I smile at him as I take a pull from the coffee cup sitting in the console. “It really did.”
He clears his throat and reaches for the door, popping it open but only a little. “You know, I didn’t come here for that, but I like seeing you this way.” He nods to me. “Happy.”
“Can you believe you make me happy?” I wink, teasing.
He pulls his beanie down over his eyebrows and throws a boot into the snow. “No,” he admits, and I know he’s telling the truth.
My smile falls. “Well, you do. As weird as that sounds.”
He gets out, shaking the car. Before he closes the door, he leans in, his face expressionless as always. “Ditto. And uh, knock ‘em dead or whatever the fuck.” He slams the door, gets into his truck, and glares at me. A minute passes, and I get a text.
Atticus:Go. You only have twenty-three minutes. I’m making sure you get there safely
Goldie:I drove safely for twenty-one years before I met you
Atticus:Shut up and drive
Goldie:Yes, sir
Goldie:But I’m only agreeing because I’m terrified your monster will choke me if I don’t
Atticus:Good girl. Now go.
I smile as I tuck my phone away, taking a sip from my coffee but never once looking out the passenger window to eye him one last time. I drive to work, lock my car, and head into the building without turning around to see if he’s still there.
I want to. Every single part of me wants to know. Wants to see him. I can still taste him, feel his massive cock throbbing and pulsing on my tongue.
But I only have room for a bite right now. I can’t be greedy.
sixteen
atticus
I’m ready to be free
“Welp,I was hoping to get it done today. You know, I’m heading out of state tomorrow,” the man says to Delane, scratching the back of his head with a trucker hat pinched in his hand. He slides it back down and rests his arm on the counter, leaning in. “What do you think, sweetheart, can we get it in today?”
I’d come out of the garage to the main office to put my iPad on the charger. I had no intentions of setting anyone straight or even saying a single word. And yet in the fifteen seconds I’ve overhead this man talking to our front desk girl, Delane, I wanna fuckin’ choke him out.
The thing is, in the weeks since finding out what happened to Goldie, all men annoy me. Well, Beau and Miller are good guys, and my pop, too. But every fuckin’ dude that walks in to Wrench Kings puts me on high alert. I may have known Reynold Porter was no fuckin’ good guy, but I didn’t think he was a real bad guy. A selfish shit? Yes. An arrogant prick? Fuckin’ absolutely. A teen trapped in a man’s body? Check. But a rapist? You really never know a monster until it’s too late.
And with every man that strolls in dangling keys from his index finger, chuckling with Delane, checking out pamphlets and fishing his stupid hand around in the complimentary candy bowl, I think,are you good or are you bad?
Fuck. It’s been exhausting. I can’t get it off my mind.
This is how women must feel all the fuckin’ time. Worried and questioning, or at the very least, on alert everywhere they go.
The only thing keeping me grounded is her.
We’ve been… fuck, I don’t know. Getting to know each other? Talking? In a situationship privately?
Whatever we’re doing, I don’t want to quit.
Walking up to the counter, I drop my hand over the Plexiglass rather heavily, startling trucker cap and his urgent truck needs. “She said not today. You’re either okay with it not bein’ today, or you’re goin’ somewhere else, but either way, that needs to happen now.”
He nods a little, eyes wide. “Okay, alright, I was just checking. You know, sometimes there’s wiggle room.”
“There ain’t no wiggle room here.”