Chapter 11 #2
He pumps the jack while I set the other stands by each wheel. “So, us being here and your more-than-usual shitty attitude today has nothing to do with the beautiful woman you’ve been escorting to work, grocery shopping with, and then delivering cookies to in the morning?”
I already want to ram my head into the side panel. “Do you all have anything else to do besides message each other about what I’m doing?”
He shrugs. “No, man. We don’t. You know that.”
I should have told him to go to the gym. I need silence where I cannot think and just get this done. All sorts of feelings are starting to emerge, and I’m not sure what to make of any of them. All I know is I don’t want to talk about it.
“Did Krissy ask you to go through the townhouse and apartment she’s deciding between?” I’m turning this nosey shit off.
He moves the jack in front of the rear wheel. “No.”
“I told her to ask you to go with her to get your thoughts.”
Carson’s family owns a home construction business, and he knows as much about building houses as he does about fixing automobiles, maybe more.
He places the stand under the pinch weld. “I haven’t heard from her.”
I turn the tables, shoving a little of my discomfort in his direction. “Are you taking time off for Thanksgiving to go home?”
“No.”
Funny, all amusement has evaporated from his tone.
We work silently, removing the broken bearing and installing the new one.
“Let’s leave it up, and I’ll have Wind put the new brakes and rotors on first thing,” I say, putting my tools back in my chest .
Carson wipes his hands on a shop rag. “Is finishing this job going to make you less temperamental?”
I groan.
“Don’t get me wrong. You’re kind of an asshole all the time, but a moderately pretty one with a good heart.”
If Carson thinks we’re going to get deep and sentimental, he’s got another thing coming.
“You know, just because you return her car doesn’t mean you can’t see her anymore. You could man up and ask her out.” He just keeps pushing, so I push back.
“When was the last time you’ve been on a date?”
“I don’t date. It’s a waste of fucking time.” He pulls his work gloves from his back pocket and tosses them in his tool chest. “I know what I want. Until then, I’m keeping things simple.”
I roll the jack to the wall and turn toward him. “Sounds like we have the same philosophy.”
He unzips his coveralls. “Nah. See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He points at me. “You pretend you don’t want a life outside of this. Someone to go home to and love. A family.” He pulls his arms out of the sleeves and stops. “I want all of that. I’m just waiting for her.”
I glare at him and his bravery in pointing out what might possibly be true.
He steps out of his coveralls. “You do a good job of pushing people away. Maybe it’d be ok not to push away someone you actually want to stick around.”
He smiles that pretty boy smile, and I want to punch it off his face.
“I’m not pushing anyone away. I’m just running my business.”
He hangs them on a hook. “I don’t know. Seems like this might be a tad bit more than a job.”
I replace my tools while Carson locks the garage doors.
He passes me and slaps me on the shoulder. “Let’s go to Crusins. You owe me dinner and beer.”
“I don’t owe you shit. ”
He laughs. “I beg to differ.” He waits by the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ll think about this and realize I’m right.
On top of that, I don’t think you’ve stopped to consider that maybe Sarah might need somebody, too.
Not somebody to take care of her. A friend.
A partner. Someone she can actually trust and rely on. ”
I look at him, and he only stares back. I need to fire his ass. He’s too damn insightful to be here.
From what I’ve seen, it’s very likely Sarah needs someone, but I’m not sure if that person should be me. I don’t know her story or what brought her here, and I’m not interested in entering a situation where I can’t see what’s coming.
I did that once, and I was blindsided by my own immaturity and stupidity.
I hit the light switches, turning off the big overhead lights. “If you’re so damn smart and know what you want, what in the hell are you still doing here? Why aren’t you out there doing it? You don’t belong in this garage, and you know it.”
He leans against the counter, his gaze shifting into something harder.
I hit a nerve. He’s been throwing jabs all night at my weak spots.
Take that shithead .
“It’s called strategy. I’m biding my time and figuring out how and when to make my move.” One side of his mouth curls upward. “So, for now, you’re stuck with me.”
I roll my eyes and pull my cap lower. “Shit. You’re more like me than you’ll ever admit.”
He pulls the door open. “Nah. The difference between you and me is that I have hope. Hope that someday, I’m going to get exactly what I want.”
There was a time when I wanted everything he described and thought I’d have it. But that blew all to hell, and I’ve been unwilling to even think about trying it again ever since .
That is, until the stubborn girl next door strolled in, never once giving a single shit about barriers and all the layers I’ve honed into place to lock it all out.
But now, it’s possible I’m seeing glimmers of what I thought I was done wanting long ago.
The problem is, once you have feelings like that—or hope, as Carson calls it—they can vanish just as quickly as you let them rise.