Page 16 of Rebel Summer

He stood and sauntered toward me. To my surprise, he kept coming closer, and when he held out a greasy hand toward me, I stared, frozen, until he used the back of it to nudge my arm, gently pushing me away from his bench.

“I wouldn’t lean against that bench in those clothes.”

I stepped away, still unable to say much as I soaked him in. Experience with Dax had taught me to be prepared, and if I had to give a bodily description to a detective someday, I’d say he was pushing six foot two, had grease all over his…neck and chest area, which was highlighted by glistening sweat, and he had definitely filled out since I’d seen him last. My eyes raked over what I could see of his tattoos spanning the width of his shoulders. An outline of an old car was what I made out before I forced my gaze to move farther north.

“Please tell me you didn’t drive here.” He reached for a towel stuck in the waistband of his jeans and began wiping the grime off his chest and hands.

I followed his movement with fascination until I closed my gawking mouth and focused on an interesting set of wrenches lined up on a pegboard above the bench.

“I walked.”

He nodded, throwing the towel down on one of his workbenches surrounding the perimeter of his shop. “You alright?”

His voice seemed lower to me, more manly than I remembered. It sent chills down my spine and had me imagining cozy snuggles by the fire—before I reminded myself that I was currently on a very hot island in the middle of summer, and stamped that stupid fire out.

“Yeah. I’m good. Just a few cuts and scrapes, but you already know about those.” I raised my arms briefly, in case he was interested, but other than a quick glance, he didn’t seem to be. Were his eyelashes always that long?

Nope. Stop it.

Pull yourself together, Ivy Brooks.

Just because I felt bad about destroying half of his shop didn’t mean I should let my brain turn him into some sort of person I ogled. Save that for the women who LIVED HERE.

Also the women who didn’t...you know…break his building.

Dax seemed to be waiting for something—which was my cue.

I flung my hand back toward the doorway I’d entered. “I tried ringing the bell, but you didn’t hear me. So I came to find you.” By nature, apologies weren’t a strong suit of mine, so to ease myself in, I attempted the old trick of forcing him to apologize for something first.

“It’s Sunday. The shop is closed.”

“Oh.” I deflated.

Dax folded his arms, leaned against his bench and considered me, a self-satisfied look on his face. The kind of look that told me he knew exactly how hard this little chat was going to be for me. For the record, I would give him my apology. I would. He deserved it.

I was just warming up.

“So, it looks like I’ll have to add breaking and entering to your list of crimes,” he said.

I smiled sweetly. “The door was open.”

“The whole front side of the building is open.” His tone didn’t sound angry. It was more matter-of-fact, with a slight, gleaming-eyed edge to it.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, attempting to gather words. “Anyway. About that. I’m really sorry I ran into your building.”

Dax blinked. Several beats passed before a slow smile crossed his face. And then he laughed, rubbing his forehead while he did so. I stood there with shifting feet, hating every miserable second.

“Thanks, Books,” he said once he finally got a hold of himself. I stilled at the use of his old nickname, and once again, a wave of problematic familiarity came crashing over me. When I began to turn away from him, he held his hand out. “Wait.”

I turned back to look at him.

He stayed still, almost like he was waiting for something to happen. My eyes narrowed warily.

“Yeah, I think I feel a tear welling up.” He leaned closer, pointing to his eye. “This eye. Do you see anything?”

I leaned forward to swat him across his stomach while he laughed again and began rummaging through a toolbox. I froze, shocked at my boldness. I hadn’t seen this guy in ten years, then I destroy half of his shop, and now I was basically throwing myself at his half-naked body. The way he went about unfazed was a definite red flag. The feeling between us like I’d just seen him a week ago wasn’t lost on me.

But it certainly wasn’t welcome. Time to move this along.

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