Page 15 of Fletch

“I’ll deal with it,” I say.

“You sure?”

I give a nod. It’s the least I can do, and she’s clearly struggling to let it go. “You want to empty it?” I ask, and she nods. “Come,” I say, unlocking the side door that leads into the workshop. “I’ve got some boxes too,” I tell her, grabbing a couple from a shelf.

She unlocks the car and slides into the driver’s seat. I open the passenger side and get in. “It’s a cute little car,” I say. “I took you for more of an Audi kind of girl.”

“Really?” she asks, arching a brow. “I got the Mini Cooper because my father hated them,” she admits, and I laugh.

“You were always trying to rebel. What’s he think of the surgeon?”

“Loves him,” she almost whispers. “They get on really well.”

I frown. “Strange.”

“Is it?”

“That you’d meet a man who gets along with your father, yeah. What do you think he’d make of me?”

She grins, resting her head back but keeping her eyes trained on me. “He hates tattoos.”

I smirk. “I bet he does.”

“The fact they’re on your face would send him over the edge.”

“Yeah, a nice addition, don’t you think?”

Her hand reaches out, brushing over my cheek. “Is it true what they say?” I wait for her to continue, enjoying the soft touch of her fingers as they trace my tatts. “Do these represent the people you’ve killed?”

I twist my head from her touch, and her hand drops to her lap. “I’ll let you pack your shit up.” It’s easy to forget the real reason she’s acting all nice, but she never fails to remind me.

I climb from the car, slamming the door and heading back to the office.

Half an hour passes before she reappears. I’m already with a customer, so she takes a seat as I rip off the receipt and hand it to the blonde who’s spent the last ten minutes flirting. Any other day, I’d probably have her out back sucking my cock, but something about having Gemma here puts me off.

“So, that number?” she repeats, taking the receipt.

I glance at Gemma, who quickly looks away. “Sure,” I mutter, grabbing a business card and scribbling my number on the back before handing it to her.

I wait for her to leave before lifting the partition and stepping through to where Gemma sits. “I called the scrap man. He’s gonna give you two hundred.”

“Wow, is that it?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it. I’m just waiting for a ride home,” she says. “I left the boxes in the garage,” she adds. “I didn’t realise how much crap I kept in the car.” She stands. “It’s the perfect business . . . for meeting women.”

I stare out the window, watching the blonde who is now chatting to Nyx, and I smirk. “Free and single these days, remember.”

“I wasn’t . . . judging. I’m just saying it’s surprising you’re still single when there are women throwing themselves at you like that.”

“There was a time when I’d have taken her out back,” I mutter. “Probably with Nyx,” I admit. “But . . .” I shake my head. “Never mind.”

Gemma steps closer. “Thanks for all your help with the car.”

“Am I likely to see you again?” I ask.

She smirks. “Depends.”

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