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“Would you mind wiping down the liquor bottles while I finish up in the office? I have just a couple more things to do,” I say.
Diesel nods with a grin. “Can do.”
“Thanks.”
We’ve been working in silence, the tension between us thick and electric. I input some information into the computer, then sign off. I tidy up the desk and double-check the safe is locked. I’m stalling, too nervous to face Diesel, and I hope he doesn’t call me out for my weird behavior.
The sound of glass breaking draws my attention, and I shoot out of the chair, then rush to the bar. “Are you okay?” I ask when I see a shattered beer mug on the floor.
“Don’t come over. I’ll sweep it up.” He walks around the mess. “Where’s the broom?”
“It’s in the storage room. I’ll grab it.”
“No, let me. You finish what you’re doing.” He walks toward me, closing the gap between us. I swallow hard as my gaze lowers down his body, taking in how good he looks in his tight jeans and boots.
“If John asks, tell him Kenzie did it,” he teases, and we both laugh, which eases the tension some.
“She dropped an entire bottle of tequila once, so trust me, one mug doesn’t even put a dent in the amount of shit workers have broken around here,” I reassure him.
Diesel walks around me to get to the cleaning supplies, and I head back into the office, needing the space to clear my head for a moment. I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’ve never felt this nervous around him, and now suddenly, I’m worrying if I have food in my teeth and if I remembered to pluck my eyebrows this morning.
I leave myself a few Post-it reminders, then do one final glance around the bar. Closing never takes me this long, but Diesel has me completely distracted and on edge. But I need to face him, lock up, and get out of here. I square my shoulders and walk out to where he’s waiting.
“All good?” I ask casually.
“Yep, everything on my end anyway.”
I snort. “Thanks for your help,” I tell him, swallowing down the large knot in my throat. “Although you did volunteer so…”
He chuckles, nodding. “That I did.” Then he walks toward me with a shrug. “Hope you didn’t mind the company?”
Diesel searches my face as the space between us gets smaller and smaller. “Uh, no. Not at all. You’re a lot easier to boss around than Kenzie,” I tease, taking a small step back.
“I don’t know about that…” He lifts his baseball cap, an old one he’s worn for years, and brushes a hand through his messy hair.
“I think that hat is on its last leg,” I say, dragging out the conversation for whatever reason I can’t figure out yet.
“You think so?” The corner of his lips tilts into an amused smirk. “I’ve had this since I was—”
“Fifteen,” I answer without thinking. I’m not sure why I just blurted that out or how I even remember, but the memory resurfaces of the first time he wore it. He’d been working on the ranch all summer, which meant I saw him almost every day. I was horseback riding when he and Riley drove up on a four-wheeler, and I couldn’t stop staring at him. The boys typically wore things to keep the sun out of their eyes while working—either their Stetsons or baseball caps—but this one fit him like a glove, and it stood out to me for some reason.
He puts it back on his head and nods. “Yeah, a gift from my grandfather.”
It’s a beaten-up bluish gray color with a silver embroidered Texas state on the front. Nothing fancy, but I always liked the way it looked on him.
“I can’t believe it hasn’t unraveled yet, honestly.” I lick my lips, willing myself to stop talking. This is the most normal conversation Diesel and I have had in ages, maybe ever. He’s usually poking fun at me, and I’m typically telling him to fuck off.
Get out! Time to leave! Walk away and drive home!
Diesel chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Same. It’s my favorite one, though, so hopefully it’ll last forever.” He takes a step toward me, nearly caging me in against the bar top. “So, I have another question for you.”
“Okay.” I swallow hard.
“About that night…” he reiterates.
“What about it?”
Diesel’s in front of me, our bodies so close our feet touch. “Was it your first kiss?”
Inhaling a sharp breath, I can’t seem to get enough oxygen. Why is he asking me this?
I remember how he asked that night too.
Blushing, I nod. “Yeah, it most definitely was.”
He cocks a brow, entertained. “Really? Because I remember a sassy brat who told me ‘yeah, right’ and then stomped away.”
My chest deflates as I exhale. “Like I said, thirteen-year-old insecurities…I wasn’t exactly an expert on boys. Hell, I didn’t even have a real boyfriend until my junior year of high school.”
