Page 30 of I Just Want to be Yours

No. No. No. No.

My car struggles for breath, gurgling and sputtering like it’s drowning. I try again, but when the key turns over, the same terrible noise hits my ears.

Shit.

I don’t have time for this. I don’t havemoneyfor this. My head falls against the steering wheel. This isn’t me. I amprepared.I don’t oversleep. I don’t show up late. I’m dependable and responsible and all the other “-ables,” but right now, I’m struggling.

Sucking in a breath, I lift my head. Why the hell am I sitting here? I have Rae—and Matt! I have lifelines.

Scrambling out of my car, I rack my brain for the odds that Rae and Matt haven’t left for the day. I run up the steps and down our hall until I’m panting at Matt’s front door. There’s a chance Rae may still be here, but I have no idea what Matt’s schedule is like. All I know is he’s usually home in the afternoon. My fist beats against the door as I glance down at my phone in my other hand. I will officially be late. There’s no way I’ll make it to work in eight minutes.

The door finally opens, but it’s not Rae or Matt standing in front of me. It’s Braden. His blond hair is a mess, his chest is bare, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, like he just rolled out of bed. Rubbing one eye, he squints at me with the other.

“Hey, Margot.” His voice is rough with sleep.

“Uh, hey . . .” I push up on the tips of my toes to look past him. Has he always been this tall?

He looks over his shoulder and then back at me. “I think Rae and Matt already left if that’s who you’re looking for.”

I drop on my heels. “Damn it.”

His blue eyes start to clear, and he considers me, his head tilting. “Is there something you need?”

I glance in the direction of my woeful car again, wondering if there’s another way. There isn’t. I know there isn’t. I’m stranded alone on this island with no one but him. Letting my eyes settle on him again, I finally take him in, and . . . damn. Does he always look like this, or is it just the magic of gray sweatpants? I stare longer than I should at his curved lines of clearly defined muscle. Does he go to the gym? He must.

Never mind. Not important.

Pointing in the direction of the parking lot, my shoulders drop. “My car won’t start, and I’m”—I look down at my phone for the time again—“definitely not getting to work in the next four minutes.”

“I’ll take you.” He leaves the door open and walks back into the apartment.

“What? Really?” I call after him, but I stay in the threshold like I don’t spend half my time here. There’s something about only Braden being home that makes this place feel off limits.

“Yeah, I just need to grab a shirt,” he calls over his shoulder.

Relief washes over me, but so does something else—something I can’t put my finger on. Like a nervous flutter and a flash of guilt. It disappears a moment later when he reappearswearing a white T-shirt with his sweatpants, and I let out a breath. “Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem.” He grabs his keys off the hook and gestures for me to take the lead down the stairs.

Braden’s car sits parked a few spaces over from mine, and I pick up my pace and jump inside as soon as he unlocks it with the fob.

As he gets in, he matches my urgency even though he isn’t late for anything. Without wasting time, he throws the car in reverse, backs out of the spot, and pulls out of our complex. Once we’re on the main road, I text Karah to let her know I’m running a few minutes late. She doesn’t respond. No dots appear, and I could really use a text of reassurance that this is okay. I don’t live far from the office, but my heart still pounds in my chest every time we’re forced to stop at a traffic light.

“Want me to take a look at your car while you’re at work?”

His voice tears my attention away from the glowing text thread on my screen. “Are you good with cars?”

A smile pulls at his lips, his blue eyes sparkling. “Depends on what’s wrong with it.”

I nod. “Yeah, that would be—well, that would be amazing. Thank you.”

“I can’t make any promises. Don’t thank me yet,” he says with a warm smile.

I do my best to smile back, but as wonderful as this is, it feels . . . weird. Would Jackson mind? Why am I even thinking about what Jackson would think? This is harmless. This is an innocent ride to work because my car won’t start. Just because Braden is attractive doesn’t mean I have to feel guilty about him helping me.

“What time do you get off?”

I blink, trying to clear my thoughts. “Five. Why?”

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