Restored

“Babe, get out of the car.” This time he doesn’t wait and his rough hand grabs me and pulls me out of my seat.

His big hand engulfs mine as he tugs me from the car. He reaches in behind me and grabs my bag from the passenger seat along with my cell phone before he leads me to his truck. I have to nearly run to keep up with him, but he’s walking like a man on a mission and I know there’s no stopping him. I learned last night in the bar, if Bronx wants me somewhere he’s going to put me there. I shouldn’t enjoy it as much as I do, but his manhandling isn’t helping me get over him.

I go to open my mouth when he swings the passenger door open and tosses my stuff into the back seat of his truck. Then I see his face and quickly shut my mouth tight. I’ve never in my life seen him this angry before.

Not the time the new guy hit on me at the shop when I was sixteen, not when he’d get worked up about something someone had royally messed up in the shop, and from what I remember about last night, he played that cool too. This is different and I’m not sure it’s all anger because something else is tangled up in it.

I keep my mouth shut as he easily places me in his truck and shuts the door. He doesn’t slam it and I watch him take out his phone as he walks around the front of the truck. My eyes narrow as I wonder who he’s calling. Suddenly the fire I had inside me comes roaring back to life.

He climbs into the truck while he’s still talking. “Yeah, park it in my garage.”

With that he ends the call and drops his phone down into a cup holder. He looks over at me for only a second before he cranks the truck up and we set off in silence.

“I’m sorry about last night. I should’ve been safer,” I finally say, knowing I still owe him an apology. I might be hurt, but it’s not his fault that I harbor these feelings for him. He’s not supposed to stop living because I have a crush on him. Okay, “crush” is putting it lightly, but still, he has a life of his own.

“I shouldn’t have let it happen.” His voice is thick with regret.

“You’re not my keeper, Bronx. I know you think you owe it to my dad, but I’m a woman now. I should be able to take care of myself.” I should, and last night was a stupid decision. I won’t do it again and I’ve learned my lesson.

“No.” He fires off the one word and it shocks me.

Why wouldn’t he want me to take care of myself? Isn’t that the whole point of growing up? If I’m going to be on my own I have to learn to do it safely.

“I have to be able to take care of myself, Bronx. You can’t look after me forever. We both have to get on with our lives.”

“I’ve been living mine.” His shoulders shrug stiffly as his eyes stay on the road. “So have you,” he reminds me, and in a way he sounds proud.

“Not really,” I say, and even I can hear the disappointment in my voice.

His big hand comes down on my leg and I jerk my head up to look at him. The simple touch does so many things to my body and my mind goes to places it shouldn’t with him.

“You graduated and got your cosmetology degree.” He smiles at that and some of his anger melts away.

We’ve both made something of ourselves. Sure, his was bigger, but it’s what we both wanted in life and Dad was a big part of pushing us to make our dreams come true.

“I did,” I agree. “But I’m stuck.”

He squeezes my thigh slightly and the feeling goes straight to my core. My panties are wet from his firm hold on me and I’m reminded why I have to get away. He’s the only man that’s ever made me feel this way and to my mind and body he’s it for me.

“I’ve been giving you time.” He lets out a long sigh like he’s exhausted. He probably is if he got tossed in jail and then he went to a car show. Follow that up with a wild party and I want to throw up thinking about it. Shouldn’t he be with the woman I heard him with in his office only a few hours ago? It’s not my business, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I have no idea what he means about giving me time. I’m guessing so I could sleep off my hangover and issue my apology.