I come up beside him. "I can't leave you with your head bleeding. I really think you need to see a doctor. You might need stitches."
"What are you doing here?" he asks as he reaches behind the engine to tighten something with the wrench.
"I came over to—wait, do you mean why am I here in town or why I am in your garage?"
"Either. Pick one."
"Okay, well, I'm here in town to go to grad school. I'll be staying at the house next door until I graduate."
"And then what?" He sets the wrench down and reaches back to undo a screw with his hand.
"Hopefully I'll get a job. I'm not sure where. I grew up in Colorado but I don't know if I'll go back there. My mom moved to California so I really don't have a reason to go back to Colorado although my friend, Jules, still lives there." I stop talking, realizing he doesn't want to hear my whole life story. I don't even think he's listening, his attention focused on loosening the bolts of whatever part of the car he's working on. I have no clue what he's doing. I know almost nothing about cars, although I do know how to change a tire.
"What about the old lady?"
"My grandma?"
"Your grandma, huh?" He huffs. "Makes sense."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
“You’re just like her. Nosing around in shit that's not your business? Not knowing how to leave people alone?"
I plant my hands on my hips. "I didn't come over here to get in your business. And I'd be more than happy to leave you alone given your deplorable attitude and acrimonious words."
He laughs to himself as he grabs the wrench.
"What's so funny?"
"Why the big words? Trying to show off? Show that you're smarter than me?"
"No! I just—" I take a breath. This guy is making me really angry, and it takes a lot to piss me off.
"Just what?" he asks, cranking on something with the wrench. It makes the muscles in his arms move, which is annoyingly sexy. Is it possible to loathe someone and be turned on by them at the same time?
"It's just that when I get mad I…" I'm too embarrassed to admit this. It's not really embarrassing but I know this guy will make fun of me for it so I'm choosing not to tell him.
"You what?" He cocks his head, looking at me with those gorgeous green eyes, a slight grin on his face. His smile is just as sexy as the rest of him. Just once, I'd like to meet a hot guy who isn't an ass.
"I'm not telling you," I say, folding my arms over my chest.
"Then I guess I'll just go with my original assumption that you use big words to show off how smart you think you are." He turns back to the car and continues whatever it was he was doing.
"I AM smart, but that's not why I use big words."
"Then what's the reason?"
I pause, still not wanting to tell him. Actually, I kind of already did but he didn't pick up on it. My eyes go to his head, which is still bleeding. It's not a lot of blood but it does need to be cleaned.
"If I go get a clean towel, will you at least attempt to clean up your bleeding head?"
"Don't need to. It's fine."
I sigh. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. If you let me clean up your cut, I'll tell you why I use big words."
He looks at me. "Why the hell are you so worried about my head?"
"Just answer me. Do we have a deal or not?"
"Fine," he mutters. "Whatever."
"I'll be right back."
Racing over to the house, I stop myself before going inside, knowing Grams will ask questions if I'm not walking in with a box. I can't tell her I was over at the neighbor's house. She'd scold me and then lecture me on all the reasons why I need to stay away from the evil boy next door with the tattoo.
I never saw a tattoo on him. I wonder where it is and how Grams saw it but I didn't.
Going back to my car, I get the box I left on the trunk. I walk in the house just as Grams is coming out of the kitchen.
"Lunch is ready," she says with a smile.
"I'll be there in a few minutes. I have to get something from the car."
"You can get it later. Come and eat. You don't want the spaghetti to get cold."
"It's just that it's really hot in my car and all my makeup's in there and I don't want it to melt."
She sighs. "Then hurry up and get it so you can eat."
"I will, but first I have to use the bathroom."
She gives me a funny look. I hurry down the hall to the bathroom. I open the cabinet and find the towels. Every single one of them is pink. Who only has pink towels? I grab a hand towel and notice it has flowers embroidered on it. There's no way the neighbor guy's going to let this towel near his head but I have to at least try because it's my only option.
By the time I get back over there, he's sitting at his workbench, doing something with some kind of part he took from under the hood of the car.
He notices me from the side of his eye but doesn't turn his head to look at me. Instead he says, "Reason first."
"What?" I ask, confused.
"Give me the reason before you do whatever you're going to do to my head."
"No way! I don't trust you to keep your end of the bargain."
"And why is that?" He finally looks at me. "You don't think I'm trustworthy?"
"I'm not sure. I just met you."
"What does your gut tell you?"
"I don't know. It's too soon to tell. I haven't been around you long enough." I glance out the garage, fearing Grams is going to show up any minute and scold me for being over here. "Can we just hurry and do this?"
"Go ahead." He pulls out a drawer in his workbench and searches for something.
I reach up to clean his head, then feel his hand grab my wrist. Our eyes meet and my heart races in my chest, either from shock that he grabbed me or from the fact that he's touching me. This guy really messes with me. He's got me annoyed, angered, and turned on all at once.
"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to pull my wrist back.
He keeps hold of it. "Reason first, head second."
"I didn't agree to that."
"Take it or leave it."
"Fine." I yank my wrist out of his hand and quickly say, "When I get angry I use big words."
He struggles to keep a straight face. "You what?"
"You heard me the first time. I'm not saying it twice. Now turn around so I can fix your head."
"Not yet." He folds his arms over his chest and smiles at me. "I'm trying to figure this out."
"What's there to figure out?"
"I've never met anyone who uses large words when they're pissed. Curse words, sure, but dictionary words? Spelling bee words?" He snickers. "Never heard that before."
"Yeah, great, so anyway, can we move this along? I need to get back."
"The old lady got you following a strict schedule?"
"No, but she has lunch ready and it would be rude to make her wait. And for the record, she's my grandma, not the 'old lady'. Or you can call her by her name, which is Cora."