Chapter 8
The next day, I felt sick as a dog. It was probably a combination of the alcohol from the night before and everything else going on that made my head spin and stomach churn.
Thankfully the shop wasn’t busy, and April kept the customers happy while I worked in the back, wrapping up gift orders.
During the downtime, I’d sit outside in the sunshine on the wooden bench, listening to music until a customer wandered into the shop.
It was slow on weekdays, which is why we desperately needed new ways to attract customers.
Truthfully, it only took one of us to run the shop during certain hours, but our boss wanted two workers on site during peak hours. We had two other girls who worked part time and rotated shifts as needed.
Charlie, our boss, frequently stopped in to see how things were going, but not so much lately.
He spent a lot of his spare time reading if not telling stories about Greek mythology or the truth behind ancient Egyptian culture.
It was riveting to hear his spin on things and it was too bad he never pursued a career in teaching.
Charlie wasn’t just the owner, but also the manager on call. He’d never hired anyone to fill that role because it would have meant paying out a higher salary, so I had become the designated lead. Whenever someone had a complaint and asked to speak to the manager, it was me they saw.
Luckily, we didn’t get many complaints. We sold sugar. That made most people pretty damn happy.
“You feeling okay, Alexia?” April came into the back room and sat on the bench beside me, patting my shoulder.
“Not really.”
“Want me to call Beth to come fill in for you today?”
Guilt crawled up and took a seat in my lap.
I hated doing that to someone on their day off.
In fact, I was notorious for taking other people’s shifts and Charlie made it a point to reprimand me for it.
Not in a way that jeopardized my career in the candy field, but he didn’t want me to get burned out on work at a young age.
When my relationship with Beckett got serious, my private life had become more of a priority than work. Now that I was single again, work was starting to fill that void, and not in a good way.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” April dashed to the register, reached in one of the drawers, and returned with a slip of paper. “I got a call this morning from someone; he was trying to get a hold of you about your car. Did you advertise our work number in your ad?”
“Guilty. And don’t tell Charlie. I didn’t want my home number splashed in the paper for all to see, and I’m up here most of the time anyhow.”
April twisted her hair between her fingers. “I won’t say anything, but you could get us in trouble if someone calls when he’s up here.”
I took the paper from her hand and stared at a name and number. “What did he say?”
“To call him?” She laughed quietly. “Go see if he’s interested. I’ll cover for you if he wants to take a look at it today.”
“You’re a godsend,” I said in a miserable voice.
I sat in a very unladylike position in my white skirt, hugging my stomach, my legs spread wide.
We were in a private back room with our very own vending machine and luxurious water fountain.
April didn’t mind the enclosed space, but I preferred sitting on the benches outside during my breaks.
She handed me her phone and I called the number.
Lorenzo (the potential buyer or hapless victim, depending on how you looked at it) didn’t converse much over the phone, but he did want to hear the specs. Manual transmission, new tires, ninety thousand miles, and semen in the back seat.
I left out the last part.
We agreed to meet at a mall I’d been to once before when I was twelve to have my ears pierced.
Lorenzo stood next to a big black truck like he’d described to me.
He wasn’t what I expected. He wore a pair of pale green khakis and a black tank top with writing on it.
Something just didn’t feel right as I pulled into the parking space and looked at his expensive truck.
But those moments are when you convince yourself that you’re overreacting and maybe he was purchasing the car for his girlfriend.
Lorenzo towered beside his sharp, heavy-duty truck with chrome wheels and tinted windows. His straight hair was as black as the truck and fell past his shoulders. He looked Native American with his tanned skin and high cheekbones.
I wiped my brow with my clammy hands, still feeling sick. When I turned off the engine, he slowly paced around the car and began appraising it. I stepped out and felt the scorch of heat from the asphalt.
“Hi, I’m Alexia Knight. You must be Lorenzo.”
“How does she run?” he asked.
“Like a dream.”
His eyes briefly darted to mine. I stepped back with my keys in hand so he could sit in the driver’s seat and check out the interior.
Lorenzo looked at every detail and then glanced at the back seat. I wondered if there was a sex aura back there that psychics could see.
“Has anyone ever worked on the transmission?”
“Nope. But the alternator was repaired, or replaced. Don’t ask me which; I didn’t handle that.”
“Let me see the keys,” he said eagerly.
I hesitated, looking around.
Lorenzo’s hands slid down his pants and stopped at his knees. “If I drive off in your car, feel free to take my truck,” he offered, tossing me his own keys. “Is this in your name or do you have a boyfriend on the papers?”
Was he asking me about my situation?
“It’s my car.”
“How are you going to get around without it?” He laced his fingers together and watched me carefully. “Is someone going to drive you, or do you have another car lined up?”
Had I been sitting, I would have squirmed in my seat. “Do you have an offer?”
Lorenzo pinched his chin, tassels swinging from the leather bracelet on his wrist. “Your asking price and dinner. You didn’t mention a boyfriend, so I’m going to take a chance and guess that you’re just as available as this car.”
I threw his keys and they hit the concrete with a jingle. “I’m not for sale. Get out of my car if you’re not going to buy it.”
“I’ll double the price for a date.”
“What the hell do I look like, a prostitute?”
Jesus, maybe I did. His eyes scraped down my stupid miniskirt and tight-fitting orange shirt that said Sweet Treats on it. For anyone who wasn’t familiar with the area, he might have just assumed I was the sweet treat. I did a mental facepalm and tightened the grip on my keys.
“It looks like this was a waste of your time and mine. I drove all the way out here hoping I would get a serious offer. I don’t come with the car and this isn’t a sex transaction. Get out of my car or I’m calling the police.”
Lorenzo stood up and approached me. I nearly fled, but that stupid impulse was quashed by the logical voice in my head, once again, trying to convince me that I was overreacting.
Except the skull and crossbones tattooed on his arm caught my eye. As did the matching design on the back of his truck window. Men who had skulls on their bodies were usually trouble.
I backed up and he caught my arm. But gently.
Not in the way that would make a girl throw her knee against a man’s balls.
It was a soft touch with just the very tips of his fingers, and his features no longer appeared hard and unpredictable.
Lorenzo’s brown eyes were as warm as his hands and melted me like caramel in the summer sun.
To look at him, Lorenzo was a very handsome man, but I hadn’t made up my mind on his personality.
“My offer is serious. I won’t hurt you, Alexia. I just think you’re exceptionally pretty and I want to show you I’m interested.”
Well, hell. What’s a girl to say to that? I almost wanted to ask if he was still going to pay me double for the cootiemobile.
“Do you really want to buy my car?”
He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled warmly. “Not really. Sorry, it’s not what I’m looking for.” And then his eyes melted over me and my breath quickened. He really wasn’t so bad if you didn’t notice the skull inked on his left arm.
“I need to go,” I sputtered.
“Alexia, please don’t go without giving me your number. Let’s have one conversation and you can decide if I’m a bad guy or not. Unless you have a boyfriend.”
Maybe it’s the mouth-twist thing girls do when someone brings up a boyfriend who doesn’t exist, but he read my expression and a satisfied look glittered in his eyes. Lorenzo pulled a pen from his back pocket and held the tip to his palm. “Number?”
And like a freaking zombie, I found myself reciting my home number. Why not? I’d met the worst mistake of my life in a shop full of sugar. Maybe I’d meet the man of my dreams in a rundown parking lot by a shoe store and an overflowing dumpster.
“I’ll ask around to see if anyone I know is interested in the car,” he promised me. “I know what it’s like to have something you want to get rid of, but for some reason, it keeps hanging around like a curse.”
“Thanks,” I said. “The car needs to go, so if anyone you know wants to take a look at it, give them my work number. Tell them about the car before they show up and change their mind—you’ve seen it, so you’ll be able to sell it better than I can.”
He smiled. Not the kind with teeth, just a broad smile with his lips pressed together. “I’ll do that, Alexia. It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said, raising his hand in a wave. “And my name is Lorenzo Church. Friends call me Enzo, business associates call me Church, but you can call me anytime.”
He bowed his head, and I listened to his black boots tread heavily on the pavement as he walked back to his truck.