It’s been a while since I’ve been nervous to talk to someone, partly because I avoid people in general, and mostly because there are very few people whose opinion I care about enough to worry how they see me.
But with her… with her I’m hyperaware of everything. How I look. How I smell. What I say. How I sound.
It shouldn’t be like this. I mean… I only just met her.
Apart from being Reid’s ex, she’s just the same as any other client, so I should, theoretically, treat her the same.
But I can’t.
I know it, and I can’t even explain why. There’s no logical reason for it. Just that somewhere inside, I feel a connection with her that’s been there since the moment I laid eyes on her.
A bond.
It’s not just that she’s beautiful. She feels… familiar. Like somehow even though we just met, in another way I’ve known her all my life.
My grandmother would say she might be the lost half of my soul. Grandma always said I would know the right woman for me when I met her.
She never mentioned she’d come in a package quite like this.
“Hey,” the woman—Sierra—says, her voice a little breathless. Is she tired? Did she run here?
She’s not sweating, so I don’t think it’s from exertion.
Is it fear then? Is she scared of me?
“Of course she is. Big fucker like you staring her down like some sort of creep.”
I tear my gaze away and look at anything but her—the green leaves on the trees, the dirt under my boots, the glint of the car’s chrome bumper in the sunlight.
Her car—of course. That’s why she’s here.
My chest dips, but I tell myself to stop being stupid.“What did you think she’d come for? Your charming personality?”
“Sorry to bother you again,” she says. “Especially after, you know, yesterday. But I was wondering if you could tell me what’s wrong with my car.”
Shit. She wants me to speak? Right now?
What do I say?
“Exactly what she asked, idiot.”
“The fan,” I manage to stumble out with, but it comes out all wrong. Not smooth. Not normal. More like a bark, like something feral.
Jesus.
And it doesn’t even explain anything, so of course she has to follow up.
“Is it broken?”
I shake my head. The fan failed. That’s why it overheated. Probably just a fuse, but there might be other damage. I’ll know once I’ve gone through it. But explaining all that requires actual words, though, and right now I can barely manage one.
My heart’s beating too fast. My throat’s dry.
I’m too aware of my face, my size, the grease on my hands. If I’d known she was coming, I would’ve at least cleaned up a bit. Practiced something in the mirror so I didn’t stand here like an idiot.
“So the radiator isn’t broken?” she asks when I don’t add anything. “It’s fine?”
I shake my head again.