Renegade Hearts (Rebels of Sandland 1)

“You know what I mean. You’re a jerk, most of the time. Sorry, but it’s true. I’m not saying I think you’re a jerk, I just-”

“Get to the point, babe.” I stopped talking and took a few seconds to gather my thoughts.

“I want to know if you’ve been like this with other girls. The way you are with me, I mean.”

“Em. If you’re asking me if I’m a virgin, it’s a no.” He stared at his lap like he’d just heard it was the end of the world. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you otherwise.”

“I know that. I’d kind of guessed that already.”

He looked across at me and after a few breaths he spoke. “But if you’re asking me if I’ve ever been in love with anyone else, then the answer is no. And no, I’ve never felt like this before.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, I could see honesty and truth there.

“I like being with you, Em. I like what we’re building here. I do feel different when I’m with you. I feel like I can be myself. I might still act like a prick when we’re in public. I’ll definitely act like one around the lads, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not aching inside, desperate to get you alone again. There are no girls you have to worry about. Trust me.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Yes, you should’ve. I don’t want to put you on the spot about this stuff. But trust me. I’ll take all of this at your pace. You control everything.”

We pulled onto the forecourt of Ryan’s family garage, but he drove the van down the side and then stopped when he was adjacent to the workshop. His workshop. I hadn’t told a soul about Sean, his dad, showing me around here. It wasn’t my story to tell and I kind of liked having a little secret glimpse into Ryan’s world. We both got out of the van at the same time and Ryan took my hand.

“I wanted to show you something else. I don’t let a lot of people see this,” he said as he opened up and stepped back to let me through first, into his space. “This is my workshop. I make cars here.” He spoke quietly behind me.

“Wow. It’s amazing,” I said, thinking I was doing a really good job of appearing startled and in awe. Turns out, I was a crap actress.

“You’ve seen it already?” He smirked and shook his head.

“What? No! This is all new to me. This is-”

“My dad showed you, didn’t he?”

I couldn’t hide my smile. “Yes. But before you go off on him, he just wanted to share with me how proud he was of you. Don’t get mad.”

“Unbelievable.” He chuckled. He wasn’t mad. I wasn’t quite sure what he was, but mad wasn’t it. “I told him this part of the lot wasn’t open to anyone.”

“Well, your dad didn’t think I was just anyone.”

He must’ve thought I was hurt because he came over and put his arms around me to hug me.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant he needed to go through me first. I don’t mind you seeing it. You could never be described as just anyone.”

I hugged him back and then the corkboard on the wall caught my eye.

“What is this?”

It was the polaroid picture of me at the warehouse in my white dress, the one I’d seen hiding under the paperwork, back when Sean had given me the grand tour. Only this time it was pinned up on display.

I walked over to it and flicked my finger underneath the picture. I’d hated that night, but then again, if I hadn’t gone, would I be standing here right now? On second thoughts, maybe I hadn’t hated that night as much as I said I did.

“You think I’m a creeper, don’t you?” He tried to look guilty. It just made him look cuter.

“What?” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “You’ve chased me, freaked me out, scared every guy I’ve ever met away and now you have polaroids of me pinned to the wall. Why would I think you’re a creeper?”

He laughed and picked up the camera that sat on his workbench. “When you put it like that, I sound like more than a creeper.” He lifted the polaroid camera and took another photograph of me smirking at him. When the photo shot out, he pulled it free and fanned it, then stuck it next to the white dress one. “I’ll own it. When it comes to you, I am a creeper. Maybe stalker sounds better? Or hunter?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Or guy who takes pictures and isn’t freaky or weird at all. I think I’d go with that. You have enough douchebag labels, Mr Renaissance.”

He threw his head back and laughed, and I swear my whole body went into meltdown. I’d always loved it when he laughed like that, but here in this confined space, standing right in front of me, I couldn’t contain myself. I wanted to jump up and climb him, like a monkey climbing up a tree.