Page 66 of Rock Bottom

Church’s expression fell. He was obviously disappointed, but it was better this way. Kinder to end things there before either of us got hurt any worse.

Pulling into the junkyard after so many days away felt like coming home. In a way, it was. My trailer was still there, waiting for me to come back, but I had never thought of the building as home. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d thought of home as a place I wanted to be at all.

I put the Tahoe in park and glanced over at Dante, my heart racing in my throat. Why was I looking at him? Was I waiting to see his reaction? If so, why should I care what he thought of the place? Whether he liked the yard or the other members of my team shouldn’t have mattered to me, but it did. I realized I wanted him to like my friends, that it was important to me for some reason.

No, friends wasn’t the right word. These men were my brothers. Just because we didn’t share any blood didn’t make it less true.

“This is where you work?” Dante finally asked.

I nodded. “And live.”

He looked over at me with a small smile. “You live in a junkyard?”

“It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Actually, I think it’s kind of cool.”

I blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure.” He shrugged. “It’s novel. Millions of people live in apartments or houses. How many can say they live in a junkyard? Plus, it kinda fits. Junkyard Dogs? I just didn’t realize it was so literal.”

“My boss is fond of literal interpretations.” I opened the door.

The office door opened and Boone’s two mutts, Trixie and Morticia, came barreling out at light speed, headed straight for Dante. Dante shrank back, so I moved between him and the dogs. The girls wouldn’t hurt a fly without a command from one of us, but I didn’t want him to get slobbered on, especially if he was afraid of them.

“Morticia, Trixie, eglis!” Ragar’s voice boomed through the yard and the dogs sat down where they were.

The big man came out of the yard wearing a bubblegum pink wig done up in victory rolls, and a blue dress I knew he’d sewn himself. Looking at it, you’d never know. That thing would probably go for thousands if he ever felt like opening a fashion label. He must’ve been feeling patriotic, given the red, white, and blue bows in his beard. I’d never understand how a guy his size could walk around in those pumps, though. Yet Ragnar did it all the time, as comfortable in them as he was his steel-toed boots.

“Sorry about the girls. They might look tough, but they’re big babies. I promise.” Ragnar paused to scratch each dog behind the ears. He smiled and sashayed forward, offering a hand to Dante. “You must be Dante. I’m Ragnar.”

I couldn’t help but feel a little stab of jealousy as Dante took Ragnar’s hand and bent over to kiss his fingers. “I’m honored. I’d be even more honored if you’d share your preferred pronouns with me so I don’t make an ass of myself.”

Ragnar chuckled. “Oh, he’s a charmer. Anything’s fine, as long as you promise not to stop talking about me.”

“Never!” Dante replied with feigned offense.

“All right, that’s enough talking,” I grumbled and stepped between them to break up the flirt-fest. “We’re not here for story time, Ragnar.”

“Good thing too, because you missed it. Drag story hour is on Wednesday.” He shot me another grin and a wink before turning around and gesturing for us to follow. The dogs fell into step right behind him with a command. “Boone sent me to get you. I hope you don’t mind the smell of burned motor oil and gasoline too much, Dante. Xion’s working on a ‘67 Impala someone brought in.”

The shop always smelled like burned motor oil, grease, and gasoline, so I wasn’t expecting anything different. When he opened the door, though, the smell hit me hard, and I put my hand over my mouth.

“God dammit!” Metal clattered down in the pit, followed by another string of curses from Xion. “I’m going to find the last mechanic that worked on this car and kill him twice!”

Ragnar put the back of his hand beside his mouth and whispered to Dante, “That’s Xion. Boss’s husband. I’d steer clear of him. He’s in a bad mood today. Come on. This way.” He took Dante by the hand, pulling him excitedly toward the stairs.

Dante shot an amused look at me as we ascended the stairs. “What’s the matter, kitten?”

“Nothing,” I growled.

“Then why are you scowling?”

“I’m not,” I lied, even though I knew I was. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t like other people putting their hands all over my…

Your what, Church? Your momentary distraction? Your fling? He’s not your boyfriend, and even if he was, Ragnar has no idea you’ve staked any sort of claim.

Ragnar pulled open the door and held it for us. Dante, of course, grinned and thanked him pleasantly. What the hell was with those two? Since when was Ragnar such a damn flirt?

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