A Sticky Situation (Awkward Love 7)

I get so into the music that I must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing I know, Brix is tugging at my arm. I yank the buds out of my ears and glare at him, then I look around. We’re at the service station, the same one where he met his ‘manager’ a few days ago.

“We’re here,” he points out, his mouth twisted up into an amused grin.

“Thanks, Caption Obvious,” I mutter. Brix’s smirk widens and on my other side, Max chortles loudly, not bothering to hide his amusement. I glare at him.

“You think this is funny?”

“Uh, no?” He guesses.

I turn back to Brix and impatiently wait for him to get out, but he shows no signs of being in a hurry. Too bad for me, who really needs to use the bathroom.

“Are you getting out or not?” I finally ask.

“I’m not in any hurry. You're welcome to get out, though.”

He pushes open the door and smiles at me, suggesting I need to climb over him to escape.

Two can play that game.

I reach over Max and open his door, then I climb over him to get out. Once my feet hit the ground, I turn back around and give Brix a smug grin. He glares at me, which is just the reaction I was hoping for.

“Thanks for the tow,” I say to Max, before I walk off.

I find the bathroom, then I wander back out to find my car unloaded and Brix waving Max off. He looks over, smiling when he spots me.

“Have you calmed down?” he asks. When I don’t answer, he tries again. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about?”

“If you need me to spell it out for you then you’re in more trouble than I thought,” I grumble.

“That’s such a weak response,” he chuckles.

“Fine. I’ll tell you.” I know he’s only saying that so I’ll say more, but it’s working. “I saw him ask you if I was “that girl.””

“Ah,” he says. “Now I understand, but you’ve got it so wrong, it’s almost impressive,” he murmurs through intermittent spells of laughter.

“What do you mean?” I frown.

“You put two and two together and came up with whatever the fuck you wanted.”

“Are you saying he didn’t mouth that to you?” I ask. “Because I saw it.”

“I’m not saying that at all,” he assures me. “It’s the circumstances around that comment is what you’ve got mixed up.”

“Will you just tell me what the hell you’re talking about?” I snap, frustrated.

“I mean Max’s wife, Tara is always setting me up. So I've invented a girlfriend.”

“And Max thought I was that girlfriend,” I finish.

I groan when Brix nods, his lips curved into a smirk. I cover my face with my hands, because I’ve done it again. I’ve messed up so often, it’s becoming a full-time job.

“Max must think I'm a lunatic,” I moan.

“He did mention something along those lines,” Brix agrees. “He asked me if I was sure you worked at the clinic and that you weren’t a patient there.”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but I quickly shut it. The way I acted, who can blame him for thinking that?

“Hold on a second. Why would his wife want to set you up?” I ask, confused. “Don’t you have women throwing themselves at you all the time?”

“Sure. But not the ones I wish would throw themselves at me,” he murmurs.

I swallow, my heart pounding as he looks into my eyes. I don’t move, because I don’t want to risk ruining the moment. He lifts his hand, gently trailing his fingers down the curve of my neck. I shiver, goose bumps prickling my skin at the feel of his fingers against my skin.

Closing my eyes, I hold my breath, willing him to move his fingers lower. They linger in the middle of my chest, but then he pulls them away. I open my eyes, he’s still looking at me, but there’s restrain in them that wasn’t there moments ago.

“I better get to fixing this, huh?” he murmurs.

I nod. “I guess so.”Chapter 14HannahI walk around the garage, doing my best not to stare at Brix as he works on my car. It’s a battle I’m losing, though, because the way that shirt clings to his muscular body … it’s impossible to look anywhere else. He commands attention, just like he did when we broke down and he was checking the oil. He looks over at me and then chuckles to himself, which kicks my paranoia into gear. I discreetly touch my chin, just to make sure I’m not doing something embarrassing, like drooling everywhere.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says. “Every time I look your way, you’re staring at me. You’re starting to make me really fucking nervous. I feel like I’m being assessed on how well I perform without any preparation time.”