Page 44 of Not Fooling Anyone

“You can’t help how you react to things.”

“I don’t know if I would have gotten through it without you,” I admit, the light scratches he makes along my back opening up some kind of reserve within me.

“You would have. You’re strong.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. He’s kidding, right? I run from my problems all the time. Like I did earlier with him, actually. “Well, thank you, anyway. I might have blown it all otherwise.”

“It was no problem. Seriously.” His hand moves up my back, trailing over my neck, to my chin, tipping it up so I meet his gaze. “And you don’t owe me anything for it.”

Damn. How’d he know that’s where my mind had gone?

I step away, realizing how close our faces are, and undo the velcro fasteners of my gloves. “I’m all done boxing for the night.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah, me too.”

He grabs his gym bag and follows me to Marty’s office, where I close out of the accounting software up on the screen and shoulder my backpack. On the way out, he waves to Steve, still working with that guy in the ring, and we walk up the basement level steps to the street, his SUV parked next to my rust bucket.

I open my door, the hinges screeching as they always do. Crap. I meant to do something about that.

“Wait a second,” he says, opening his passenger door to search for something inside. He turns back around after a minute holding a can in his hand, triumph on his face. “Look what I’ve got.”

I take a closer peek, the wordswhite lithium greasein bold letters on the front. That means next to nothing to me, though. “I have no idea.”

“Watch and be amazed,” he tells me, opening my driver’s side door wider to spray the contents of the can on the hinges. He opens and closes it a few times, working the grease in, and somehow, magically, it stops squeaking.

“Holy crap.”

“I know, right?” He walks around to the other side of the car and does the same on the passenger door, then both backseat doors. “I noticed the sound when I dropped you at your car last week.”

“You had that stuff at home?”

He flips the can in mid-air, pretending to blow it off like it’s a smoking gun. “Got it at work.”

“Where do you work?” How have I not asked him that already?

“Bill’s Hardware.”

“Oh, that’s, what? Five minutes from here? Down that way, right?” I point in a southward direction. “With the red sign.”

“Yep.” He tosses the can back in his passenger seat, the action serving as a natural end to our conversation.

But for some reason, I find myself not wanting to leave just yet. Travis texted earlier that he’s spending the night at Isaac’s, so it’ll be me alone at home tonight.

“Do you, um, like working there?”

He squints at me. “Are you making small talk? The Lexie I know wouldn’t do that.”

I bite my lip, not keeping my grin very well contained, and push his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Delight flares in his gaze. “If an alien’s taken over your brain, blink twice. Three times if you’re possessed by something else.”

“I can have conversations,” I insist. “I just don’t make small talk with people I don’t know.” One of my shoulders lifts in a shrug. “But I know you now.”

He nods, grinning back at me. “To answer your question, yes, I like working there. My brother is the assistant manager, so I can get away with pretty much anything.”

“And which brother is this? Wait, don’t tell me.” I mentally go through the family information of his I memorized on the off chance it comes up in the lab. “I’m going with Scott, since he’s the oldest.”

He points at me, brows narrowing slightly. “Yes. You remembered my brother’s name?”

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