Page 32 of Wolf.e
“Can I think about it?”
“Nope.” I drop her keys into my pocket. “No one else will look after you the way I will. It would also be a safety hazard for me to just let you drive it home.”
She gives a haughty look to deter me but it only serves to show me the smallest spark of fire I know is lurking under her prim and proper surface.
“I wasn’t going to drive home. The neighbor I was telling you about? He offered, he’s picking me up—” she says at the precise moment a little beige sedan pulls into the parking lot.
I’m ready to tell her I’ll be driving her home, not some fucking guy I don’t know, when I see he’s about seventy-five years old. He waves at her with a wrinkly smile and then at me and I realize he’s a customer of Mike’s.
“Yeah okay, give me your phone,” I tell her, waving at him.
Brinley looks as if she’s unsure, and I start to lose a little patience.
I hold my hand out. “You expect Mike to call the price out to you down the middle of Main?” I ask her gruffly.
She reaches into her pocket without looking away, unlocks it and hands it to me, folding her hands in front of her while she waits. I add my information to it, text myself and hold it back out to her. She goes to take it and I pull it away.
Brinley scoffs and that little spark surfaces again as she reaches.
“We’re not ten, just give it back.” She looks back at her happy neighbor. “I don’t want to make him wait.”
I decide I like Brinley Beaumont a little annoyed and fired up.
“Make sure you answer it when I call,” I tell her firmly, unmoving. She looks up at it then back at me. “Fine,” she says, reaching for the phone. I let her take it and she practically runs from me to the passenger side of the old man’s car, stuffing it in her pocket.
“Goodbye, Mr. Wolfe,” she says in a tone that’s meant to be businesslike but makes my cock twitch as she slinks into the front seat.
See you soon, hummingbird. Real soon.
Chapter 15
Brinley
I can’t shake this man. He owns the only body shop in town? Aren’t outlaws supposed to do like, outlaw things as opposed to working a nine-to-five job like everyone else?
I must be losing my mind because I left my dad’s pride and joy—albeit rusty pride and joy—with the biker president who sucks all the air from my lungs. Especially when he’s all masculine and dirty from working with his strong hands and bike parts all morning. I’m putting myself into an environment where I will see himagaintonight.
I text Layla as Mr. Kennedy cruises through town singing to John Prine on the local country station.
I thought you said he’d be ignoring me by now?
PB
He should be.
Well, he’s not, in fact he seems to want to unnerve me every chance he gets
PB
Interesting. I’ve never seen this before. You’re like a shiny new toy.
I roll my eyes
Lucky me.
PB
A science experiment of sorts one would say.
