter what happens with that fucking test, no matter who I end up being, at this moment, I know exactly who I am.
Theirs.
I take my time walking up to the front door, almost feeling bad to separate Beck and Jett during their moment. Part of me wishes I’d planned a Jett-friendly date. It’s not to say he couldn’t go, but I’ve never seen a kid at the place I’m taking her, and in truth, I feel like I’ll get to learn more about her if it’s just us two.
Gently, I knock at the door and immediately look down at my boots. I’ve swapped my steel-toed work ones for a pair of cognac leather motorcycle boots. And rather than work chinos I’m wearing my black cigarette pants. Another great thing about this date? I have a shirt without my name embroidered on it. Just a plain white button down for me tonight.
Shoving my hair off my face, I take a breath, preparing to see her for the first time not as a customer or asherrider, but as just Beck, the sexy single mom with a cute as fuck eight-month-old.
I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been for any date, but as her footsteps near, I tell myself I’m worrying too much. She’s just a woman who I’m taking out. When the door opens, light illuminates her from behind, and I can’t help but laugh, breaking the tension in my gut.
She saunters out a step or two and puts a hand on her hip. “What? Did you seriously pick me up for our first date andlaughwhen you saw me?” She blinks incredulously, and I laugh a little bit harder.
“No,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I mean, yes, but…”
The corner of her mouth curls, and I watch as she fights it, her lips twitching.
“It’s just…” I huff out a breath, finally meeting and holding her gaze. “I was a little nervous when I got here.” I motion to where my car sits nestled at the curb. “I like you, and I want you to like me and when you opened the door, light shone through from the back of your house and you looked like this…” I trail off again because the only word I can think of seems like a very emo thing to say on a first date. “Like this angel,” I finally say, finishing my thought.
Because fuck it. It’s true.
“And I laughed because I was giving myself a “this is a date, chill out” talk, and then you opened the door and it was like a movie moment with you glowing in front of me.”
She studies me. Like,reallyfocuses on my face. Watches my eyes, examines the shape of my mouth, then does a quick sweep of my body.
“You look very nice,” she says, biting into her lip, and goddamn, if it doesn’t instantly give me a halfie. Fuck. My eyes float over her body, just now noticing the flowing white skirt and very fitted blue tank top. Her feet are bare, and Jesus Christ, I need counseling because before I can even meet her eyes again, my brain has already envisioned those feet wrapped around my cock making me spill.
I’m not even a foot guy, either. But hell, her entire body is a playground for my dick.
I take a step toward her, and she takes one toward me. “That’swhat you’re supposed to say,” she says, her voice a sultry little rasp.
“You look beautiful, Beck.” My heart agrees, pounding rapidly beneath my ribs. I stretch my hand across my chest in an effort to slow it down. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she stares at my hand a moment, too.