Page 33 of Indigo

I’m honestly surprised by how welcoming everyone’s been so far. Each of them has helped me out whenever I’ve gotten stuck, though I try to keep them out of the office when customers are here, per Jagger’s warning, as they’ve all got dirty mouths and a flirtatious sense of humour.

The comments they make to me, and each other, are all in good fun, but Pax doesn’t seem to agree. He’s already snapped at each of them more times than I can count for even looking my way for too long, but they don’t pay him any attention, like me, and wait until he leaves the room to continue.

“Jag said you’re doing well, Indie.” Matt walks toward me, wiping off his oil-stained hands with a dirty rag. He’s fucking beautiful. Golden-brown skin, bright green eyes, gorgeous smile and, to top it off, an American accent. The way he looks at Jagger is swoon-worthy and the two of them act as though the rest of us don’t know what they’re doing when they both sneak off to his office in the middle of the day.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it sorted now. I just have to learn a little more about what you actually do to make myself more useful. I still have to grab Pax or Jagger whenever a customer is asking about the price of something that isn’t on the list.”

Matt nods along as I speak. “Hey, no sweat. It’ll take you some time.”

“I can teach you, Indie,” Callum says from behind Matt, grinning at me mischievously. He’s the biggest flirt of them all, and not just with me, with everyone. Customers, delivery drivers, the other guys. Everyone. “We could do private lessons, one on one. You have no idea how much I could teach you,” he coos, pushing his shaggy black hair from his face, the freckles on his cheeks mixing with the dirt splatters. Tall and lean with piercing, ocean blue eyes, he looks more like a model than a mechanic, but you can tell how much he loves his job from the look in his eyes every time I tell him another customer has requested him to work on their car specifically.

I roll my eyes, knowing he’s all bark and no damn bite.

“Or you could do what I fucking pay you to do and fix that damn car I’ve been on your case about for the past four days,” Pax snaps from behind me.

Oh dear.

Callum holds his hands up in surrender, slowly backing away, his eyes still on me. “Call me,” he mouths, winking, before he turns tail and disappears behind the cement half-wall separating their working spaces.

As I turn to face Pax, he winks at me, thankfully not as pissed as his voice insinuated. I take him in, in all his glory, standing there in a loose fitting pair of ripped jeans, and a tight black t-shirt that fits him like a glove to the point where I can see the outline of his abs when he moves a certain way. In saying that, all of us are wearing the same shirt with the Shep Auto logo on the left side of our chests, but none of us wear it quite as well as Pax does.

He goes to speak, but his phone rings in his pocket. “You alright?” he asks, holding his phone in one hand, his thumb lingering over the accept button on the screen, waiting for my answer. As soon as I nod back, he answers the call and turns around and heads back down the hallway to his office, disappearing from sight.

Shaking my head at the guys behind me, all making kissy noises, I walk back to my desk to find a post-it note stuck to my computer screen.

I don’t share, Blue. Don’t make me spank that pretty little ass for flirting with my staff.

I shake my head and giggle to myself, glancing over my shoulder in the direction he just went. For a man that has made his intentions very clear from the moment he stepped foot in my apartment, he’s been incredibly slow to actually make a move.

It’s been three weeks.

I’ve been waiting, holding my breath every time he gets a little too close, which at the moment is every damn day. The man hovers. He worries. He’s driving me insane. One minute, he’ll look at me like he’s imagining what I look like naked, and the next he’s fussing over me like I’m a porcelain doll he’s scared of breaking. He’s at my place more than his own, and we’ve even smashed through the first five seasons of Gilmore Girls together, curled up on my ugly ass couch, under my equally unattractive crochet blanket.

A normal response would be to just flat out ask what he wants, why he hasn’t pushed for more than the friendship we’ve re-built, but all I see in my head when I think of startingthatparticular conversation is the look on his face when he told menofour years ago. I really don’t need to experience that all over again. So instead, I’m taking the coward's way out and leaving it up to him.

I pull my phone from the drawer I keep it in during the day to send him a message, something along the lines of, ‘don’t threaten me with a good time’, but freeze as I read the notifications lighting up my screen.

MICHAEL:You ended your fucking lease? Without telling me? What the fuck?

MICHAEL:I’ll find out where you are, Indigo.

My stomach churns as I read the last of the message.

MICHAEL:Ah, ran home to mummy, I see. How cliché.

My eyes dart back to the direction of Pax’s office, where he currently is. I should tell him, right? Or should I? He’s going to be pissed, and I doubt Michael would actually drive the three hours it takes to get here just to cause a scene. It took him this long to realise I’d moved, so…

I try to convince myself of the fact over and over, but doubt creeps into my mind. A bruised ego to a man like Michael may be enough motivation to actually see his threats through, and I have no idea how he knows I’m here.

Maybe he just assumed…

Shit, maybe I should tell Pax.

“Everything alright?” Pax asks, taking me by surprise, making me drop my phone onto the desk and scramble to lock it before he gets to my side. “Blue?” he asks, sounding a little concerned by my behaviour.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, you just scared me. I was in a world of my own,” I say, putting on my best fake smile.

He reaches out and grabs my chin between his fingers, holding me in place so he can look into my eyes. “You sure?”

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