Frayed Silk(11)

I flick my turn signal on, waiting for someone to pull out into the flow of traffic before taking their spot a few shops up from the shelter. Flipping down my visor, I fluff my hair and check to make sure no remnants of breakfast remain around my mouth. Satisfied, I flip it up and grab my purse, jumping out of the car to find a pair of amused green eyes watching me. Jared shifts from leaning against the back of my car. How the hell did I not notice he was there?

“Morning, Blondie.” He moves in and smiles down at me. “No need to check yourself for me. You’d still be beautiful wearing a garbage bag.”

My lips curve into a smile. “Morning, trouble. Let’s go; I’m running a few minutes late, so I know that means you’re even later.”

I lock the car and drop my keys in my purse as he falls into step beside me.

“I love the way you worry about me, but Glenda loves me, so don’t sweat it.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re so full of it.”

He chuckles. “Come on. Places to be, mouths to feed.” He opens the door for me, and we walk out the back to sign in.

“Jared Williams,” Glenda huffs with her hands on her hips by the storeroom door.

Jared turns up the charm. “Morning, Glendie. Has anyone ever told you that purple is most definitely your color?” He gestures to her purple t-shirt.

She turns a little red in the face and waves her hand at him. “Oh, you sneaky thing. Get moving then, but be warned, I’ll be watching the clock next time.”

He beams at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Were you late because you were waiting on me?” I ask as we wash our hands.

He shakes his head, grabbing some paper towels. “Yes and no. Had some shit to check in on this morning.”

Frowning, I wonder what he has to check in on before nine thirty in the morning.

“Like what?” I blurt as I tug my hair net and apron on.

He does the same. “My shop.”

“Shop?” I ask.

“Yep.” He pops the p then sighs before continuing, “I run a custom bike and car shop a few blocks from here.”

Oh, wow. Though I don’t know why I’m shocked. Just because he’s had a run-in with the law doesn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t have some kind of normal life outside of having to volunteer here. “What’s it called?”

He snaps his gloves on then opens the fridge, bending to grab some vegetables. And yep, I end up staring as his jeans fall farther down over his boxer briefs. His shirt rides up, showing a sliver of skin. “Surface Rust,” he says, standing and closing the door. A knowing smile on his face tells me he knows I was looking at his ass. I flush then realize what he said. “Wait, what?” A little snort escapes my mouth. “That’s the name of your business?”

He shrugs, placing everything on the counter. “What can I say? Too many jaeger bombs and a good joint or two used to do wonders for my creative side.” He grabs a knife and a chopping board. “Besides, the name hasn’t turned away any customers yet.”

I grab some gloves and pull them on. “How do you swing that? Working there and here?”

He stares down at the food. “I do what I need to.” His tone lightens again as he continues, “Got a great team of guys helping out at the shop, too, so that helps.”

Nodding, even though he’s not looking at me, I grab the meat out of the fridge, and we work in comfortable, yet strangely charged silence for a while. I try to think of something to say to break the tension, but he beats me to it.

“Have you been thinking about my offer?”

Glancing around to make sure no one is within hearing distance, I whisper, “Shhh, and no.”

He just grins down at the counter. “You sure about that?”

“I am,” I answer. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He’s quiet for a moment before finally responding. “I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you instantly knew what I was asking you just now.”

Swallowing hard, I avert my eyes back to the task at hand as my breathing turns choppy. I’m determined to ignore the curiosity and hurt that seem intent on sending me spiraling into something I shouldn’t even be thinking about—let alone doing.

We’re quiet again, but over the next half hour, he takes every opportunity to brush his arm or hand against mine, causing the tiny hairs all over my body to rise with awareness. He even goes so far as to brush his hand over my ass before he slips what I think is a piece of paper into my apron.

I keep preparing lunch, waiting until I go to the bathroom to read it.

Once I do, I open it to find that all it says is: The Green, room twenty-two.

My heart stills and almost stops beating as I piece together what he’s asking me.

Holy shit. I toss it in the trash can and wash my hands before making my way back out to the kitchen. There’s no way I could actually do it.

Could I?

He finds me alone in the hallway and walks right up to me.

“What do you say, Blondie? Ready to let me make your legs shake?” he whispers as he gets close enough to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

My mouth dries; my body is feeling absolutely ready.

But my heart? It’s pounding so fast, and I don’t even know why. In excitement? Guilt? Fear? I think it’s an unhealthy combination of all three.