“Let me guess—Rick didn’t ask you much,” Deb said. The phone rang, but she ignored it.
“He didn’t tell me much either.”
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I knew it.” Then she told me my hourly rate, which Rick had told me at least. “That works for you?” she asked, grinning.
“Oh God, yes!”
She laughed, and we said goodbye. I left the office, feeling better than I had in days—no, weeks. When I received my first paycheck, I should celebrate with a milkshake. I should buy pizza for the guys at the garage and takeout for Dad and Dylan. I should phone Tala and take her out for a movie. Damn, when was the last time I went to the theater? I couldn’t even remember.
With this money, I could save up faster to buy off Andrew’s share. Get rid of the parasite for good. I couldn’t wait!
When I saw Cameron outside talking with another man with a hard hat, I lost my smile. Muttering under my breath about dark, evil spirits, I rushed to my car.
“Kara,” Cameron called out. “Wait up.”
I turned and looked at him impatiently.
How can you stand there as if nothing happened?
“What?” I snarled.
How can your damn smile still affect me? I hate you.
“I need a ride home,” he said. “You still owe me.”
My jaw dropped.
“I just need to clock out. Be right back.”
I watc
hed him jog to the second building.
I must’ve damaged my eardrums last time I cleaned them. The internet had warned me not to use cotton swabs, because it would only push the earwax deeper, but of course I never listened. That must be it.
I didn’t really hear him say I still owed him a ride home, did I?
I rushed to my car and started it.
Nothing wrong with those ears. You heard him right the first time, girl!
The balls! I could choke him with my bare hands.
I grabbed my phone and checked the time. It was 1:15 p.m. Time to leave. Just as I was going to speed my ass out of the parking lot, an eighteen-wheeler decided to block my way.
I closed my eyes in defeat, hitting my forehead repeatedly on the steering wheel. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
And then I heard a knock on the passenger side door. It was him, of course.
He looked like he’d washed up a little bit. His face looked cleaner, the grease stain missing. He’d lost the man bun, his dark curls in an adorable disarray on his head. He had changed into a gray shirt and dark jeans.
“I’ll ask him to move his truck if you let me in,” he offered.
His voice was muffled by the closed window, but I heard what he said. And the laughter in it.
“He’ll be here for another half hour,” he added.
I scowled at him. He grinned.