“Hey,” Peck says, breaking me from my spell. His head is stuck around the door, having just arrived. “Donaldson is in. Where’s his invoice?”
“Fuck if I know,” I grumble. “Sienna filed all that shit.”
“Where?”
“All I know is the folders were all sparkly. There’s still glitter on the floor back there. I’d just follow the glitter trail, Peck.”
“I’d like to follow that glitter trail,” he smirks.
Flashing him a look, my lips pressing together so hard they hurt, I watch as he laughs.
“I heard the guys at Crave talking about her last night. You have three calls on the answering machine right now with men wanting to bring their trucks in for basic shit they usually do themselves. You get what I’m saying?” he asks.
“Charge Donaldson fifty bucks. Get what I’m saying?” I ask, lifting a brow.
Peck laughs again, the sound cut off by the door closing. I go back to the truck and try to ignore the pain across the back of my shoulders. The lug nut is almost tightened when my hand falls from the tool. It dings off the concrete, making a racket, but I stay squatted down and wait. Within a few seconds, her laugh spills from the lobby and floods my ears.
The grin that settles over my lips every morning when I feel her presence does its thing, but because no one is here to see it, I let it go. I let my stupid body react while my brain screams at it to stop. It’s like I’m trapped in a madman’s world where the two parts of me are in a constant battle. My brain is right. My body is wrong. We all know it. It’s common with men. But the override button I can usually press on my physical reactions is broken and that’s why I’m fucked.
Angling my ear so I can hear her better, the faint pitches and dips of her voice as she teases Peck melt away a bit of my stress.
She showed up. Again.
Rocking back on my heels, I let out a breath before standing. As I turn around, the door is opening behind me and Peck’s dumb ass is whistling as he comes in.
“Good Lord almighty,” he cackles. “You need to go see that.”
“See what?”
“See what,” he scoffs. “I don’t know. That ass. Those fucking legs. Hell, even her purple hair is hot. But the best part is, she brought in blueberry muffins.” A hand clamps on my shoulder. “She cooks, Walk. She fucking cooks.”
“So what?” I say, rolling my eyes for his benefit. “I cook. Nana cooks. Veronica at Carlson’s cooks. It’s not a thing.”
“And as much as I love Nana, she doesn’t look like that.”
Heading towards the sink in the back, I use every bit of self-control I have not to look at the lobby window. “Don’t you feel guilty for mentally cheating on Molly McCarter?”
“Ah, don’t bring her up,” he sighs. “I saw her this morning at Goodman’s gas station. She waved at me.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little pathetic you have that look on your face because she waved at you?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little pathetic you have that look on your face because Sienna is standing out there and you’re too chicken shit to go out there and talk to her?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Flipping on the tap with more force than necessary, I rub my hands together beneath the freezing cold water with gusto.
Peck follows me and leans against the wall. “No one is going to think badly of you if you—”
“Is that what you think this is?” The faucet squeals as the water shuts off. “You think I’m worried what any of you will think?”
“Yeah. I do. I think you think we’re gonna judge you.”
A low rumble escapes my throat, the mountain of morning irritability now focused solely on him. “When have I ever given a fuck what anyone thinks of me, Peck? When I walked away from the football scholarship at EIU so I could help Dad out around here? Did I care then? Or when I beat the shit out of Tommy Jones for laying a hand on Blaire? Did I care that some people around here thought I was some kind of barbarian fucking up the golden boy of Linton? Because I don’t remember that.”
“I think this is a little different.”
“You would.”
Stomping across the garage, I glance quickly at the window but don’t see Sienna. A bit of relief runs through me that she can’t see my face. I have no idea how pissed off I look, but it can’t be any match for how pissed off I feel.
Fuck Peck for pushing in places he shouldn’t. To hell with him for insinuating this is anything but me trying not to twist up a girl who clearly doesn’t need wrapped up in my bullshit. As irritating as she is, Sienna doesn’t deserve this. And even if my life wasn’t such a fuck-up, there’s no way that girl, one I can’t figure out for the life of me, would be able to handle all the baggage I come with.