You could call Ezra.
The thought flits through my mind, but I push it away instantly.
My boss is the last person I want to see right now, especially after that stunt he pulled on Sunday with Warner, sending him to clean the bathrooms because he thought we were flirting. It was embarrassing, but more than that, it was infuriating. What right did he have to act jealous? He’s the one who pulled away from our kiss and has been cold toward me since. Hell, he hasn’t even spoken to me since he walked away two nights ago.
I push thoughts of Ezra from my head as I sling open the door and pop the hood of the car.
I’m under the hood when a loud noise rings out through the otherwise quiet night. At first I think it’s one of the animals. There are so many of them hanging around here that it could easily explain it.
But then I see them off in the distance—headlights.
So no animal, then. It’s a car. And it’s goingfast.
The driver whips into the lot of Stick Taps before I know it, and my entire body begins to buzz.
Somehow I know exactly who it is speeding into the parking lot, as if they’re in a car chase or something.
The car skids to a stop when they see me, their headlights shining directly into my eyes. I hold my hand up to block them, even though it barely does anything.
The door opens, and out steps a six-foot-three frame I am all too familiar with.
“What’s wrong?” Ezra’s deep voice floats through the air, and I hate how the little hairs on my arms stick up.
Despite my traitorous body, I don’t have the patience to deal with him tonight, not when the car won’t start and all I want to do is go home, eat something, and crawl into bed. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.
“Hello to you too,” I say as he stomps toward me, his limp a bit more noticeable today.
That’s not the only thing noticeable. His hair is wet, making his already dark locks even darker, and he’s not wearing his typical slacks and button-up shirt. He’s traded them for black joggers and a simple gray T-shirt, and even though I didn’t think it was possible, it’s even hotter than his math teacher wannabe look.
He looks good.Toogood.
I stare anywhere but at him.
“Hi,” he says curtly. “What’s wrong? Car trouble?”
“No, I just thought I’d change my oil before I went home.” I roll my eyes. “Yes, car trouble. It won’t start.”
“Hmm. Have you tried—”
“I swear, if you say jiggling the key, I might scream. I’ve tried everything and nada.”
He nods. “All right. Mind if I look?”
I wave my hand, moving out of the way. “I didn’t realize you were a mechanic, but sure, be my guest.”
“I know enough to get me in trouble.”
Oh, I don’t doubt that at all.
He slips past me, and I’m hit with the scent of his soap again. It’s earthy and clean and smells entirely too damn good, and that’s the problem. No matter how annoyed I am with him, I still find him attractive. Which is why it’s impossible to peel my eyes off him as he leans over the car, and even harder when I notice how his T-shirt stretches over the muscles in his back.
“Well, I’ve got nothing,” Ezra says after a few minutes, and I snap my gaze back to him.
“I figured. It’s fine. I’ll call a tow truck.”
“A tow truck?” He looks offended that I even suggested it. “What for? So they can charge you an arm and a leg to get picked up in the middle of the night? Not a chance. I’ll drive you home. I just have to grab something from inside real quick.”
“What? No.”
