“If you haven’t noticed, I’m in the middle of something,” I snap. My anger is a little forced, but he doesn’t need to know that. The last thing Reid Riggins’ arrogance needs is a helping hand.
Jennifer’s small hands press into me, leading me out of the shop. “Go to him,” she says a little teasingly, dragging her words out slowly so they ring melodramatically severe.
“Use protection, kids,” says Lauren a little bitterly.
Both Reid and I glare at her and she shrinks back a little, holding her hands up in self-defense. “I’m just saying,” she mutters. “STDs are no joke.”
Somehow I’m coaxed outside and then the door closes behind me, bells chiming faintly as it shuts. I cross my arms, trying to hold on to my anger because it’s the only thing keeping me from melting in front of him. He’s too much. Too much man. Too much handsome. Too much muscle. Being this close to him makes it all so overwhelming that I could lose my train of thought in a split second if I’m not careful.
“You drove my car back up here to give it to me? You live next door. It would have made a lot more sense to just… I don’t know, wait until I was home?”
“Maybe I just wanted to see you. You look cute in that uniform.”
“You really--” I clear my throat, blushing like an idiot and remembering to scowl. “Reid. I told you I was busy. Thanks for giving my car back, but I really need to--”
“Who said I was giving it back?” he asks. The corner of his mouth pulls up in a playful grin. “You’re going to learn how you fucked it up in the first place so I don’t have to fix it again. Get in,” he says, yanking the door open.
I find myself obeying. I’m not normally one to be easily cowed by a man, or anyone for that matter, but something in his voice broaches no disagreement or argument. He expects obedience, and there’s an undeniable power in the force of that expectation.
I wait for him to get in the driver’s seat. He turns the ignition and shifts into drive. “See this?” he says, pushing on the stick just slightly until it glides somewhere between neutral and drive.
“Yes,” I say a little hesitantly.
“This is what you’ve been doing. I don’t know how often. But you’ve been thinking the car is in drive when it is actually here. Every time you drive like this you’re grinding the shit out of your gearbox. That caused a chain reaction and started fucking everything up.”
I nod. “I understand. It uh, won’t happen again?”
He smirks. “You know, if you didn’t know how to handle a stick, you could’ve just asked. I’d be happy to let you practice with me some time.”
I shake my head, looking out the window. “You know, you’re unbelievable. How do you function in society?”
“I don’t,” he says.
I let out a surprised laugh. “I guess you’re right. I hardly see you away from that shop of yours, and when I do, you tend to leave a trail of pissed off people in your wake.”
“It’s that bad, huh?”
“I might be exaggerating. Just a little.”
He gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. “Come on,” he says, helping me out carefully, making sure he lifts me slightly to keep me out of a small puddle. “You looked busy in there. Go ahead.”
“Thanks. You can just leave the car in the parking lot.”
He laughs, already getting into the driver’s seat of my car and revving the engine. “Sweetheart, if you want your car back, you’re going to have to come by the shop and ask nicely. Maybe we can even have a repeat. I’ve never been much of a believe in the one night stand. Call me hungry, but I always go back for seconds.” He spins the tires, pulling away and leaving me in a haze of smoke.
I stomp back inside the bakery. Lauren spots me and comes up to the counter, obviously hungry for details. “You have to--”
“Not now,” I say, weaving through a few customers to get behind the counter and then to my back office. I step inside and close the door, cradling my head in my hands, trying desperately to remember more than the fuzzy images I have of the festival.
As much as I try I only see the same, confusing blur of images, none of which are good. Sweating skin moving against mine, a cock so perfect I have to be making it up, and those eyes. Those unmistakably piercing, green, smoldering eyes. They stare into mine as he…
I can’t be imagining it wrong. I guess it could have all been some alcohol induced dream, but I’ve never dreamed up something like that before. Not in my entire life. Reality creeps in on me, inch by inch. The feeling settles in my stomach, cold, hard, and unrelenting. I made a mistake. I made a mistake with Reid. Now all I can do is hope to God he was carrying a condom and thought to use it. But for some reason he doesn’t strike me as the type to think much about something practical like that, especially not when he’s hammered.
I want to close my eyes and sleep away the last dregs of this hangover, but every time I close my eyes I see flashes of memory. My hands on my thighs as my dress rides up and I grind myself into Reid on the dance floor. His hands on me. Sparkling water and naked flesh. His cock.
I shiver. Why do I have a memory of his cock? There’s no way in hell I would have slept with him, no matter what he just said before he pulled away. I try to convince myself that the slight throb between my legs is just a side effect of the hangover, and not my core trying to recover from his big, thick…
I cover my eyes with my hands and groan. I did not sleep with him. I wouldn’t do that.
I drag myself to the back office, ignoring how much the girls need my help with the midday rush for a minute to throw back three pain relievers.
My head is just hurting more and more as the day goes on, meanwhile Reid looked perfectly happy and alert. He probably even woke up early to go for a jog, hit things with his wrench, and rub grease and oil on himself. It’s almost frustrating to think about how sexy he is. Even the way he stands seems seductive. Long, lean legs planted wide, powerful torso tapered to a narrow waist, strong, muscular forearms crossed under his ripped chest. He’s just so intense. Ugh. I shake my head to get the image out, which only jostles around the ball of hangover-pain. I wince, clutching my temples and sighing.
Just knowing Reid lives so close sends a thrill through me that I can’t suppress, no matter now ill-advised it is.
Reid Riggins. Never in a million years would I have thought… He’s the antithesis of what I want in a guy. He’s brash, arrogant, rough… Rugged, hard, strong, and powerful. I shake my head, more carefully this time. Am I just falling into the trap of thinking I can fix him? That I can somehow exert my will and turn him into a well-groomed, nice boy who will open doors for me and massage my feet at night?