He kills the engine and removes his helmet, like usual, probably to ask if I want company since Sean’s truck is not in the lot. Instead, tonight he says, “Not that I mind being your chauffeur or anything, but how much longer do you think your car is going to be in the shop?”
“Ah, no idea. Probably not much longer,” I lie.
The truth is, I left my car in the shop of a used car dealer last week…when I sold it to them to pay off Sean’s debt to the Dirty Aces.
“Do they have any idea what’s wrong with it?” Dev asks as he casually straddles his bike with the wind blowing his black locks around, making him look like a Hollywood actor in an action film or a model for some expensive cologne brand. “Whatever is wrong should’ve been fixed by now if they know what the fuck they’re doing,” he adds, running his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face. “If you want, one of my MC brothers owns a chop shop — I mean a, um, a mechanic shop. I could get him to check it out for you.”
“No thanks,” I say when I pull my phone out of my tote while trying to figure out how to get out of this lie. “You know what? I just got a text from the mechanic who said it’s ready. I’ll have Sean drop me off in the morning when he leaves for work, so you’re off the hook.”
“What if I don’t want to be off the hook?” he asks with a grin.
“Too bad. I’ve used up all of my favors with you.”
“I could give you a few more favors,” he says suggestively.
“Bye, Devlin. Be careful on that deathtrap,” I tell him.
“Says the woman who loves riding on said deathtrap,” he mutters.
“How do you know I love it?” I ask him curiously.
“Because from the very first day you climbed up on it without hesitation. Most girls treat my bike like a blood thirsty shark that’s going to bite them or kill them. You don’t.”
“I don’t?”
“Nope. You don’t hold on to me like you’re terrified I’ll wreck or throw you off. So, either you enjoy riding on the back, or you must really trust me.”
“It’s definitely the bike,” I say before I turn to walk away. I still don’t trust him completely. Not that Devlin’s ever given me a reason not to trust him, unlike my lying brother…
Devlin
* * *
Jetta’s lying to me. I don’t know how I know it; I just do.
It’s my own damn fault. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, asking her about her car. For whatever reason, the question caused her to make up the lie that her car is ready and that she’s going to get it tomorrow.
We’ll see about that.
I show up to her apartment bright and early in the morning to see how she gets to work, certain that it won’t be with Sean.
And I was right.
Jetta comes out around nine with her purse on her shoulder wearing sneakers. Then, she starts walking in the direction of the water park.
I climb off my bike I parked between two big SUVs on the other side of the lot to follow her on foot.
Once I’m certain that she’s not walking to any mechanic shop but to the park, I jog to catch up to her.
“Why are you walking to work?” I ask, coming to a stop next to her.
“Jesus freaking Christ, Devlin!” Jetta exclaims, clutching her chest and the purse on her shoulder like I just scared the shit out of her.
“Sorry for startling you, but you lied to me,” I remark as I catch up to her when she starts walking off.
“Lied?” she repeats like she has no idea what I’m talking about.
“I thought Sean was going to take you to get your car this morning.”
“Something came up,” she says. “I’m going to get my car after work.”
“Most mechanic shops close around five, so that will probably be tough to do if you don’t get off work until six.”
“I’m getting off early,” she grits out through clenched teeth. “Don’t you have to get to work this morning or need to go beat up some people?”
“Not until you tell me the truth.”
“Fine,” she huffs. Coming to a stop on the sidewalk, Jetta turns to face me with her fists clenched by her side. “I sold my car.”
“What? Why?”
“Why do you think?” she shouts as if it’s my fault…
“To pay off Sean’s debt,” I mutter in understanding. “No, baby. Why would you do that?”
“Because he’s my brother! He’s all the family I have after our parents split, and I don’t like seeing him hurt! Besides, he would do the same for me.”
“He needs to take responsibility for his own fuck ups, not have you come to his rescue,” I tell her. “It’s one thing if you had the money lying around and another to give up your only means of transportation. It’s dangerous for you to be walking alone! Why couldn’t Sean sell his truck and walk?”
“You don’t get to have an opinion on this since it’s all your fault!” she argues.
“My fault?” I scoff. “Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t hold a gun to Sean’s head and make him gamble away money he didn’t have.”
“Ugh! You’re so…infuriating!” she says before she takes off walking again. I hurry to catch up again because this conversation is not over. “Go away, Devlin!”
“No,” I tell her. “I’m walking you to work, and then I’m going to pick your ass up and drive you home this afternoon whether you like it or not!”
“Oh yeah? Well, you can’t make someone sit on the back of your bike!”
“Sure I can.”
“No, you can’t,” she challenges. “I don’t need you to give me a ride home. Walking is great exercise. It’s good for me.”
“You know what else would be good for you?” I start. “Getting away from your slack-ass brother!”
“Go fuck yourself, Devlin,” Jetta says.
“Fine. I’ll go. But I will see your ass at six!”
I don’t wait to hear her response before I turn around and start walking back to the parking lot where I left my bike. And then I catch up to Jetta, who is still walking, following her all the way to the water park to make sure no one bothers her.
Jesus, the woman is stubborn and too nice and sweet for her own good.
Why is that so fucking hot?
Jetta makes me want to be a better man, to take a page from her book about helping the people you care about. I care about her and won’t give up trying to show her how much.
Chapter Sixteen
Jetta
* * *
I told myself that under no circumstances would I get on the back of Devlin’s bike and let him give me a ride home.
That was before the afternoon thunderstorm came along. And since the water park is closed, I can either run all the way back home looking like a drowned rat, or I can walk across the street to the man standing underneath a giant black umbrella.
Sucking up my pride, I wait for the traffic to clear and march up to him. “Are you trying to get struck by lightning?” I ask him since the umbrella has a metal handle.