Page 30 of Escaping Our Reality

And we’re interrupted.

“Well, hello, there. Anything I can help you with, miss?”

I quickly step back from Ry, squaring my shoulders and standing straight. Not because I’m embarrassed to be next to him, but because I can’t think when I’m that close to him. He eats away at my brain cells, like my own personal drug.

It’s obvious that I’m more of a junkie than my sister.

One simple taste and I’m hooked.

Ry notices my change in demeanor and chuckles before turning away. His arm moves in front of him, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s adjusting an erection. That thought really makes me feel like a woman. Not a girl. But a woman.

Our intruder can only be Harlan. I don’t have to think too hard about that because his mechanic’s shirt does have ‘Harlan’ embroidered on it. He’s a couple of inches shorter than me, with white hair and kind blue eyes.

“Hi, sir. I’m a friend of… Crutch.” It takes me several seconds to actually remember the name everyone else calls him. “I just came here to visit him. I’m sorry; I didn’t ask if he was allowed to have visitors at work. I hope it’s okay.”

He grunts. “How good of a friend are you if you can’t remember his name?”

I glance over at Ry, who’s leaning against the car with a very bemused look etched on his face. Evil bastard obviously likes it when I’m tongue tied and out of control.

“Well, I can’t say aloud the name I usually call him in private. It’s not suitable for the ears of elders.”

Harlan doesn’t smile.

Shit. I’ve gone too far. My parents would die if they heard that.

I’m about to profusely apologize when Harlan bursts out laughing and wrestles me into a hug.

I don’t get hugged by adults often. My Uncle Ray and Aunt Teresa hug me. Detective Marcum hugs me on occasion. And the truth is… I secretly love hugs. Well, I love hugs when they come from the right people. And something tells me Harlan is the right kind of person.

“He didn’t tell me you were so funny,” Harlan says.

I glance over my shoulder, catching Ry in a rare moment of embarrassment. Pushing away from the car, he pretends to busy himself, but the only thing he can think to do is lift his baseball cap, fuss with his hair, and settle it back on his head.

He talked about me?

Harlan squeezes my shoulder. “The kid’s just finishing. Come with me. I’ll get you a cold drink while you wait.” We walk through the garage and a small, cluttered office, winding around to a small kitchen. There’s a fridge, microwave, and oven with a range. He motions for me to take a seat at the table and joins me after grabbing two Diet Cokes from the fridge.

“A friend of Crutch’s, huh?” he asks.

“Yes, sir. We met just the other night.”

“Well, he mentioned meeting a lady. He used the word friend too, but I gathered there might be more to the story.”

“Oh.” I take a sip of my drink, trying to stop myself from asking questions that I shouldn’t. The stall tactic doesn’t work, and the words come out of my big fat mouth without any hesitation. “So, does he have a lot offriendswho visit him here?”

“No one has ever come to visit Crutch at work. Unless you count that worthless brother of his. And sometimes his parents will come, asking him for money. But no other ladies, if that’s what you’re trying to hint around about.”

I point my chin in the air. “Yes, that’s what I’m trying to ask about.”

Harlan laughs. “No beating around the bush, huh?”

“Ry likes it when I get to the point.”

“Ry? That’s what you call him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what’s your name, honey?”

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