Page 87 of Escaping Our Reality

And I let him know that I’m no longer sore.

Chapter 36

ELLA

“I really appreciate you kids staying late tonight.” Harlan squeezes me in one last hug before heading out the door.

“Harlan, it’s just a normal Friday night. You act like we gave up Super Bowl tickets to stay and watch the garage tonight.”

Ry reaches up, grabbing the frame of the garage bay. His shirt rides up, granting me a quick glimpse of his green boxer briefs and the muscular V that dips low beneath the band of his jeans and belt buckle.

Harlan catches me staring at Ry, and I blush.

He chuckles. “May not be the Super Bowl, but some kind of scoring may be going on tonight.”

My scream echoes across the parking lot. “Harlan! And to think I was gonna say you looked nice all dressed up.”

He puffs his chest out and runs his hands over the buttons of his shirt, taking my back-handed compliment at face value. “Thank you, Ella. Crutch, take care of our girl.”

He smirks, lowering his hands and pulling a white towel from his back pocket. “I always do.”

Harlan canceled his poker game tonight to go to a party at his son’s house. Today is his daughter-in-law’s birthday, and there is a huge surprise party for her. Ry and I agreed to watch the body shop. A customer is supposed to drop a vehicle off for service sometime between seven and eight tonight on their way out of town for vacation.

Once we’re alone, I sit back down in what has become my designated rolling chair, the chair where I spend most of my freetime at the garage, watching Ry and Harlan work on cars. Over the weeks, Harlan has taught me how to work the register, order parts, and stock inventory. I like helping out where I can. But my main goal right now is to quickly finish my Advanced Biology homework so it’s not hanging over me all weekend.

Ry leans down, pressing on the arms of my chair, locking my body into place. His growl is possessive and hungry, and it stirs a hot need low in my belly. “You’re staying this weekend, right?”

I tilt my head. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

He stands up, distemper quickly shadowing his face. “Right, the deal.”

I purse my lips. “Ryland Joseph Crutchfield, put on your big girl panties and stop complaining. You think I’m looking forward to it? The thought of you being by my side is the only way I can muster the idea of attending this function.”

Grabbing the laptop from my hand, he carefully lays it on the small table beside me. With me, he’s not so careful. And damn, I love it. He forcefully yanks me from the chair, slamming my body against his. He grabs my ass with both hands. An electric shot of desire courses from my head to my toes. “I prefer not to wear women’s underwear. I find them constrictive. So how about you wear no panties at all tomorrow, and I’ll stop complaining.”

“How about you stop complaining and I’llthinkabout wearing no panties tomorrow.”

He grunts. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“It’s all part of our game, isn’t it?”

He gently kisses the tip of my nose. “Game on.” Releasing me, leaving me wanting, he disappears into the bathroom for a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he walks back out to join me, drinking a beer. His hair is still damp, and he’s wearing cargo shorts and a mint green Harlan’s Garage and Automotive shirt. His clothesand skin are always so clean. For someone who works with grease all day, every day, you’ve never met someone with as good of hygiene as Ry.

“After the customer comes, do you wanna go get something to eat? Or do you want me make something here? I’ve got stuff for sandwiches or—”

Ry is cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. The cell phone I gave him. We both look at one another. I’m sitting right in front of him, and we both know I’m not calling. Ry doesn’t really have anyone else who calls him on the cell phone besides me—well, except for Harlan and the nursing home. He refuses to give the number to Trash or his parents. Digging the phone from his pocket, he answers.

“Hey, Harlan. You okay? You forget something?”

Finished with my school work, I close the laptop and stand, twisting the knots from my back, listening to his one-sided conversation.

“Okay. It happened where?”

…

“And you’re sure you’re okay?”

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