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“I do.” My palms are sweating. Dammit, I won’t be intimidated by this guy, even if he’s Gigi’s family and my potential employer. “I mean, I know a thing or two about cars. Dad…” I wince. “Mr. Lowe taught me before he passed.”
Matt’s brows go up. “That’s good to hear. When can you start?”
I stare at him. “Now if you like.”
“I like. You try it, see if you manage, and we see if you can stand us.”
I laugh, can’t fucking help it. “As long as you don’t trip me and then kick me when I’m down, trust me, I’ll be fine.”
“The hell?” Kaden exchanges a look with his brother, and I stop laughing.
Looks like I have the same problem around Gigi’s family that I have with her: I can’t keep my big mouth shut.
Matt scowls. “That’s not good.”
Fuck. “Look, I—”
“They did that to you?” Kaden crowds me, staring at the shiner on my jaw. “Is that why you’re limping?”
And here I thought my knee was doing good today. “Nah, that’s an old thing.”
“Okay. You’re not going back to that place,” Matt says. “No way. Do you hear me?”
He looks quite older than me. He has to be in his early thirties, and he has an air of authority about him, and strength that reminds me of Connor.
“I’m not going back,” I say.
“Awesome.” Suddenly he grins and pats me on the back, making me choke.
“Does that mean…?”
“It means you should quit smoking,” he tells me gruffly. “It’s the devil. Bad if you wanna start a family. You want to grow old with your kids.”
I almost choke again. “Start a family?”
“With Gigi. Think I haven’t seen how you look at her? Come walk with me.”
“Don’t bury his body in the woods without telling me!” Kaden calls after us as Matt steers me out of the office with an arm over my shoulders.
So not fucking funny.
“You can start today,” Matt tells me, leading me through a second bay and out the back of the shop to a small yard. “But first I want you to tell me about yourself.”
Dammit. I managed to evade most of Gigi’s questions, I think, but this guy doesn’t look like he’ll give any quarter. “I finished school, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What about a record? Got one?”
I consider lying, then remember I can’t. That these are good people, Gigi’s people. That I’m done with lying. “I had one. Shoplifting. Damaging of public property. It’s from when I was a kid. I spent some months in juvie, too.” I draw a shallow breath. “Record’s sealed now.”
“Your parents?”
I shrug. “Dead.”
“And then you were adopted?”
“I was. A cop adopted me, by the name of Connor Fenris. He died, too.”
“Damn.” He says it with feeling, and I glance up, curious. “That blows, man. But Gigi says a family adopted you here afterward?”
