?
Tara nodded, fitting the part where it belonged. She desperately tried to come up with something else to say as the silence stretched. She took a breath to ask what he planned for the rest of the day when he said, “Well, I guess I should be going.”
He sounded…reluctant. She turned around, wondering if his eyes would be that amazing, intense color like before, but his attention focused on something outside, not her. The sudden realization that he looked bored, not reluctant, sent disappointment spiraling through her.
She forced a smile into her voice. “Have a nice day.” Geez, now she not only felt like an idiot, but she sounded like one, too.
“You, too.” He walked toward the door with his suit slung over his shoulder. “Your brother’s things are over here.”
“I saw them, thanks.”
She concentrated on the bike and securing the wrench around the bolt, unable to watch him leave because she felt a ridiculous prick of tears. So he wasn’t interested in today’s version of her any more than yesterday’s. Big deal. She’d only just met the man, it wasn’t like they’d had a relationship for her to cry over.
But it felt like he was walking out of her life for good, and even more outrageous than the tears, Tara couldn’t shake the feeling that she would lose the best thing that’d ever happened to her.
Why couldn’t she ask him to stay? The worst he’d say is no, and leave anyway. She blinked a few times to bring the wrench in her hand back into focus and took a deep breath to shore up her courage.
Wes spoke before she could. “Maybe I’ll see you around town sometime.”
That hit home for Tara. Vague, casual, and so similar to what other guys had said to her over the years after a few dates. It was nice meeting you…I had fun, but…Take care, have a nice life. The rejection stung worse than ever, and she wondered why he didn’t just leave.
“Sure,” she responded with a hint of sarcasm. “We can reminisce about Sugar puking on you.”
The dog trotted over and nosed her elbow. Don’t look. Just let him leave. Tara gripped the wrench handle tighter. Despite all her efforts, she still snuck a look, only to discover him gone. Story of her life—guys not hanging around for long. The wrench slipped on the bolt head, and she smacked her knuckles against the fender strut as the tool clanged to the floor.
“Ow,” she exclaimed with more force than warranted. Frustration got the better of her, and she shoved away from the bike with a few choice curse words while trying to shake the pain away. “Gol-dammit, son-of-a-bitch.”
“Are you okay?”
Tara jerked around to see Wes striding toward her. “I’m fine.” She was annoyed with herself for losing her temper and really hated that he’d just witnessed the tantrum.
He tossed the garment bag over the seat of her bike and reached for her hand. As he surveyed her scraped knuckles, the warmth of his touch radiated up her arm and started to spread.
“Really, it’s nothing.” She pulled free, stepped back, and reached to rub a sudden itch on her nose. After picking up the wrench she’d dropped, she removed his suit from the bike and handed it back to him. “I thought you left.”
“I was—I did.”
A sideways glance caught him watching her with heat in his eyes again, and she turned back to the bike in confusion. His signals were all over the darn place, and she had no clue how to proceed. He talked like he wasn’t interested, but looked like he’d kiss her if she offered again. Tempting as his mouth was, no way was she going there again without him initiating contact.
He hung his suit on the shelf bracket next to the garage door before returning to stand on the opposite side of the Harley from her. He hunched down for a closer look. “Did you change this side already?”
She glanced at his arm where his shirtsleeve concealed the dragon tattoo, then down the street toward her parents’ house, and finally back to his face. “You know your way around a bike?”
“I learn fast.”
She tempered the flare of delight that he’d come back to stay and held his gaze. Now that he’d made his decision without any direct help from her, she had other questions.
“Charlie says you’re in a gang.”
Wes’s entire body went rigid but he didn’t move from his position. “Wrong tense,” he clipped out. “I left eight years ago.”
“He doesn’t believe you.”
His gaze dropped, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob. “Do you?”
She believed him so completely that it scared her, because she should be more careful. She couldn’t totally rely on this feeling in her heart that he was one of the good guys. That he was the guy. She took a deep breath. “The scar on your back looked pretty new.”
His head jerked up, and she saw surprise in his eyes.