Page 7 of Blast from the Past

“Let’s do it,” I say, gesturing for her to go first.

For a moment I think she is going to say something. But she just shakes her head and walks her jean-clad ass out onto the sidewalk. I know I’m a bastard, but I can’t get my gaze off her.

****

Mercy West

The garage is exactly what I remember. Two pumps and two work bays. It’s perfect for what we want to do, and I know I’ll be signing the contract today. Marco and Antonio are going to love this place.

“It needs some attention,” Shane says as I walk around the space.

“There is an apartment upstairs, correct?” I ask, not looking at him.

This man does ridiculous things to my hormones. One minute I want to hit him with my car and the next I want to jump on him and beg him to fuck my brains out. I hate feeling this constant up and down with him, with anyone for that matter.

“There is,” he says lowly. “But you have the house. Or are you looking to rent it out?”

“Not at all,” I reply, checking out the office space. “How many rooms?”

“Two. Are you going to rent out the apartment then?”

“You’re being nosy.”

“It’s my job. If you’re going to be listing it, I would like thecommission.”

I finally look at him. His jaw is clenched as are his fists at his sides. This isn’t just about a commission on a rental, but I can’t figure out what it could be. He looks pissed off right now and none of this makes sense.

“Marco and Antonio, my business partners, will need somewhere to live until they find something more permanent.” I watch his shoulders sag, and all the anger leaves him, and it finally clicks. “Oh my God,” I gasp.

“What?” His gaze collides with mine. “Is there something wrong?”

“You were jealous,” I accuse.

“I was not.” If it weren’t for the flush of color on his cheeks, he would have gotten away with the lie.

“Shay…” I sigh, stepping closer to him. “If we are going to be around each other, we need to clear the air. We can’t continue fighting like this. We live in the same town, I work for your brother, we are bound to end up around each other whether you like it or not. This isn’t healthy and I sure as shit don’t enjoy being the topic of gossip around town.”

He stares at me, his gaze like a caress across every inch of my face before he speaks.

“Fine,” he admits, begrudgingly. “I may have been a little jealous.”

“You thought Marco was my man?” I ask, placing a hand on his chest over his perfectly pressed dark blue button-up shirt.

I have imagined this moment more times than is probably healthy. The opportunity to clear the air between us and find out what went wrong so many years ago. My chance to finally tell him how I feel and maybe even have the man I have always wanted.

“Mercy,” he says lowly, his heart beating rapidly against my palm. “Now isn’t the time or place to talk about any of this.”

“It never is,” I reply. “But I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The truth. For years we were inseparable and then you started treating me like trash. I want to know why. I want to know why you would get jealous thinking I have a man in my life. I want to know why you’re always angry when I’m around.”

“Merc—”

But I cut him off. “I never did anything to you and if I did, I deserve to know.”

I don’t expect his next move, but I find myself wrapped in his muscular arms, my face pressed against his solid chest. For long moments, he simply holds me before pushing me away until I’m at arm’s-length. His gaze once more caresses my face as he studies me.

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