Not enough, that’s what.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Reed?” I venture, well aware that she might rightfully tell me to mind my own business.
She looks around like Reed might actually be here, so I automatically do the same but don’t see him anywhere. Erica must not either because she sighs.
“We grew up together at the garage because our dads are friends. We dated in high school and Dad thought . . . hell, everyone thought . . . that Reed and I were going to get married.” She pauses, and I pray there’s a big ‘but’ coming. “I didn’t want that, not then, and not with him. So I bailed, took the easy way out and ran away to the Army. It wasn’t the only reason, but it was a big one.”
“And now that you’re back, he thinks you’re going to pick right back up where you left off?” I guess, which is a pretty easy leap given his alternating possessive and forlorn puppy dog behavior toward her.
Her nod is clipped. “There’s a lot of history there. We were each other’s first relationship, first everything. And I love him, but not like that, never like that. He’s a great friend, always was, and now, he’s a good coworker too, but that’s it. No matter what Reed, Dad, or Uncle Smitty think.”
“Or Wilson,” I add, glad that I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes here. Well, I’m sure Reed thinks I am, but Erica hasn’t been his in quite some time, by the sound of it.
She laughs and agrees. “Or Wilson.” Her face goes a bit blank in a blink, and I can see a guard dropping over her. “Listen, Brody. Last night was amazing . . .”
“Motherfucker, are you dumping me at the damn car show?” I interrupt, somehow both horrified and amused. And maybe a little turned on. Girls don’t dump me, not because I’m the dumper and not the dumpee, but because it’s always been a casual thing, nothing serious since I’ve been way too busy being a family man for brothers and sisters. Failing spectacularly at it, too, but that’s not really the point of her ditching me.
And damned if her trying to put a bit of distance between us doesn’t make me want to chase her. Shit, maybe I’m no better than Reed after all. One little taste and I’m addicted to Erica’s sour-sweet combo.
She doesn’t smile. “I want to be clear. I don’t have a lot of time in my schedule for this.” She moves a hand from her chest to mine. “I’ve got the garage and it keeps me busy. Like ridiculously fucking busy. So if you’re looking for someone to call and show up, be available for dates, and hell, take showers, shave, and put on dresses, I’m not that girl.”
I look her up and down slowly and methodically, letting her know I’m not missing an inch of her. Her hair’s back up in that knot on top of her head, the one I’ve realized keeps her long locks from getting tangled when she’s dipping in and out from underneath hoods, and her bare face puts her freckles on display. She’s wearing a Beartooth band T-shirt, a group I’ve definitely never heard of but judging by the shirt is apparently something to do with acid-tripping alien UFOs and snakes, a fresh pair of cutoffs, this time black with a bit of white paint spattered on them, and those steel-toed boots she already pushed me away with once before on her feet.
“I see you, Erica. Badass, beautiful, and way out of my league. If you’re looking to get married, sounds like you’ve already got an offer on that. But if you want to just hang out when we have time and see what comes up, I’m good with that.” I shrug, hoping it reads as casual. “Like I said, it doesn’t have to be a thing.”
I mean it. I really do. I’m not looking to get married either and am quite busy myself, actually, since we’ve got to get the cows to market soon. But I definitely wouldn’t object to spending what free time we do have together, preferably in bed, but at car shows if we have to.
Hell, maybe I’ll take her to the market auction when we sell the cattle. A bit of tit for tat. I listen to her talk cars with the guys and she can listen to me drone on about the price of cattle with the other ranchers. Something tells me she won’t find my cow knowledge nearly as sexy as I find her car knowledge, though.
She squints like she’s looking beneath my hood too, figuring out all my parts and pieces the way she does a broken-down car. “All right. If you say so. Just don’t come crying to me when you get your heart broken because I’m up to my eyeballs in transmission repairs and can’t suck your dick for a while.”
My eyes cross. Holy hell, this woman.
I growl, throwing my arm over her shoulder and pulling her to my side. “Show me some cars or something, Erica, or I’m gonna find the nearest deserted corner of this lot and let you do that now.”
She flutters her lashes before smirking. “What? Suck your dick?”
Goddamn it. I adjust myself in my jeans, looking for more room as they get too tight. Her dirty talk is brazen, like some curse-laden version of a weird love spell, but fuck, does it work for me. Or maybe it’s not the words. It’s just her.
Having won this round, she licks her finger and makes a tally mark in the air. “Oh, by the way, no fucking on school property. That’s probably a felony, don’t ya think? And wrong and gross even if it’s not.”
“Is a felony a deal breaker for you?” I tease back, an oh-shit look on my face.
“Seriously?” she hisses.
“Nah.” I laugh. “Got a misdemeanor charge for fighting once, spent a couple of nights sobering up in the drunk tank when I was younger, and definitely had some black eyes, but nothing felonious.” I don’t tell her that Dad was the primary giver of those black eyes. It’s not like it sounds, anyway. He was just raging. Hell, we all were raging. He took out his shit on me. I took out my shit on him. And now it’s done. “You?”
She knocks on her head like it’s a piece of wood. “Nope, not planning on getting caught, either.”
She doesn’t say she’s not planning on committing any felonies, I think with a smirk, wondering just where she’s thinking about fucking. She’s right, the school’s probably a bad idea, but there are some old dirt roads on the mountain, federal reserve land that no one goes on except the occasional ranger. We could definitely get up to something there . . . and most likely, not get caught.
I put a pin in that idea as she starts walking again. We look at some newer model cars, ones I can mostly identify. Mustang, Camaro, and a few Corvettes.
A mullet-haired blond kid in baggy jeans, probably no more than twenty, judging by his smooth jawline, waves at Erica, and she gives him a friendly smile. I’m already directing her that way, knowing she’ll want to talk to the guy, but she puts a hand on my chest. “Hey, would you mind grabbing me a Coke?” She points at a vendor on the far side of the line of cars. “I’ll meet you right here, by Todd’s Challenger. That’s the purple one.” She winks as she says it, teasing me.
I look from her to Todd, trying to get a read. “Yeah, sure . . . be right back.”
I use the full breadth of my strides to get to the drink vendor, not shortening them for Lil Bit’s stride the way I’ve been doing the rest of the day, and get back with a cold can of Coke in record time. Not that there’s a record for that, but if there were, I’d have just beaten it because I was damn fast.