Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I’m assuming he doesn’t mean for me to hold up a mirror so he can see himself, so I say, “Let’s go.” Really, this is the next best thing. The pop and crackle of excitement and pride goes off beneath my skin as Morgan follows me toward Dusty’s Collision Repair. “This is the outside.” I point to the building, earning a chuckle from Morgan.
“Smart-ass.”
“There’s the door right there.”
“God, I hate you.” He chuckles again, then wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. “And I missed you.”
I try to play it off like his words don’t make my pulse race. “So you said. Geez, so clingy.”
We head inside, where Easton is working on the vehicle. He turns off his machine to say, “Look who’s slacking now.”
“You don’t slack when you’re here. You just don’t always show up on time. And who said you can talk to your boss that way?”
“Your best friend is mean,” Easton says to Morgan before the machine is turned on again and he’s back to ignoring us.
“He really only talks to people when he wants to, doesn’t he?”
“Yep.” I agree, sad that Morgan doesn’t know his own brother better. “Come on.”
I take him through the shop, showing him where body work is done, the lifts, and then the paint stall. Morgan studies everything, asks questions and listens. He’s always been good at that—making another person feel important. Like whatever I care about, he cares about too. It’s one of my favorite things about him.
We head down the hallway leading to a garage that’s separate from the others. Morgan stops dead in his tracks. I don’t expect it, so I run into him.
“Holy shit. You have your baby.” The awe in his voice fills me up in ways it shouldn’t.
“Yeah, just for a few months. I haven’t done anything with her yet. I’m not sure why. I guess it’s hard when you want something for so long, and then you get it and… I don’t know. I’m suddenly afraid or something—of messing up or not being able to do it. Does that make sense?”
It sounds fucking ridiculous, and I’m embarrassed I even said it until he says, “Yeah…yeah, I get it. But you can do this. This Mustang is your dream. She’ll be beautiful when you’re done.” Morgan walks over and rubs his hand reverently over the metal. He’s never been into cars as much as I am, but he does enjoy them. His brain is inclined to all things mechanical just like it is with numbers and business, and hell, just about anything. Morgan’s the kind of man who doesn’t have limits. “I always thought we’d do this together, even though it’s something that really is just yours.”
His words light a spark in my chest, making me glow. “We can…while you’re here, at least.”
Morgan turns and looks at me. “But this is yours. I show up after ten years and just fit myself right back in. Rhett was right about that.”
“Rhett isn’t us. I want your help. I’d love to work on her with you.”
He crosses his arms and smiles. “Even if I’m not as good as you? I mean, you’re a professional now.”
“And that’s different from the past how? I was always better than you.”
Morgan gives me a playful push. “Fuck off, asshole.”
“I just speak the truth.” When he doesn’t reply, I add, “Just when you have time. We don’t have to make a big thing of it. Hell, maybe it will get my ass in gear with her. And maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”
It feels like an eternity stretches between us.
“I’ve learned that my best friend is even more of a cocky little shit than he used to be.”
I wink at him. “Baby, I get better with age.” I don’t really expect him to react to my teasingly flirting with him. I used to do it all the time. Morgan would do it with me too. It’s how we’ve always been.
What does feel new is how his eyes run the length of me, taking me in, like he’s appreciating me in a way he never had before. It’s a slow perusal, one I feel deep in my bones and makes my pulse speed up. Maybe it’s wishful thinking—it probably is wishful thinking—but it still makes my blood heat.
“I can see that,” Morgan says, his words melting over me like warm honey.
He can see that? Jesus, this man will be the death of me. “Work on my car with me. I want to do this with you while you’re here.”
Morgan doesn’t speak right away, holding my gaze with an iron grip. Not that I want him to let it go. I want his eyes on me all the time, because mine damn sure are on him whenever we’re in the same room.
“I’d like that,” Morgan finally says.