Page 102 of Flipping the Script

“Professional pain in my ass,” he grumbled.

“Actually, I think that would be you, since I haven’t gotten a turn at your ass yet.”

He made a weird sound, almost a squeak, but not quite, so it kind of sounded like a bird call.

Chuckling at his stunned silence, I finished getting the car up on the jack, then went to kneel next to him again.

“Now you can help,” I said. “Get the lug nuts off for me, will ya?”

He said something, but it was quiet enough that I didn’t catch it.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.” He fit the end of the wrench over one of the nuts. “Just calling you a bossy asshat.”

“Yeah, well, you called this bossy asshat for help, so I guess you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, his arms shaking as he tried to spin the wrench.

“Give it here.” I held out my hand.

“I’ve got it,” he snapped, putting his whole body behind each pull. “Goddamn it!” He pulled harder, rocking back and forth as he tried to get it to move. “Come on, you stupid son of a bitch. Comeon!”

“Bas—”

“Fuck!” He let go of the wrench and fell back on his ass. “Fuck,” he repeated softly, his shoulders stooped and his head down.

“Bas.” I grabbed his wrists, stopping him before he could put his head in his hands. They were covered in mud, and this tantrum wasn’t about the lug nuts.

A flash of red on his palm caught my attention. Was he hurt?

I twisted his hand toward me so I could take a better look.

He wrenched his wrists out of my grip. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine,” he snapped.

I knew he was acting out because of the situation, not necessarily because of me. But I was also in a pissy mood and soaking wet, so I wasn’t able to muster up much understanding just then.

“Either help me with this or get your sulking ass into your car and get the fuck out of my way.”

He went tense, his expression shifting into a glare. With all the grace of an apex predator, he shifted onto his knees, our arms close enough I could feel his body heat through our wet shirts.

Silently, I worked the wrench off the nut and handed it back to him.

He shot me a surprised look. Bas wasn’t some skinny weakling. He could get the nuts off; that first one was probably tighter than the rest.

“You sure you trust me with this?” he asked, waving the wrench in my face.

“Try the next one if your hand is okay,” I said, knowing the challenge would light a fire under him.

I was right, and he worked off four of the five nuts with no trouble. Together, we managed to get the last one off.

We got the new tire on and the car down off the jack without any more drama.

“Did you damage anything else when you popped the tire?” I motioned to the scrapes and damage to his undercarriage. It was too dark to see the extent of it, but it looked superficial.

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