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In the morning he’d been so happy and tired that maybe he’d missed something important.
Or maybe she realized she didn’t want to be owned by a blue collar dominant.
Nate let Atlas and Jimmy sort out the rest of the SUV details and got back to work on the bike he was redesigning. He wished he could do badass, Mad Max-ish motorcycles like the one Loke had commissioned by that crazy French blacksmith, Severin Leduc, but he’d settle for catering to customers with slicker tastes. Hell, he could use some of Leduc’s money or fame right about now, but Nate’s work either wasn’t as good, or he just hadn’t had the same luck.
“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Atlas said, strolling into the actual garage a few minutes later. “You didn’t get answers last time. You deserve them this time.”
Nate picked up a wrench, wishing he could beat the piss out of the bike instead of making it long and sleek.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the money. I’m not exactly a catch.”
“You’re a talented artist, Nate, and you make a decent living at it. Maybe you don’t have a mansion yet, but no one actually needs one. And to be honest, if she’s that shallow, she doesn’t deserve you.”
It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him. He didn’t think of what he did as art, but he supposed it was to some people.
“Thanks, man,” he finally acknowledged, feeling awkward.
“Awww… Like a fucking Hallmark card,” Jimmy said, feigning a sniffle.
Atlas snorted. “Toxic masculinity is destroying men’s relationships, Jimbo. Read some Buzzfeed.”
Nate flipped Jimmy off and got back to work.
Was Riley shallow? Hell no. She’d been, and still was, one of the best people he knew. She wasn’t petty. But if the problem wasn’t the kink this time, and it wasn’t the money, what was it?
Chapter 5
“Now that’s a sexy car,” Riley’s mom said, peeking out the curtain to the street in front of the house. “I always liked a souped up Mustang.”
Riley heard the purr of the engine and joined her mother at the window, taking the edge of the curtain from her to stop the fabric from fluttering so wildly. She didn’t want the neighbors to know they were spying.
“Thanks. I was afraid I might accidentally summon a bull with all the flapping. Good thing the curtains aren’t red.” She elbowed Riley. “Besides, it would be terrible if the rug didn’t match the drapes.”
Her mother laughed at her own joke, and her horsey laugh made Riley laugh too – until the Mustang pulled into the driveway and parked.
“Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit!” Riley jerked the curtain closed and steered her mother and her walker away from the window. Mouthwatering Nate fucking Sexton was strolling up their walkway. The man had no business looking that good in a black T-shirt and low slung jeans. And the boots. She could lick those boots. She’d love for him to make her do it.
Fuck. She had to stop him at the door and tell him to get the fuck out of her life.
“What’s going on?” he mother dug her heels into the living room’s taupe area rug.
“The guy, Mom.”
“Is he bad news?”
“Only the baddest! It’s Nathanial Sexton.”
“Whaaat?” Her mother used the handbrake on her walker to foil Riley’s attempt to chivvy her out of the front room. “Why would Nate come over?”
“I might have…had sex with him a few days ago.” She cleared her throat. “Accidentally.”
“Aw…Nate. Sweet boy. He has a car now?”
“Mom, he’s twenty-five.”
“Does he work?”
“He’s a mechanic.”
