A Little Bit Dirty
I nod and keep my thoughts to myself. I poured every penny I had into the garage. I made a backwoods mechanic shop into a thriving business that meets the town’s needs for a jack-of-all-trades handyman. The debt I understand, though.
“That’s right. Save up and then spend it all. If I remember right, that’s how you do it.”
“It’s true,” she says with a little laugh, catching herself getting all passionate about the subject. Her voice is a soothing balm. Especially her laugh. It’s better than anything I can imagine. I still feel the same way when I hear it.
“It’s good to have you home,” I tell Bri.
“It’s good to be home,” she admits and there’s a shift between us. It’s gentler, like her guard has dropped more than a little.
She relaxes more on the stool and I take a side step, getting a touch closer. I could rest my arm behind her, leaning against the low back of her seat, but I decide not to.
“What about you?” she questions. “Is the shop everything you dreamed it would be?”
There’s a pang of nostalgia that hits me when I nod. “It is.”
“You’re good at fixing things,” she comments and there’s a softness to her tone that’s hard to place. Then she goes back to sucking down the last of her drink.
“Yeah, I like it. It’s nice when something’s fixed in the world.”
Bri makes a little sound like I hurt her as she sets her now empty glass down. “Is that what you’re doing tonight? Fixing something?”
Us, I want to say. She already knows it. She served that question up fast and easy. I broke what Bri and I had between us, and it’s the one thing I can’t fix with all my tools. It’s the one thing I don’t know how to fix. All I can think to do is get her close to me. That’s how I start, anyway. I put my hand around her waist like I wanted to and pull her in.
* * *
Half of me’s scared out of my mind that she’s going to resist me. She could shove my hand away and pretend we never met. But Bri doesn’t. Her body molds to mine without an ounce of resistance. She studies my gaze. My whole body’s hot.
“Feels less broken now,” I murmur.
“Does it? I don’t know.” Brianna swallows hard. “You know, it is a little loud in here.” Her voice is barely a whisper. Tension crackles between us and this I recognize. The heat we share, and the way her fingers lay on my thigh.
Bri baby. I remember those little touches and exactly what she wants me to do when she gives them to me.
“If you want, I’ll take you somewhere quiet.” Somehow I keep my voice even, although adrenaline and desire mix together like a drug in my veins.
Every nerve ending is lit and I’m all too aware of every small move she makes.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “Could you take me somewhere so we can talk?”
Bri lets me help her off the stool, to the back of the bar, and down a narrow hall. For months I helped get this place in order, so I know every inch of this building. Griffin might have something to say if he saw me back here, but he owes me one. More than one, actually. So I keep us going, determined to leave the bar closer to Bri than I was when I got here.
I steer us into a storage closet filled with cases of beer, barrels, cups—all sorts of shit stacked up against the walls. Shoving the door shut and locking it, I turn to face her.
“I locked it,” I tell her and she takes a step forward, then a hesitant step back. Like she’s unsure. “No one’s going to interrupt.”
The only thing I’m sure about is us.
You want to hit me, yell at me? Go for it, Bri. You want something else, go for that too. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue, but they go unspoken. I’m too damn scared to say the wrong thing.
“What were you doing out there?” she says in a breathy voice, eyes flashing. Like maybe she wants to fuck me, or maybe she wants to hit me. Hell, maybe she wants to do both at the same time and I wouldn’t blame her. “What the hell are you doing, Asher?”
“What are you doing?” I fire back, but my voice is low and tempts her.
A flush hits her cheeks as she inhales. “I was just out with my friends. I’m having a good time. And you’re kind of ruining it,” she says. Her tone is anything but confrontational, yet her statement throws me off.
“I’m ruining it? How? By talking to you?”
“No. You’re ruining it because you’re sitting at the end of the bar looking all hot.” Her emerald eyes pin me in place when she adds, “And I want to kiss you. All I want to do is kiss you.”