Chapter 19 #2
We stay on the swing like that for a long while until my dad can’t take it any longer and demands we come inside to eat before he starves to death.
“He’s so dramatic,” Mom rolls her eyes as we walk inside.
“Yeah, and you love that bout him,” I squeeze her shoulders. “You always say he needed a calm woman to balance him out.” I kiss her cheek.
“Oh yes, I do,” she smiles at my dad, who’s standing in the kitchen with a scowl on his face.
Mom and I whip up an easy dinner, and I stay just long enough to eat before heading home.
By midafternoon the next day, my brain is a carousel of spreadsheets and supply contracts and one very specific pair of hands. I’m highlighting a clause about delivery penalties when Ranger’s voice rumbles down the hall, followed by a comment from Trent.
I glance up just in time to see Scotty in my doorway, his hand extended to the top of the door frame, his body propped lazily against the frame. He isn’t wearing a hat today. His hair’s a little more grown out than usual. His mouth curves when our eyes catch. It’s small.
“Lost?” I ask, aiming for casual.
He scans my office, that slow once-over that always makes me feel giddy inside. “The place looks too clean to get any real work done.”
I arch a brow. “Should I toss a few books around? Make a mess?”
“I can think of a really fun way to make a mess of your desk,” he smiles, eyes glinting.
“Mm.” I tap a page on my desk and tilt my head toward the hallway. “You here for Trent’s party prep?”
“Ranger wanted me to look at something in the brewhouse, see if my hydraulics knowledge will be of any help,” he says, but he’s not looking toward the brewhouse. He’s lingering in my doorway, looking at me like he’s about to make good on that mess comment.
“Come in,” I say, already standing. “I need a second opinion on this contract.”
He snorts. “On what? Hydraulics I can do. Contract law, not so much.”
“It’s a distribution contract,” I say, stepping around the desk and catching his hand without thinking. The physical jolt that shoots through me is embarrassing. I tug him inside and nudge the door half-closed with my hip. “I promise it’ll be painless.”
He lets me pull him to the far side of the desk and leans in so we’re shoulder to shoulder, both of us looking down at the dense block of text. His scent hits me, and my focus snaps like a cheap pencil.
“I see words,” he says, voice low, amused. “Long ones.”
“It’s boilerplate,” I murmur, because that’s the only word still accessible in my brain. “We’re fixing a penalty clause. If a distributor misses windows, they eat the costs, not us.”
He nods like he’s following, then tips his head so his mouth is close to my ear. “You know I don’t understand a damn thing you just said.”
I smile even though he can’t see it. “Then why do you look like you’re concentrating?”
“Because you look sexy when you talk law,” he says, no hesitation. “Your voice is different, like this office voice. You pronounce everything precisely, and your focus is sharp. Makes me want to test how fast I can ruin your neat little piles.”
Heat flashes across my face. “Don’t you dare,” I whisper, but my pulse is ricocheting so hard I’m confident he can hear it.
He turns me gently so I’m facing him, my back to the desk. He braces one hand on my hip on the desktop, careful, like he’s making sure not to touch me. The other hand lifts, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, an absent, reverent touch that should not undo me the way it does.
“I like seeing you here,” I admit, low. “In my space.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” My fingers find his belt. I loop two fingers over it, letting my hand anchor there. “Feels normal.”
“What else do you want to feel right now, Adrienne?” His hand snakes behind my head, bringing me forward so that my lips are a breath from his.
I should tell him to go find Ranger, to be responsible, to stop staring at me like he’s already undressing me with his eyes. Instead, I tilt my chin that last inch.
His thumb strokes along my jaw. I sigh into his mouth.
The sigh becomes an invitation, and he takes it, deepening the kiss like there’s no rush.
But then, he steps back, barely, like he’s reminding himself we’re at my office and not a dark corner of his shop.
He rests his forehead against mine. “Ranger’s gonna come looking. ”
“I don’t care,” I whisper, pulling him back to me.
“Liar.”
“Okay. I care a little.”
“Adrienne,” Ranger’s voice booms from the hall, closer now. “You seen Scotty?”
Scotty kisses me once more before stepping toward the door. “I’ll come by later if I can.”
“Promise?” slips out before I can stop it.
His eyes flick to my mouth, then up. “I don’t say it if I don’t mean it.”
He calls just after six, my phone buzzing across the kitchen counter while I’m rifling the fridge for something to eat.
“Hey, baby.” His voice is rough with apology. “I can’t come by tonight. Miss Arthur’s Buick died in the library lot, and she refuses to leave it. Says she won’t abandon her ‘dear companion.’ I’m sorry.”
I smile because I can hear him walking while he talks, hear the squeak of the side door, and the clang of a toolbox. “Alone with Miss Arthur this late? You're brave.”
“She’s eighty-two and meaner than a bull with a burr under its tail,” he laughs. “I’ll take her any day. I just… I’m sorry about tonight.”
“It’s okay. Go save our librarian and be her hero.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Looking forward to it.”
I give up on avoiding cooking and start pulling a few, minimal ingredients from the pantry. I start a pot of rice and pull chicken from the fridge, along with seasonings and butter.
I’m checking the final temperature of the chicken when I get a text from Scotty.
Scotty: Just finished her car. Gotta head back to the shop and clean up. Probably an hour. I’m sorry again about canceling on you. Thinking about you.
I look around at my almost-done dinner and make a snap decision. I know the feeling of long, lonely nights at work and pretending a bag of Cheez-its was a suitable dinner. I fix us both a plate, grab two seltzer waters, some cutlery, and head out the door.
The open garage bay door throws a soft light onto the gravel when I pull in. Scotty stands at the wash sink, forearms wet, T-shirt clinging to his back. He turns when he hears my car, a confused smile spreading across his face.
“Adrienne?” He wipes his hands on a rag as I approach. “What are you—”
“Feeding you.” I hold up the good. “I hated the thought of you alone, either drinking your dinner or not eating at all.”
He looks from the bags to me, and something open and unguarded flashes across his face. “You did this for me?”
“Don’t look so shocked.” I walk past him to the workbench and start unloading. “I’m more than a good—” I lift my eyes, “What was the phrase you used? Oh right. ‘Good fuck.’ I can also cook.”
He winces. “I’m sorry for saying that for being a jealous idiot. I meant it how… hell, I didn’t mean it how it sounded. You’re not—” He shakes his head. “You’re a lot more than that to me.”
I let the words hang there between us, warm and honest. “Okay,” I say softly. “Apology accepted.”
His shoulders drop a notch. “Thank you.”
“Now sit and eat.” I pat the overturned bucket beside mine.
We eat with our plates balanced on our knees. He groans at the first bite.
“That good?” I laugh. “It’s just chicken and rice.”
“When you’re a man that eats a lot of stuff straight from the freezer to the oven or microwave, this is a goddamn delicacy,” he says, pointing a fork at me. “You’ve been holding out.”
He tells me about Miss Arthur refusing a ride and scolding him for tracking “garage filth” across the outside door mat at the library. “She’s got a real funny way of showing her gratitude.”
“I told you, mean as hell.” I shake my head, both of us launching into our worst memory of her as our librarian growing up. We used to joke that she always hated kids, and that’s why she decided to be a librarian so she could torture them.
He reminds me of the summer we built a treehouse, and Axel insisted on a trapdoor because he said every fort needs an escape plan, even though we told him that a trapdoor in a treehouse is more like a death door.
“I thought you were going to cry to your dad when Aiden put that ‘no girls allowed’ sign over the entrance.”
“Cry?” I scoff, “hell no, I beat his ass and made him take that sign down himself.”
We both burst into laughter at the memory. Scotty was doing his best impression of a seven-year-old Aiden crying and saying sorry as I lorded over him, demanding he take the sign down.
“You really did beat his ass.” He wipes away a tear from laughing so hard and then nudges my knee with his. “You have always been so fiercely loyal.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll always be loyal to you, us, whatever this is.”
We fall into a comfortable hush. Both of us are quietly eating our dinner. I take our empty plates and place them on the floor next to us.
“You ever think about why we never tried it before?” he asks without looking up.
“Dinner?” I bump his shoulder.
“This.” He finally meets my eyes. “You and me.”
“All the time,” I admit. “I think we were cowards. Or stubborn. Or both.”
He shakes his head, mouth slanting. “I always figured you were too good for me. Still do actually”
I let out a sigh. “Scotty.”
“I’m not fishing,” he says. “Just look at you. The degrees, the company, the… everything. And me? I barely graduated high school, and I don’t even own my own garage; I’m just the head mechanic.”
I shift my bucket closer until our knees fully brush.
“I’m not going to give you the big, you’re more than your job or your bank account speech, I don’t think there’s a point.
I know you know those things, but just so you can hear it, from me, none of that shit matters, Scotty.
I can give you a list of men’s names that have all those things I have and more and they aren’t half the man you are. ”
His eyes go a little wide in shock, and it makes me smile. “Um, damn.”
“Wow, I made Scotty speechless.”
“Seriously, thank you. You’re an amazing woman.” His hand cups my face. “I’ve always been enamored by you and intimidated by you at the same time, and I won’t lie, it’s fucking terrifying.”
“Good,” I smile at him, reaching up to mirror his hand on my face.
I lean in, kissing him gently before biting his bottom lip, “I like you a little bit scared of me.” Then, I sit back and smile sweetly before reaching for the plates.
“On that note, I should head out so you can finish up and go home.”
“Thank you for dinner,” he says, voice rough. “And for coming. It was an amazing surprise.”
“You’re welcome, I’m glad you enjoyed my company and the food.”
“Actually,” he says as I’m reaching for the plates, “why not just follow me home? We can at least have the night together. Unless you have an early morning again, I don’t mean to—
“Yes, I’d love that,” I say, suddenly feeling giddy and nervous. He smiles back at me, the same energy radiating from him.
“Good. I’ll be ready to leave here in like ten minutes.”
I help him double-check that everything is locked up and where it should be before we walk out to our cars.
“By the way, are we going to Tyler and Amelia's party thing tomorrow night?”
“We?” I look over at him, expecting him to correct himself or tell me not to read into it, but he just repeats himself.
“Yes, we, as in you and I.”
“Oh, didn’t realize we were going places together as a we…I thought this was still a hush-hush thing.”
He rolls his eyes and grabs my hoodie, tugging me closer. “Yeah, we’re a fucking we. I have to go somewhere first, run an errand, so I’ll be there later, but you’re going to the party as the other part of us. Got it?”
“Got it.” I smile against his lips as he kisses me, swatting my ass before we separate, and I follow him home.