Why did she suddenly feel so nervous beneath his gaze? She swiped a curl away and tucked it behind her ear. He tracked her movement but said nothing.
This was getting really concerning, unnerving and downright scary.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly.
He gave a nod. “You’re the third person to ask me that today.”
“Well, we’re all concerned about you.”
“Don’t be.” He pivoted to the workbench and unscrewed the vise to release the part he’d been working on. He set it aside and then glanced at her again.
“I hope you’re hungry. I brought your favorite.”
Was that a small glimmer she saw in the depths of his chocolate brown eyes? “Oh yeah? What’s my favorite?”
She set the bag on the workbench. “Look inside.”
Using one grubby grease-stained finger, he pulled the bag open to reveal a deli package of fried chicken.
“Looks good.”
“There’s something else.”
He reached into the bag and withdrew a bottle of his favorite Crown Royal whiskey. He expelled a grunt of appreciation, and her stomach gave a tiny flip-flop at hearing it.
“Thanks, Catarina.”
“I thought we could share it for dinner.”
His gaze landed on hers. Something about the solemnness of his stare and the tightening of his jaw that emphasized the tendon in the crease had her stomach clenching for other reasons.
She stepped closer and put her arms around his neck, going on tiptoe to reach him. How long had it been since she hugged her friend, showed him how much he meant to her? She locked her arms and squeezed.
For a moment, he stood motionless, a solid wall of steel against her.
When she started to pull away, he settled a hand low on her spine. The brush of his fingers was fleeting, because he dropped his hand almost immediately.
He moved back a step and reached for the Crown. The gold bottle gleamed in the overhead fluorescent lights. “I’ll save this for later.”
She nodded.
“Why don’t you grab the chicken and I’ll wash my hands and grab us some beers?”
She felt boosted by his almost normal voice. After grabbing the chicken box, she walked to the wall where a few old chairs sat. Often the Dark Falcons congregated here to work on bikes and shoot the breeze. She didn’t hang around them often, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable in the least doing so. And she considered Fiona a friend.
When Tank returned a minute later, he had two beers locked in the fingers of one hand. The masculine stance and his size would make any woman whip her head around to see more.
Catarina twisted her mind from those thoughts and opened the chicken. She pulled out a greasy batter-fried drumstick and offered it to Tank. He dropped into a seat and passed her a beer in trade for the drumstick.
“Smells good.” With his stare fixed on her, he brought the food to his lips.
She smiled. “I’m glad you’re hungry. Looking at you, I wondered if you’ve been eating.”
He lowered the chicken. “Meaning?”
“You’ve lost some weight.”
“Haven’t noticed.” He bit into the drumstick.
She reached for her own piece, a thigh, and broke a bit off with her fingers to eat. Chewing, she wondered at the slight tension running between her and Tank. It hadn’t been there before, so what had changed?
It must be her lack of communication.
“Tank, I need to apologize to you.”
His gaze settled on hers. “For what?”
“I haven’t been the best of friends to you lately.”
He winced.
What was that almost pained crumple of his expression about? She’d noticed it a few times when they were together.
“Have you been working a lot?” he asked her in a complete change of subject.
She rolled with it—for now. But soon she’d get Tank to open up to her.
Bobbing her head, she swallowed her bite. “Extra shifts, because Maryann has been out for a broken hand.”
“Didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, she got it caught between the gurney and the door of the rescue unit.”
“Damn.”
“Uh-huh.”
They fell silent for a bit, eating chicken and sipping on beers. While it wasn’t awkward or unpleasant in any way, it sure didn’t feel the same as it once had.
She nodded toward the bike parts. “You’re rebuilding.”
“Yup.” He licked off his greasy finger, and damn if her stomach didn’t flip again, this time a bit lower. What was that about? She hadn’t felt that hint of excitement in a long time.
“I’m glad you’ll be on two wheels again soon. I know how much you must miss it.”
“I do.” For the first time, she heard a bit of the old Tank in his tone. “First thing I’m doing is taking a ride into the mountains. Was thinking about camping.”
She smiled. “That sounds really fun.”
He eyed her for a long heartbeat as if he wanted to speak, but he remained silent.
“I worry about you riding, you know,” she said.
“The accident was a stupid error on my part. It won’t happen again.”
“No, but other accidents happen. I’ve seen it firsthand.”
“I know you have.”
She found herself watching his lips when he spoke for some odd reason. Tank was a handsome man, rugged in all the right ways, and he deserved a good woman to make him happy.
Something hot and tight inside her rose up, like a small knot of interlaced flames, leaving her uncomfortable and restless.
She pushed to her feet and walked over to the parts laid out on the floor. Tank joined her, his big body leaving her feeling so small in comparison.
“How do you know what piece goes where?”
He shrugged. “Practice, I guess. Been building engines since I was a kid with my dad. I’d best get back to it or I’ll never be finished.”
“Mind if I watch you work for a while?”
His eyes washed over her, leaving her feeling as if he’d trailed his fingers across her skin. “Suit yourself.”
She pulled up an overturned trash can and sank to it while he worked. They talked as he did, but the topics of conversation didn’t skim the surface of the deeper talks they used to have. What had changed?
He usually asked about Chad, but this time he didn’t mention him, and Catarina didn’t bring him up. Chad had texted her a few more times this week, but she hadn’t spoken to him. Lately, she really had started to realize things would never change between them. Even if they had things in common, they couldn’t make it work. And she hated how jealous and sometimes controlling he tried to be.
“Why don’t you date, Tank?”
He jerked his head up, gaze burning. “How do you know I don’t?”
That left her feeling twitchy. She shifted on the can and directed her curls behind her ears again. His eyes narrowed on her.
“I guess I don’t know what you do with your personal time. But I don’t see you around town with women.”
“Did the guys put you up to asking me?”
Surprise flitted through her. “What? No.”
“Because they’ve been asking me shit too, pushing me to ask this girl out at the Painted Pig.”