“What?”
Her eyes fall to where the boys just disappeared then back to me. “You’re staring awfully hard at the man in blue.”
I blush and shake my head at her words.
“I asked him to help. He’s helping.”
“Anderson hasn’t been around?”
“Nope.”
“Good. You don’t need that. But we both know who he is…” She pauses. “Just be careful. Because if he sees you with him…” she nods when August walks out, “… I’m not sure I’d like the outcome.”
I’m not sure I would either. It’s not that we think August couldn’t take on Anderson. No, we know that for sure he would have no problem. But Anderson has connections that could throw August straight back where he doesn’t want to be. Prison. And I would hate to think I had anything to do with that.
“Don’t stop being ‘friends’ with him. Noah said it’s good for him to get out.”
“Noah his daddy now?” I joke with her.
“No, but I have a feeling he is his only friend.” She nudges me. “Apart from you now, of course.”
“You two seem to be working hard,” Noah says, lifting his shirt and wiping his face.
The truck is now empty, and my lips turn up as August walks over to us.
“I’m treating for dinner, as a thank you,” I tell him, then look at my sister and Noah for confirmation.
“We can’t. Noah has a business thing tonight, and I’m going to keep him company. But you two should go.”
When I glance at August, he’s not even paying attention to me. He’s closing up the truck and doing his very best to ignore me. Turning back to my sister, I smile before Noah wraps his arms around her and they head inside the apartment.
“Dinner?” I ask as August closes the door, and his green eyes find mine.
“I need to change.”
“You can take my car and come back when you’re ready.” I throw my keys to him. August catches them and glances down at them as if they are on fire before he looks back at me.
“You trust me with your car?” I can’t help but notice the surprise in his intonation.
“Should I not?”
“I could steal it, sell it off for parts.”
“Okay, umm… you’re really not selling yourself here.” I laugh.
“Why do you trust me with your car?” he asks, pushing me a little harder.
“It’s just a car.”
He shakes his head, steps toward me, and tries to hand the keys back but I don’t take them. “I can find my own way home.”
“No, take the car, August. And come back for dinner. I’ll even order in if you want.”
“You want me to stay for dinner?”
“Yes. Now go, because you really do stink.” I push him away from me. I know he has his license, Noah told me, so I know he can drive, but the way he inspects the keys, you would think he’s won the Willy Wonka Golden Ticket.
“I’ve never willingly taken a car like this for a drive unless it was stolen,” he says, smirking. “Should I drive it like it's stolen, too?” he asks when he opens the door.
“You’re making me rethink this.”
He laughs, gets in, and starts the ignition. The window comes down, and he looks good in it.
“I’ll treat her real fiiine.” He winks before he pulls out.
Why, oh why, did those words hit something deep inside me?
He’s on time. I like that about him. He steps inside and past me, handing me the keys on the way. He smells fresh, and his hair is still wet.
While he was gone, I managed to tidy up some things and get them in order. I didn’t have to do much, just some bedding, which I bought brand-new, plus a dresser. All my other stuff I brought in the back of my car, and my sister and Noah helped bring the rest in their car as well. But I couldn’t carry it all by myself, and I could’ve paid for a mover, but being around August does something to me.
I like him.
A lot.
“Your parents own this place?” he asks, coming to sit at the table as I order food from my laptop.
“Indian?” I ask, to which he nods. “Yes. Rhianna wanted to move out. She and my mother clash a lot, so this was a happy medium,” I say, closing the laptop. “Thank you for your help today.”
“I’ll think of a way you can pay me back.”
“Well, you think on that and let me know.” I wink, standing and walking to the fridge. I pull out a bottle of wine I bought earlier, and grab two glasses, bringing it all back to the table. “You drink wine?”
“Do you intend to get me drunk, rich girl?” he asks as his arms come up on the table, crossing over one another. My eyes naturally go to his muscled hands and cross my legs.
“That wasn’t my intention, but now that you mention it, getting you drunk could be fun.”
“You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you? I’m not someone you want to be with. Is it amusing to you?” he asks. “To want me? And don’t even deny it, I see the way you stare at me.” I try to keep my cheeks from going pink, but there’s no way that’s going to happen.
“Why aren’t you someone I might want?” I manage to ask back.
“Because girls like you go for guys like Noah, not men like me.” His eyes lock on mine. “I’m bad for you. I would taint you, and you would enjoy it to the point where you keep coming back for more because you couldn’t stop when we both know you should.”
“You think a lot of yourself there, Auggie.” I smirk widely, and he scrunches up his face at the nickname.
“I know, I’ve seen it. Usually, it ends badly, and it’s not the little rich girl who gets hurt in the situation. It’s the poor guy who warned her.” He sits back, his hands disappearing under the table.
I hang on to his words and pour us each a glass of wine, sliding his over to him. I lift mine and drink, staring at him over the rim of the glass through my eyelashes. He doesn’t reach for his but watches me instead.
Placing the glass down, I tap the rim of it. “I’m more than some little rich girl. I’ve worked for everything I have. I paid for that car. I’ll be paying to live here. Yes, my family has money, and yes, I have benefited from that. But that does not mean I am any less or better than you.”
“What do you want from me, rich girl?” he asks. “Honestly. What do you want? You keep coming around, and you keep calling. What do you want?”
I pour myself another glass of wine and gulp it down, then look him straight in the eye. “I want you.”
His fingers tap on the table, then he stands. At first, I think he’s about to head straight out the door, but he comes to stand directly in front of me instead. He reaches down and moves the glass out of the way and puts his finger under my chin, tilting my head up to him.
“You just want to fuck. You don’t want me.”
“Why don’t you fuck me then?” I breathlessly whisper.
He smirks, and my heartbeat picks up.
“Just fucking?”
“Just fucking,” I repeat his words.