Page 97 of Outcast
Damn, I wanted to kiss him when he said shit like that. I settled for tapping his foot with mine. “I wanted to know you back then. Had a pretty embarrassing crush.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did.”
Emory laughed, his whole face lighting up. “You’ve got to be kidding. You were always brooding in a corner, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else.”
“So youdidnotice me,” I joked.
Emory smiled faintly. “I was stuck in my little bubble, or maybe I’d have realized what I was missing.”
“Well, I knew what I was missing, golden boy.”
Emory’s forehead creased at the term, and I lifted my thumb to smooth it out.
“I know your life’s not perfect. No one’s is. I call you golden boy because you’re pretty damn perfect to me. So please don’t ask me to stop.”
His breath caught, eyes catching mine. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I picked up my beer. “You saw my brother mocking the shit out of me for being all swoony over you.”
Emory chuckled. “Pretty sure I’m the one swooning.”
“Maybe it’s a mutual swoon.” I nodded my head toward the table. “Come on, let’s have a drink with them. Then maybe we can blow this popsicle stand. Get the house to ourselves for a while before they come home.”
“Good idea.” Emory fell into step with me. “Allison and her boyfriend are borrowing my apartment tonight. Do you mind if I stay later than usual?”
I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. “Stay as long as you like, Em. There’s no time limit on my bed.”
He brushed his shoulder against mine. “Good to know.”
Holden and Axel were arguing about work when we returned to the table, but what was new? When you lived together and worked together, you tended to talk shop a lot.
“I can’t keep covering all the dang towing,” Axel said. “The junkyard?—”
“Isn’tthatbusy,” Holden said. “We need Bailey on vehicle repair because Jose isn’t up to doing as much as he used to, and I’ve got paperwork coming out my ass.” He flicked a glance at us as we sat down.
“Sorry,” Emory said. “That’s at least partly my fault.”
“Nah, you saved our asses,” Holden said. “We appreciate it. And thanks to Gray’s bike skills, we’re building up the business. It just means more work for us all.”
Axel frowned. “The junkyard doesn’t run itself. I know itseemslike passive income, but I have to track down the parts people want to find—including the shit Bailey needs for repairs—and I have to examine all junk coming in and assign it a value, not to mention maintaining the place.”
“It’s a lot of work,” I agreed, remembering a few shifts out at the junkyard as a teenager. I’d disliked it because the old man always had some maintenance project or another out there.
“Thank you,” Axel said.
“I’d bring in Jose more, but he’s semi-retired. He just can’t handle more shifts, and he’s moving slower than he used to.”
“Are you all looking for help, then?” Emory asked.
Holden hesitated. “Well, I don’t know. What we need is some part-time help as we expand. Maybe it can be more later, but…it’s one of those Catch-22’s, you know? You’ve got to put money into the business to build it, but there’s risks to that too.”
Emory nodded. “Well, I might know someone who’d be interested in some work. He’d take anything you could offer.”
“What’s the catch?” Axel asked, eyes narrowed.
“No catch, except, well, he’s an ex-con.”
