The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(25)

My phone vibrates from where I placed it, the screen lighting up and flashing the name of what’s keeping me so distracted. It’s probably because I feel guilty. Not only did he fix my car without payment, but I was utterly unprofessional during our first meeting. Lifting the phone, I glance at Gabrielle’s desk to see her deep in conversation on a call.

“Hello?”

“You’re not paying me.” His voice is gruff and annoyed and instantly sends a traitorous chill down my spine.

“What?”

“For the tire. You’re not payin’ me.” Something told me it wouldn’t be that easy.

“You provided me a service. I know I needed a new tire. That wasn’t without a cost. Any reputable mechanic shop—”

“The shop didn’t do it. I did.” I’m silent, trying to process what he’s saying.

“What?”

“It wasn’t a job, Cass. It was a favor. You needed your tire fixed. I did it.”

“But… Why?”

“It’s not safe for you to drive around on your spare. I didn’t like the idea of you doing it.” He stops there, but my mind fills in blanks it has no right to fill in as unexpected warmth floods me. But still…

“Did you steal from the garage?”

“What?”

“Tires aren’t free, Mr. Dawson—”

“Luke. We’re past that shit.” I sigh and roll my eyes.

“Fine, Luke. Tires aren’t free. So either you paid for the replacement yourself or you stole it. And if you stole it, I’m not sure I want to be driving on stolen property.” His laugh has me forcing my lips not to tip up and join in.

“I didn’t steal it. I get a generous employee discount. Consider it a thank you for a great night.”

“I can’t accept that. I’d be much more comfortable paying—”

“You push it, I’m gonna be mad. Please, don’t fight me on this. I’m exhausted, sure you are too. You can pay me back by being a good sport.” Guilt fills me, knowing he’s at work, exhausted because of me. As much as I want to argue, it doesn’t feel like the right thing to do. So instead, I sigh, resigned.

“That’s very… kind of you.”

“That’s me, kind.” He says it with a laugh, like he thinks I’m cute instead of annoying.

“You are. Well. Thank you for clearing that up. And for… the tire. I won’t take up more of your time.”

“I have time.”

“What?” I ask in confusion.

“On my lunch.”

“What?”

“Is your phone broken?”

“What?” Can I say anything else besides what?! The uptight librarian shakes her head at me, arms crossed over her chest as she watches me continue to make a fool of myself in front of this man.

“Can you hear me?”

“Shit. I mean, shoot. I mean. Yes. Yes, I can hear you.” What is going on with me right now? I spend every day doing phone interviews, talking, and analyzing. Then, I get this one man on the phone and what, I revert to goofy college girl? “You’re on your lunch?”

“That’s why it took me a bit to call you after you texted. Had to clock out, get to the break room.”

“Oh, well. Enjoy your lunch. I’ll… speak with you later.”

“I took my lunch to call you.”

“What?” He laughs, and it takes a lot for me not to laugh at myself too...

“I took my lunch to call you, Cassie. Might as well keep me on the line a little longer, don’t you think?” It made some kind of weird sense. It would actually be rude to hang up, right? I should… you know, talk to him.

“Oh. Okay. Do you normally do that? Take calls on your lunch?”

“It’s not strict here. I can take calls during work hours so long as I get shit done. I was talking to my sister when you texted. But I wanted privacy. No distraction. So I took my lunch.”

“Oh,” I say, confused about what to say, how to interpret his words. Silence takes over the line. Then, I open my mouth because I cannot seem to talk about anything but work. “Have you planned your date yet?” Now, why the hell did I ask that? In fact, I should be telling him the date isn’t necessary. I went so off plan for our first date, I should just add him to my system as-is. We spent the required time together, after all. And I’m 99% sure he’s not a mass murderer or hiding some secret wife.

But instead, I’m encouraging the date.

And if I’m being completely transparent with myself, I’m really looking forward to it.

Just another reason I should cancel this date before it even happens.

“Yup.”

“Oh.” Another pause, and even though I can’t see him, even though I can’t hear the action, it’s like I can feel his smile down the line. The smile he made all last night when I’d blush because I knew some random trivia or when I’d ask him a question from my sheet. “How did you get my cell number?” I don’t give clients my personal number for safety reasons. Instead, we communicate on the office phone or via email exclusively.

“Jordan.”

“I figured. She’s nice. I… I like her. And your friends. They were very welcoming.”