Page 5 of Hooking Her Up

With my face growing red from the way he’s looking at me, I lower my eyes to his chest, just about right in front of me. Wide and broad, with his shirt clinging to his pecs, I’m not at all cold under the blast of the air conditioning. Too hot, almost.

Is this real or did I hit my head harder than I thought in the accident? Am I passed out in the ditch, dreaming about Liam Chase, my lifelong crush, wringing out my hair with paper napkins?

The pizza chef sticks his head over the counter dividing the kitchen from the restaurant and calls a greeting to Liam, then peers at me curiously before coming around to the front.

“You and the other girl were in here all the time for a while a few years back. It’s great to see an old regular again.”

Liam claps his arm around me. “I just rescued her from the storm.” He turns to look down at me. “What put you in the ditch in the first place?”

I’m so stunned by the fact I’m pressed against his side, all his body heat seeping through my wet clothes that I stutter out the answer.

He lets me go and they talk about how dangerous deer can be while Liam orders. I realize I’m staring at Liam with my mouth open when the chef asks me what I want to drink and I jerk my gaze away to answer.

Another employee brings us a pile of kitchen towels and we get as dry as we can while we wait at a corner table, tucked behind an old pinball machine. I must look like roadkill, frizzy and damp, but I’m strangely not concerned. Not with the way Liam’s been looking at me, like he’s been hungering for me for a long time and at any moment he’ll pounce. That look alone is keeping me warm.

I shrug inward, remembering the empty state of his fridge. He’s probably just hungry. There’s not going to be any pouncing no matter how hard I wish for it.

“You live behind your work?” I ask, because staring at him in awe is about to get awkward.

He nods. “It’s my place.”

“The garage? The tow company, too?”

He makes an inscrutable face. “Yeah. If you can call one truck a company.”

“You’d need at least one, right?”

For some reason he smiles as if I’ve said something hilarious and pulls yet another needle from my hair.

“Oh my God, do I have the whole tree up there?” I run my fingers furiously through my tangles, cheeks burning.

“I like seeing you like this. I remember you always being so—”

Don’t say it. Please, don’t.

If he says perfect, I might scream. All my life it’s been drilled into me to never step out of line, never have a hair out of place, never give less than my best.

Always be perfect.

I used to cry myself to sleep at night because I could never quite attain it. I ran out of tears a couple years ago, but I’m still striving to reach that elusive pinnacle even though it makes me miserable.

He shrugs, seeming to read my mind, not finishing the sentence. I get back to his business and that sweet and cozy house I wish I could see more of.

“A house and a company already?” I say, almost to myself. “That’s great.”

Instead of taking my compliment the way I meant it, he frowns. “Come on, Kayla. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Well, considering you’re basically living my dream, it is to me.”

His eyes widen. “Having a tow truck is your dream?”

“No, silly,” I say, reaching out to lightly slap his arm, right on the edge of one of his many tattoos. I want to trace the outline but thankfully don’t embarrass myself. It almost spills out of me, what I really want out of life, but what’s the point?

“What did you end up majoring in?” he asks.

“Business administration,” I say with the forced enthusiasm I’ve got down to a science.

“Why?” His brows shoot together and he’s got me pinned with his amber stare.

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