Chapter 2 #2
Emery scoffs again, and I’m starting to think if she was a bird, that would be her call. “I’ve been here for a week, and I haven’t managed to run into you yet, so I think I’ll be fine. As soon as you fix my truck, we can go our separate ways.”
“Right,” I say, ignoring the lump in my throat.
When I spot the storefront I’ve driven past countless times over the years, I slow the truck to a stop and ease my way to the side of the road.
As soon as the vehicle is in park, the passenger door flings open, and Emery hits the pavement. The commotion wafts the scent of cherries and white jasmine straight toward me, and I melt into my seat.
It took me weeks to get that smell out of my old truck, but hopefully, fate will take it easy on me this time. However, based on this fun little coincidence, I highly doubt it.
“Wait up,” I yell, launching myself out of my own seat. I slam the door and jog to the other side of the truck.
When I get there, Emery’s eyebrows are pressed together in determination as she unlatches the first ratchet strap without untightening it. I close my eyes and shake my head, waiting for the first bang as the weight of the dresser, or whatever the heck she called it, shifts.
“Shit,” she breathes out, lifting her hands away from the piece.
I try really hard to bite my tongue and hold in my laugh, but it’s useless. I’ve never been one to hold back and I’m not going to start now.
Emery whips her head toward me with the nastiest death glare I’ve ever seen on a woman, and I’ve had my fair share of those looks.
She keeps glaring at me, and I raise my eyebrows, expecting her to say something. Then she flicks her head toward the rest of the straps and places her hands on her hips, waiting for me to jump in and save the day.
“No, no, no,” I say low and slow, lounging against the side of the tow truck. “You look like you’ve got it handled.”
“Knox,” Emery growls, tipping her head toward me as annoyance bubbles under the surface of her porcelain skin.
“Use your words. You know what I like to hear.”
That causes the light red tint under her skin to poke through, making it look like her head’s about to explode any minute. Another satisfying wave of amusement washes over me. I am having way too much fun with this.
And then another realization hits me—I missed this. I missed annoying her and seeing that small vein poke through on her forehead. We only had that one summer, but it was long enough to get to know her better than I’ve ever allowed myself to know anyone else.
“Can you please help me so I can go back to forgetting you exist?” she asks with a tight and almost endearing smile.
Ouch. My lungs constrict and my stomach tightens. She sure could land a punch when she wanted to.
“Fine,” I huff. I’m tempted to cover up the hurt on my face with a joke or something flirty to lighten the mood, but when I search for something to say, I come up empty.
I let out a big sigh, walking over to her. I stare down at the place where her hand is still tightly situated on the strap and clear my throat. She tears her eyes away from mine and quickly jumps back.
“You need to pull back on this latch to loosen the strap,” I say, demonstrating the motion before stepping aside.
“You’re not going to do it for me?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
“No,” I reply, hating the way my words feel tight and serious now.
“I figured you’d want to learn for yourself.
I may be a clueless idiot, but I can deduce that you’ll be hauling things a lot in this truck.
Especially with taking over your grandma’s antique shop.
You need to know how to do this if you’re going to go back to ignoring me. ”
Emery’s face relaxes into light shock, and her lips fall open. “I never said I was taking over her shop,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say, shoving my hands in the front pockets of my jeans, “but I remember you talking about how much you loved her shop when we were kids. If you’re sticking around, that’s got to be why.”
Her eyes widen slightly, pinning me in place. “You remember that?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.
“Yes,” I respond. “I might talk a lot, but I’m capable of listening too.”
A quiet laugh falls from her lips, and I can feel the color start to return to my face.
But then just as fast as she relaxes, her shoulders start to tense up, and her face drops into the same solemn expression I’ve been greeted with for the past hour or so.
This must be her new default setting. Maybe it’s time for a reset.
She shakes her head and walks up to the next ratchet strap before following my directions. She works in silence, but I can tell by the way her forehead creases that there’s a lot going on in that pretty head of hers.
I remember how much fun I had getting her to open up when we were teenagers.
I’ve always loved the art of finding out what makes someone tick, just like I love figuring out what makes a vehicle run.
When we first met, Emery kept her thoughts locked up tight, but I slowly figured out the combination.
Once all the straps are removed and Emery unwraps the piece from the blanket protecting it, I don’t waste any time hopping up on the tailgate and helping her get it down from the truck.
The thing is heavier than it looks, so I take the lead on lowering it to the ground while she guides it from down below. I don’t make a comment when I see her eyes hover on my biceps bulging against the fabric of my T-shirt. I’ll let her have a small sliver of peace before I let go again.
“I think I have a dolly in my truck,” I say when we successfully get the armoire on the ground.
“No need,” she says, stopping me. “I have one in the shop. Your work here is done.”
My jaw tightens as I tip my head forward.
“Right,” I say, pulling back my frustration.
If I stay much longer, I’m sure I won’t be able to keep my big fat mouth shut.
Ultimately, I will say something stupid, she’ll scowl, and then I’ll spend my ride home wishing I could take it back.
Like the fact that I wish I could rewind to that summer and tell her how I really felt instead of letting her walk away.
“I’ll have Sal call you when your truck’s ready. I’ll try to have it done as soon as possible,” I say, lifting a hand to awkwardly scratch the back of my neck.
“Thank you,” Emery says with her eyes glued to the pavement. Her lips part once more, and I lean in, waiting for her to say something else, but then she quickly clamps them shut again before spinning on her heel.
“You’re welcome,” I respond, my shoulders sagging.
She disappears inside, leaving the door cracked.
I debate hanging out until she reappears with the dolly just to make sure she doesn’t need any help, but then I decide against it.
Even if I did wait out here, I know she’ll hide inside until I leave.
She’s always been good at avoiding situations or people she doesn’t care to interact with.
And unfortunately, I fall in that category now.
With another dramatic sigh, I head back to the tow truck and climb inside. Both of my hands grip the steering wheel, needing the tension to rub against the calluses on my hands. I find myself hesitating before turning the key and putting the truck in drive.
My eyes stay trained on the small storefront, wondering if she’ll chase me down to say something else. Hell, I’d take another insult thrown my way. Anything to relive the lackluster goodbye we just shared.
But she stays hidden, and I decide to leave her alone. Even if the mere thought of her being this close but so far away drives me to insanity.