Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Coop tosses a black stained rag on top of the slate-gray counter and puts his hands on his hips.
“Thought you’d track me down and accidentally run into me? Well, you can turn your pretty little ass around and try that shit with another sucker because I ain’t the one.”
Wow. His words, harsh and unnecessary, lash at me like the tip of a whip, opening still fresh wounds from Daddy’s early morning tongue lashing.
“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” I snap. I wait a few more seconds until my hands stop shaking, until the tears threatening to fall are gone.
“My car broke down last night on the way home, and my father said this was the best place in town for repairs.”
There. My tone is neutral and professional. That should tame the beast some.
“And you just happened to choose this place? R-i-i-i-ght.”
I sigh and reach far and wide for patience. “I didn’t choose any place. My dad told me to have it towed here last night. Can you see if it’s here? Please?”
His deep blue glare might have been intimidating on any other morning, but today it just pissed me off.
“No.”
Okay, so we aren’t going to do this the easy way.
“I thought you were a fucking biker, Coop. The vest and the boots and the shit stomping of those guys led me to believe you were a biker, not a guy with a real job at a car shop.”
I shake my head, hands shaking with anger and frustration, and just a pinch of humiliation. “How about you grab one of your coworkers to help me since you won’t?”
He flashes a smile that looks more like a grimace. “I’m the only one here.”
I can’t believe this guy. Does he treat all his one-night stands like this?
“All right. Can you recommend a shop that’s fast and reasonably priced? I tell him about my problem. “The car shook and sputtered, and then all the dash stuff went out a few seconds before the car stopped running, if that helps at all.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I stare back before turning to my phone to find another repair shop.
“Which car is yours?”
His words surprise me, but I don’t believe him, not right away.
“Why, do you want to make sure it’s really broken?”
I don’t wait for an answer. “The blue Lexus,” I spit out.
“You leave the keys in it?”
“I don’t know. I gave them to the tow truck driver.”
“All right. I’ll be back.” I stay where I am while Coop goes out to check on the car, still looking up backup mechanics on my phone just in case he’s screwing with me.
Five minutes later, Coop walks back in with my keys dangling from his fingers. “All right. I’ll get it up on the diagnostic machine, and we can go from there.” His tone is a lot less angry than a few minutes ago, but I won’t forget it.
Asshole.
“Great. Do computer issues generally take a long time to fix?” I need my car to get to class, my therapist, and all the other places I have to get to each week.
Coop nods, his lips twitching into an amused smile. “Depends on the exact issue. That’s what the machine is for. If you want to wait, I’ll get back to you in about thirty minutes.”
It’s not like I have anywhere else to be, and even if I did, I have no way to get there. “Sure. I’ll wait.”
Coop stands in front of the computer, staring at the screen, and I give myself permission to admire his physical form. Coop is tall, a little over six feet by my estimation, and imposing with broad shoulders and a slender waist. Long legs covered in denim that’s too worn to hide the thick muscles in his thighs. His ass. No man should be so damn appealing.
His brows dip in concentration as he stares at the screen before he pulls out the keyboard.
My gaze slides from his deep blue eyes to the slightly crooked nose that only makes him more appealing, down to one forearm with bunching muscles, and finally, to his hand. His bloody and swollen hand.
“My goodness, Coop, your hands!”
He freezes, looks at me, and then down to his hands with a shrug.
“No big deal. Hazards of fighting.”
Not a big deal?
“It damn well is a big deal! Your hands are all cut up and swollen. That’s a recipe for infection. Is that what you want, to get an infection from sticking open wounds under car hoods and inside engines and God only knows what?”
His lips twitch again, and this time I know it’s at my expense.
“No.”
“Good. Where’s your bathroom?”
He points down a short, brightly-lit hallway. “There.”
I stare at Coop, and he stares back for so long my nipples harden to points despite my frustration.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Come on and bring your First-Aid kit.”