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I lift my shoulders. “I was watching the game.”
“You can’t be serious. You’ve never noticed them before?”
“I’ve noticed,” I admit. “But I was there for my team. Not for an ego boost.”
“Huh.”
Hollyn doesn’t say anymore, getting more comfortable in her spot as I tell Graham I’m in hiding and everything’s fine.
The pizza arrives about twenty minutes later and Hollyn practically jumps off the couch to grab it.
I catch up to her, wrapping my forearm around her middle and rearranging myself so that I’m in front of the door, and she’s not in view of some teenager who constantly has his dick in his hand.
“Take a seat, Shorty,” I tell her. “You’re not answering the door in that.”
Hollyn doesn’t argue, stealing a look at herself before crossing her arms over her chest and pivoting back for the couch.
She’s gonna kill someone someday with that body and lack of how much she can affect a man.
I’m barely hanging on as it is and I’m immune to the shit.
Almost.
HOLLYN
“Sir, can we get back to the cost you quoted me,” I exhort exasperatedly. “I don’t understand how it’s six hundred more dollars—”
“Can you autograph this for me? I’m a huge fan.”
Okay, this is annoying.
Everything was going great until the kid on the other side of the counter noticed that Reid was at my side and has been fangirling ever since. If this is something daily that he deals with, I’m not sure how he does it.
Especially being him.
“How about you take care of the lady first,” Reid professes flatly, pointing at the kid’s abandoned computer from his baseball cap. “And then I’ll think about it.”
His brown eyes get wide with excitement before he rummages back behind the screen and goes back into work mode. “Yeah, so that’s eight hundred and sixty dollars and three cents.”
Yeah, so let’s make sure to grab that three cents.
“How?” I ask with a shrug. “The gentleman told me it was just a bad battery.”
“It was,” he says with pinched brows. “But then we took a look at everything else and—”
“Why did you look at other shit and not ask her about it?” Reid cuts in, and I’m glad I have this Pitbull at my side. I sense some shady dealings over here, and it’s because I’m a woman, I'm sure.
“The notes say that the car was making a clinking noise.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I retort. “It just wasn’t starting.”
“That’s what it says here,” the little jerk says, pointing his finger as if that’s what’s supposed to seal the deal at my believing him. “And your spark plugs needed to be changed.”
“For six hundred dollars?” I hedge. “That’s highway robbery.”
“It’s the cost.”
“You do this to all the females that waltz in here, Kevin?” Reid solicits, and I hadn’t noticed his name embroidered on his blue shirt. Just the price tag of what he was trying to get me to pay.
