8. Corbin
CORBIN
W as Beau going to kiss me? I’d expected him to demand my body in payment for his discretion, but I hadn’t imagined him looking at me with fire in his eyes.
I hadn’t thought kissing would be something he wanted.
I thought he’d push me to my knees or bend me over his desk, use me, and send me on my way.
I’d been prepared for that and not unwilling to let him have me, even if it was fast and rough.
I enjoyed a quick, demanding fuck, though it was a rare occasion when I was willing to allow a man that kind of power over me.
It was dangerous when you were in a family like mine. It gave people the wrong idea.
Even more surprising than the warmth in his eyes as he watched my lips was the way he’d suggested he would trust me to help him after he’d told me I wasn’t worthy of his attention.
What the hell? All I’d done was cower in front of him or act like a brat.
I couldn’t possibly have impressed him with any of that shit, not that I wanted to impress him.
I didn’t give a fuck what Beau thought of me as long as he did what I needed him to.
I wanted to hate him for taunting me, for refusing to do the work for whatever price he would normally charge, for having something he could hold over me—the fact that this was all technically my fault was irrelevant.
Why hadn’t I just taken the car somewhere else? There had to be plenty of shops in town that could repair the damage skillfully. But this was Remy’s Ferrari, not just any car. He only trusted Beau.
And Beau thought I was a piece of shit kid.
Or did he?
If he did, why would he be willing to ask me to work with him?
Maybe it was a ploy. Maybe he was really after my family’s connections, and if not, maybe I could use my connections as leverage to get him to relent on his plan.
I didn’t know a damn thing about cars, and he was going to try to make me look like an idiot.
I was sure he’d get off on telling me what to do.
The problem was, I might get off on it too, and if he realized that, then I was really fucked.
I forced myself to look away from the heat in his eyes. “I should go.”
“Yes, you should.” His voice was gravelly and rough like I imagined it would be if he were fucking me. Would he talk dirty as he pushed into me, took me, used me? Why the hell did I want that so much?
I tried to take a step back, but he held onto my arms. “I can’t leave when you’re holding me. You have to let me go.”
“Do I?”
Jesus, I was really beginning to wonder if he’d put a spell on me. It couldn’t be normal to hate a man this much and still want to offer him anything he asked for. “Yes.”
“For now,” he consented. As soon as he released me, I stepped back, and a chill ran through me. I hadn’t realized how warm I’d gotten with him so close. He was like a fucking heater.
“Don’t be late,” he said.
Did he know how rarely I was ever on time? “I… I won’t.”
“Here.” He held out a set of keys.
I frowned. “What are these for?”
“There’s a Chevy Blazer parked out front.” He pointed to an ancient SUV. “Use it as a loaner to get yourself home and bring it back on Monday.”
I wanted to complain, but until then I hadn’t even thought about how the hell I was going to get home since I was leaving Remy’s car with Beau. I didn’t want to call someone who worked for my family.
Beau gave me a slow smile that let me know he knew I hadn’t made plans.
I turned and left, wanting to run but forcing myself to walk only slightly faster than normal.
He was watching me. I could feel it, and just like the first time, I couldn’t stop myself from looking back at him as I pulled out of the parking space.
I couldn’t see him well as he stood under the dim light over the door, but I was convinced he’d winked at me. The bastard.
The first time my alarm went off on Monday, I must have hit snooze, but I had no memory of that.
The second time, I vaguely remembered wondering what the fuck my phone was doing going off when it was dark outside.
It took a few more cycles of snoozing it until I remembered I was supposed to be at Beau’s body shop.
I sat up way too fast, and my head swam.
Saturday, I’d decided I was too tired to drive to Metairie and pack the shit I’d need to house sit at Remy’s.
I could get it later. Then I’d slept through a lot of Sunday, despite the loud Mardi Gras revelers in the street.
Then some friends had called and enticed me to go out with them.
By the time I found my way back to Remy’s, I was too drunk to go home.
I’d have to make do without my shit for another day.
I had a few changes of clothes at my brother’s. I’d be fine.
When I’d crawled into Remy’s guest bed on Sunday night, it hadn’t mattered how tired I was, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the hell Beau was going to put me through the next day and how I was such an idiot that I’d probably like it, and he would know. How the fuck did he read me so well?
Eventually, I’d given up on falling asleep and consoled myself with some of the finer things in Remington’s liquor cabinet.
I’d known I’d regret it. Being hungover on my first day at Beau’s shop was going to suck donkey balls, but he’d never said I had to do a good job, just that I had to show up and work.
I massaged my forehead, then managed to read the time on my phone.
Oh shit. That couldn’t be right, could it?
How did it get so late? Even if I raced through my shower and—fuck me—none of the clothes I had at Remy’s were at all appropriate.
It was bad enough that I was going to be late, now I was also going to be dressed like a mobster rather than a mechanic.
Maybe if I wore a suit, Beau would put me behind the counter.
I’d improve the image of the place. No, that was a lie.
Beau made a damn fine image behind the counter.
I was going to be late. There was no way around it. My throbbing head wasn’t going to let me rush.
At ten minutes after seven, I walked through the door of the body shop in dress pants and a button-down with a vicious headache, an unsettled stomach, and not one ounce of caffeine in me.
I hadn’t been able to figure out Remy’s absurdly complicated coffee maker in the thirty seconds I had to try and make myself a cup.
Why the hell couldn’t he just have a Keurig like everyone else?
The man who’d interrupted me and Beau when I’d been at the shop the first time was behind the counter. He looked me up and down and whistled. “Damn. Rough night? Fucked your car up?”
I shook my head and immediately regretted it. Before I could respond, Beau walked in from the back. “Oh, you decided to show up after all.”
Anger surged through me. “I?—”
“Were you out all night? You do realize you’re working a full day, don’t you?”
The man behind the counter raised an eyebrow. “Working?”
“Yeah. We’ve made an agreement. I’m doing Corbin a favor, and he’s showing me he can last a whole week here.”
The man looked at me again and then at Beau. Miserable as I was, I didn’t miss the wariness on his face. At least he knew better than to fuck around with one of the Theriots. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, boss?”
“No. It’s a terrible idea. Look at him.” He gestured toward me.
The other man’s look of concern didn’t waver. “I think he should probably go home and go to bed and?—”
“Who’s running this place?”
The man held up his hands in surrender. “You are. Never mind me. I’m going to go look at that Lamborghini.”
“You’ve got a Lamborghini here?” I hadn’t meant to actually say that, but at least it made Beau smile.
“I thought you didn’t know anything about cars.”
“I said I don’t know how to repair cars. That doesn’t mean I don’t know a gorgeous car when I see one.”
“Then learn to show these hotties some respect.”
“I didn’t mean for?—”
He held up a hand. “I’ve got too much to do to argue with you about your intentions. I’ve already got to figure out how to punish you for arriving late, hungover, and inappropriately dressed.
“I couldn’t?—”
“Don’t you dare tell me you couldn’t have shown up on time. If you hadn’t been out?—”
“Can’t you fucking listen? I wasn’t out.” I was sick of him interrupting and thinking he knew everything.
He raised his brows. “Is that how you’re going to talk to your boss?”
“You’re not my boss, not really, and?—”
“Then leave and take your brother’s car with you. Maybe, just maybe, if I don’t see you again, I won’t mention any of this to him.”
I wasn’t leaving. “Please listen. I was at Remy’s. I was tired and decided not to fight the Mardi Gras traffic to get back to Metairie, but I didn’t think about needing different clothes, and…”
He glared at me.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“And you thought the morning would go better if you drowned yourself in whatever over-priced bullshit your brother drinks?”
“He has damn good—” I stopped myself. That was exactly the reaction Beau expected.
With him, being scolded felt different than when it came from my family.
I felt ashamed instead of angry. I could have done better.
I’d told Beau I wasn’t a kid and then… Fuck.
I hated having people tell me what to do, but maybe I needed that or…
something. Not from Beau, though. I couldn’t need him, but I was afraid I already did. “I made a mistake.”
“You sure did. Now what are we going to do about it?”
I didn’t dare respond. I was too afraid he’d send me away like he’d threatened to.
I needed to get Remy’s car fixed, but realistically, I could find someone else.
This wasn’t just about the car anymore. This was about me proving something to Beau and to myself, but I’d already fucked up before I’d even started.
Would he really punish me? And if so, how?