Irreparably Broken (Irreparable 1)

“Damn! You look amazing.”

I smile shyly, and shift my weight to my other foot. I made an extra effort to look nice tonight, as I’ve been living in ratty sweats and T-shirts for the last few weeks. I’m wearing a frilly tank with a short skirt and heels.

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” It’s true. Tug looks downright handsome. He’s wearing faded jeans and a plaid button-up shirt. The Hunter brothers are not lacking in the looks department. They are both attractive, just in different ways. Brady always exudes the bad-boy dark and dangerous vibe that I’ve always been a sucker for, whereas Tug is the all-American boy, like those pictured on the Abercrombie posters at the mall.

I reach in my purse, and pull out my keys, dangling them in front of Tug. “You want to drive?”

“Yes’m, Miss Tori.” He grabs the keys from my hand. I chuckle at his reference to Driving Miss Daisy again.

Once we’re outside, Tug opens the passenger door of my Jeep and then excitedly makes his way to the driver’s side. I can’t decide if he’s excited for our date or because I’m letting him drive my Jeep. Maybe a little bit of both.

While we’re driving to the theater, I click on the radio. One of my favorite country songs is on, and I start singing along. Tug snorts when he hears it and tries to change the channel.

I grab onto his arm. “My car, therefore my radio, buddy.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines. “How do you listen to this stuff?”

“I love country music.” I enjoy all music, but having a chance to give a little back to Tug, I don’t mention it.

“What? How can you love it? All the songs are the same.”

“They are not.”

“They are, too, check this out,” He turns up the volume and starts belting out his own lyrics in perfect match to the actual words. “My dog got runned over yesterday. It was so damn sad that I cried to my best friend, Ray.”

I try to purse my lips and hold in the laughter, but I completely lose it and laughter explodes from my mouth with a raspberry.

“My old truck finally broke down. What’s a guy to do but simply frown, because for now I have no way to get around town, ye haw! My mama told me to get a cat. But there’s no way in hell I’m gonna do that.”

Now I’m laughing so hard that I have tears streaming down my cheeks and my stomach is cramping. I smack him several times playfully in the arm, but he just laughs and continues,

“My girl left me without a word, and now I hear she’s moved in with some fuckin’ nerd.” He finishes with the song on the radio.

We stop at a red light, and he turns the volume down. He turns his head toward me and gently brushes his hand along my jaw, wiping away my joyful tears with his thumb. “I sure do like seeing that smile back on your face.” He says sweetly.

It feels good to have this smile back.

The light changes, and I look out the window. Brady is all I can think about, but being out of the house make the need less intense. Or maybe it’s being with Tug.

When we get to the theater, we decide on a new action thriller and head to the snack counter. We order an insanely large bucket of popcorn and both agree you can never add too much butter. Tug gets Milk Duds and makes a squishy face when I ask for Sour Patch Kids. I laugh. It’s the exact face I make when I eat them.

On the ride home from the movies, Tug finally gives up and we listen to country. He smirks and turns the volume down. “Did you enjoy the movie?”

“Yeah. It was good. You?”

“I’m a guy. It had guns, hot chicks, and a killer car chase. So yeah, I liked it.”

I roll my eyes.

“Seriously, I hope spending an evening with me wasn’t too horrible for you.”

I wrinkle my nose. “It wasn’t too too horrible.” I shrug and look away, grinning. Hanging with Tug is surprisingly completely the opposite of horrible. He’s polite, attentive, and positively lovable. My brain stumbles over the word again. It doesn’t mean I love him, like, love him, love him.

When Tug pulls into the driveway, he throws my Jeep into Park and turns his head to look at me. “Well, usually I’d ask if I could walk you up, but since I live here, I kind of have to.”

I chuckle. “You can walk me up, but don’t expect a kiss on the first date. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“So presumptuous, Miss Preston. I’m offended that you think I would try to kiss you.”