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Opening the book, he licked his dirty fingers to leaf through the smudged pages. Mechanics dealt with a lot of grime, grease, and oil. Filth, she supposed, was part of the job.
“Offend you?” he asked, glancing up.
“If you’re calling me easy, yes.”
Though, in truth, all of her sexual encounters were of the brief and easy variety. Necessity kept them that way. Tess and her mom adopted a “don’t-ask, don’t-tell” policy on that score.
“Free spirited,” he said, trying to show her a smile. The lines on his brow suggested his smoking was starting to catch up with him. “If you were easy, we’d be in my trailer already.”
“That’s you who lives back there?”
He flicked over another page. “Surprised?”
“Yeah,” she said without shame. “I figured whoever stayed back there had to be responsible for security… You don’t seem like the type.”
“To handle myself?”
“Uh, no,” Tess said because she couldn’t deny the strength of his physique. “The type to care.”
He snickered. “Yeah, maybe, Little Red…” Slapping a hand onto the page, he ran a fingertip along a line of text. “We’ve got it in the yard, not much left.”
Her gusto shrank. “I knew that.”
The guy at the morgue had resisted providing a list of injuries. At that point, all they had were the cursory results, but those were enough to make the truth obvious. Her mom hadn’t stood a chance.
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
Lost in her own thoughts, Tess hadn’t noticed him coming around the counter. His eyes were still heavy and his hair a mess, but his solid form was more commanding than she’d given him credit for on first sight. The guy was ridiculously tall. In that moment, there was something comforting about his height and obvious capability. So comforting that for a split second, she envied him. Maybe not giving a crap wouldn’t be such a bad way to live.
Since learning about the accident, she’d had no one to talk to, no one to comfort her. She hadn’t even cried. Not really. Every time sadness crept in, she pushed it aside to focus on the practical. Things needed to be done. Places visited. Arrangements made.
When she caught a glimmer of discernment in Danny, she cleared her throat and took a step back. The last thing she needed to do was gain the curiosity of the junkyard lackey, even if there was zero chance of ever seeing him again.
“Lead the way,” she said.
He might not care that her mother was dead, but he’d done her a favor by skipping over the expected ID requirement. The car was registered to her. To one of her identities. The ID she’d brought was fake, they all were. Tess didn’t even know her real last name.
Danny took her outside and led her past a few rows of crushed cars. “Want to grab a drink later?”
Women probably weren’t common around a junkyard, so Tess didn’t read too much into the invitation. Being an attractive guy, he wouldn’t have to work hard for attention from the opposite sex.
“Do you ask out every woman who comes by here?” she asked to avoid answering the question.
He puffed out his cheeks. “Sometimes they ask me.”
Watching the ground, she hid her smile. “I’ll bet.”
“Cut loose, Little Red. Let’s go crazy.”
At least the guy was a Prince fan; there was hope for him yet.
“Thanks,” she said, trying not to focus on his heat permeating her way. “But I’m seeing someone tonight.”
The yard opened out beyond the trailer. A bunch of heavy machines and equipment were intermingled with piles of twisted, gnarled metal.
Danny stopped and pointed. At first, Tess didn’t have a clue what he was pointing at. When she saw the streak of red paint and realized that was her car, her mouth opened in shock.
“Need us to tow it somewhere for you?”
