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Aiden stood from the desk. “You’ve replaced fuses before?”
I slicked my tongue over my teeth. “Not exactly, but I can figure it out.”
“You know how many amps that box is for?”
Glancing down, I caught sight of the edge of the box. “Twenty.”
“And that’s the kind you need? If you replace the bad one with something that’s got too many amps, you’ll do even more damage to the wiring.”
My eyes narrowed slightly, and immediately, Aiden returned the look.
Something dangerous kindled like a lit match under my skin.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“I have a bunch of stuff in my truck, including some fifteen amp fuses,” he said. “I’d be happy to come over and do it. If it’s not the right one, I’ll run to the store.”
“Please say yes,” Emmett whispered. “I don’t want the house to explode. Mom and Dad would be so pissed at you.”
The only reason I had to say no was my pride, not to borrow trouble. Inviting him to our house felt very, very troublesome.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t a reason to say no. Not with this.
“I would appreciate your help,” I told him. “I’ll text you the address.”
He wasn’t smiling anymore, and it had no less of an effect on me when he jerked his chin in assent.
All of my moments alone with Aiden had been accidental. Until now.
Chapter Sixteen
Isabel
Emmett eyed my hands tapping frantically on the steering wheel.
“Not a word, punk.”
He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
I turned the wheel and pulled the car into the driveway of the house. “You mean like you weren’t going to say anything about having a poster of Aiden on my wall? I should take my twenty bucks back.”
Emmett sighed. “I have a poster of Noah on my wall, and you don’t see me going around calling people names if they tell him about it.” Then he shrugged. “I don’t understand why you’d be embarrassed about it. I’ll fight him if he makes fun of you.”
I smiled because as much as he drove me crazy, moments like this reminded me why I’d die for him so fast.
“You’re going to fight Aiden Hennessy?”
“Yeah. It’s not like he actually won the heavyweight title.” He puffed up his skinny chest. “Besides, I hear Mom say all the time that one good fit of righteous rage makes you stronger than someone twice your size.”
“Why is she telling you that?”
He thought about that. “One of my friends was getting bullied at school.”
“And she told you to attack them in a fit of righteous rage?” I asked, smiling widely.
Emmett shook his head. “No. But the house rule is you ask them to stop. If they don’t stop, you tell a teacher. If they still don’t stop, you punch ’em, and even if I get in trouble at school, I’ll never, ever get in trouble at home.” His eyes got wide. “She has a violent streak, though, you know?”
“Yes, she does.” I turned in his direction, carefully smoothing his hair back from his face. “Your hair is getting darker. Who said you’re allowed to start looking like a teenager?”
