“He’s here but can’t take a call right now.”
“Oh.” I peer through the curtains to see if Dylan’s still in the parking lot. “He was going to fix a tire for me and I needed to check on it.”
“Your name Emerson?” The man coughs and sputters into the phone loudly. I hold it away from my ear.
“Yes.” I grab my purse, walk outside, and lock the door behind me.
“Toby said you would call. He brought your tire to the shop and he’s already taken it back to the car. He wants to talk with you about your repair when you get here.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I end the call and make my way to Dylan’s showpiece of a car. Jeez. Every neighbor I have must be gawking at it by now. Mrs. Chainsmoker across the way is still on her front landing.
The clicking sound of his door locks makes me smile. My apartment location obviously has him freaked out. Of course, I do carry Mace with me, but that’s mostly for when I come in at night.
He leans over and pushes the passenger door open. “Hey, gorgeous.”
His warm words send an unwanted thrill straight to my belly. I narrow my eyes at my body’s reaction and get into the car. “I said I forgave you. No need to suck up. You can’t help it that you’re thoughtless and shallow.”
His grin disappears. “You think I’m shallow?”
“If the insult fits...” I say and press my lips together. “I just need a ride to Folks’ Auto off Cavanaugh and then maybe you could take me to campus. That’s where I left my car.”
“And thoughtless,” he adds in a grumble and reverses out of the parking spot.
“You pretty boys can’t all be perfect,” I say. I hold back the smirk because I know the nickname ‘pretty boy’ is one I’ve heard from Collin and Jordy at their house. Dylan has a look that turns girls’ heads and makes guys underestimate him. And it’s more than his All-American good looks and lean, muscled build. It’s the way he carries himself with confidence. He acts like he owns the world.
Must be nice to have everything come so easy.
Dylan asks for directions from me and I look them up on my phone. Other than that, he stays quiet the rest of the drive. He’s not a pouter. But maybe my jabs hurt a little. I derive an ugly sense of satisfaction. His stripper comments from yesterday will echo in my head for a while, and I’m still angry.
We pull into Folks’ Auto, a fairly large business with a line of bays for cars. I get out and Dylan follows me to the front office door. I ignore him.
I inhale the smells of grease and oil. The counter is unmanned but there’s a little bell to ring for service. My hand is inches from it when Toby walks in from the garage area.
“Hey,” he says with an easy smile. “Your tire is fixed and back on your car. I think you need a spare though. Interested in buying one today?”
“She doesn’t have a spare?” Dylan edges in close beside me at the counter and I move over.
“No, and she needs one. I don’t feel good knowing she’s driving without it.” Toby’s gaze swings from Dylan back to me.
I pull out my wallet and credit card. “I’ll buy a tire for a spare. Thanks so much for taking care of everything. I appreciate it. How much do I owe you?”
Toby points to a poster on the wall which displays tire brands. “You can get one like yours in the mid-price range.”
“That’s great.” I cringe at the cost. There goes my plan for buying a microwave. Oh well. Gabby and I need to eat healthier.
Dylan pushes his credit card forward. “I’ll get it.”
“Oh no you won’t.” I push my card closer to Toby and try to calm my temper. I glare at Dylan and then return my attention to Toby. “Don’t even think about taking his card.”
Toby looks once from Dylan to me and takes my card. “You’re the boss.” He rings up the sale and hands me the credit card slip with a pen. “Don’t be mad at a man for trying to pay for his girlfriend’s repairs.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say through gritted teeth.
At the same time, Dylan answers, “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Oh.” Toby’s grin widens. “In that case, can I get your number?” He grabs a blank slip of paper.
“Yeah. You can.” The words pop out of my mouth. I immediately want to take it back because normally I don’t hand out my number to anyone.
I give Toby my number and he jots it down. “Great. I’ll call you. One more thing.”
“What?” I place my wallet in my bag. Dylan turns away from the counter as if he’s bored.
“Your tire. Do you remember running over anything?” He pockets the paper with my number and sits on the stool behind the counter.
“No. Why?”
“I fix lots of flats. People run over screws and all kinds of things. But yours looks like something sharp sliced straight through it. Like a blade of some kind.”
A flashback to the note on my windshield comes to me in that moment. My belly clenches hard. “Thanks for letting me know,” I say. Dylan turns to listen again.
Toby rubs his hand over his mouth for a second as if hesitating about what to say next. “I’m not trying to scare you. It’s possible that you ran over something. But really...it looks like someone cut your tire.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I shake my head at his concern. “There’re a lot of crazies in the world.”
I school my expression to look unconcerned, so Dylan will quit staring at me, tension tightening the skin around his eyes.
Toby nods and walks toward the garage entrance. “I’ll grab that new tire. If you’ll pop your trunk, I’ll be out in a second.”
Dylan is already heading to the shop’s front door and holds it open. “You have enemies?”
“What?” I bristle at the implication. It’s back to the lifestyle he thinks I have—one that invites Jerry Springer type controversy. “No. I’m sure he’s wrong.”
“You should be careful.”
I roll my eyes at him and walk through the door he’s holding. “I always am.”
Dylan puts his hand on the small of my back as we walk to the car and I stiffen. Toby is already there with the tire at the back of the car. Dylan is giving him a bland stare and Toby stares right back. And although I’m not tied to either one of them in a romantic way, I can’t help thinking they both look like they’re going to throw down in the parking lot and stake a claim.
“Thanks, Toby.” I give him an overly warm smile.
“Anytime,” he says. Dylan hits a button on his key fob and the trunk door lifts. Once the tire is stored, Toby gives me a nod and heads back into the garage.
“I hope you aren’t thinking of going out with that guy.” Dylan opens my door for me.
“That’s none of your business.” I settle in as he walks around to the driver’s side.
He sits behind the wheel, not starting the car, and grunts. “Maybe so. What about the possibility that Toby slashed your tire?”
I scrunch my eyebrows together. “What? You’re crazy. Oh, come on. That’s ridiculous.”