Page 30 of Wolf.e

Her breath hitches like she thinks I may hurt her. If she keeps looking at me like this, I might, but I’d make sure she fucking loved it.

I reach into Brinley’s front pocket and pull her keys out. I let go of her and she moves quickly between her truck and the car beside it, trying to get out of my way. I have a quick look at the disaster in front of me.

“What you brought me is a half eaten electrical system. Probably mice, I don’t even know how you made it here.”

“Crap,” she mutters, looking down then back into my eyes.

“It’s not normal for a truck this age to have this wiring. Did someone restore this?” I ask as I continue to inspect.

“My dad,” Brinley answers, tightening her long ponytail.

I watch the worry grow on her face, seeing the dollar signs add up as I tell her all the things she’s going to have to replace.

“Big Mike will give you a detailed breakdown, but…” I think for a second. “Are you planning on selling it? Is that why you want to have it fixed?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about it. For the front porch Layla mentioned last night.”

“We can work something out,” I tell her, closing the hood. I crouch down and start at the front of the truck, running my hand along to scan the body,

“I, um… just don’t want to be involved in anything… less than above board,” she says.

This woman really has no idea what it means to be socially aware. She’s basically insinuating I’m a criminal. I mean, I am, but still.

I stand and start to make my way to the back of the truck, sandwiching her against the truck. She backs up, as if she could disappear into it but not before every part of me grazes every part of her and that fluttering pulse lights up at her throat. I pause against her just because I want to feel her.

“You don’t know me and you don’t trust me,” I tell her the obvious, caging her in with both my hands on either side of her. “But we’ll get one thing straight right now. I don’t like being an assumption. This is an above-board business you’re at.”

“Okay,” she says. “S-sorry I wasn’t sure.”

“Because I run a motorcycle club, you think I’m going to rip you off?” I ask her.

I push off the truck and uncage her, putting space between us. Brinley takes a deep, shaky breath, but she doesn’t move.

I pop a glove back on and run my hand across the bottom part of her door. Rust falls off as I go. “I’m less likely to rip you off because I run a motorcycle club. Street sense 101. We have integrity,” I tell her.

“Of course.” Brinley agrees but only out of fear.

“How bad is it?” she asks, changing the subject, watching me check the rest of the truck over. I stand and stuff my gloves in the back pocket of my coveralls.

“It’s rough. It's a lot of work to restore the body. That hasn’t ever been done before, has it?”

“I don’t think so,” she says, confirming what I already know.

“We’ll make it the same robin's egg blue it’s supposed to be now.”

“How much will it be?” she asks, blocking the sun from her eyes with her hand.

“Like I said, we can work something out.” I move closer to her. “You don’t pay me or Mike until you sell it. You’ll get double the restoration cost. I can guarantee it. I even know some people who may be interested in buying.”

Brinley drops her hand, and her eyes hold the sun. It turns them such a light shade of blue they almost take my breath away. She looks at the truck then back at me.

“Can I think about it?”

“Nope.” I drop her keys into my pocket. “No one else will look after you the way I will. It would also be a safety hazard for me to just let you drive it home.”

She gives a haughty look to deter me but it only serves to show me the smallest spark of fire I know is lurking under her prim and proper surface.

“I wasn’t going to drive home. The neighbor I was telling you about? He offered, he’s picking me up—” she says at the precise moment a little beige sedan pulls into the parking lot.

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