Page 57 of Lemon Crush

I barely knew the woman she’d become, but she was still a part of so many of my favorite memories. Late-night conversations over cookie dough and cable shows we weren’t supposed to be watching. Geeking out over books and boys. The homemade horror movie the Rettas and Hudsons made together one random Friday night, because we had a video camera and Wade’s friend Kingston was fascinated by my mother’s job. (Spoiler alert: I was the killer. I “murdered” everyone with a giant can of minestrone soup while singing the jingle from that old soup commercial,Mmm-mmm good.)

Who’d told her not to bother me?

She gifted me with a genuine smile, the one that always transformed her from striking to stunning. “While you consider your options, I made you a late lunch. Take an hour to get off your feet.”

My stomach growled at the thought of realfood. I’d been living on canned ravioli and stale chips for days, and everything on the grill smelled amazing.

“Thanks.” I took the bags she handed me with a questioning look. “I don’t think I can eat all of this.”

“Dalton is here having a late lunch, but Wade’s still stuck in the garage because his other mechanics couldn’t make it in. I was hoping you’d cross the street and make sure he eats something too. Seeing as how he saved your life and all.” Her drawl was more pronounced as she teased me. “At least, from the way Lucy tells it.”

“It’s all true,” I told her, my stomach fluttering again. “I had no idea how heroic your brother could look in a headlamp.”

She laughed. “He does love his manly accessories.”

I grabbed a couple of root beers out of the cooler to go with lunch before heading for the garage across the street. A horn honked when I didn’t move quickly enough over the sweltering crosswalk, and I tried to pick up the pace, but my feet wanted to drag. I’d already slain one dragon today. Did I really have to face this one so soon?

You’ve wanted to talk to him for days. Don’t chicken out now.

It had taken years to perfect my ability to avoid things and people, and now I was trying to quit cold turkey? What would I even say?“Hey Wade, want to stop ignoring me and jump into a more comfortable bed together? Naked?”

Two of the overhead doors were open, so I bypassed the office entrance and went straight into the garage. Like the icehouse, it was equipped with strategically placed fans that made the air feel a good twenty degrees cooler, and I sighed in instant relief.

This place hadn’t changed much either. The original owner had framed in one end of the large steel building, adding a front desk/waiting area, an office and a restroom, plus the small apartment upstairs. When Wade bought the garage, he’d framed half the area above all four service bays to create storage for parts,tires, tools and equipment. The addition had been expensive but necessary if he wanted to keep up with and compete with the dealerships.

I looked around at the cars in various states of repair. An older sedan hovered above me on a lift, and a newer-looking SUV with its hood up was connected to some kind of diagnostic computer, but nobody was working on either of them.

I could imagine Wade in here, bent over to show off that fine ass as he diagnosed my car’s problem and offered me a special kind of payment plan.

Stop perving and give the man his food.

I crouched down to peer under the nearest car, looking for a pair of familiar size-thirteen boots. “Wade?”

13

WADE

“Damn it, Bernie,”I muttered as I scrubbed the worst of the dirt and grease off my hands at the utility sink.

She’d called to say she was sending August over with a late lunch for me in a few minutes and hung up before I had a chance to ask why. Dalton was there now—she could have sent it back with him. Since she hadn’t and she was a natural born shit-stirrer, it made me think that August was pissed at being railroaded into working without warning, and Bernie thought a lunchtime confrontation might be funny.

This day kept getting better.

I’d done more than drop August into a post-hurricane circus, which by all accounts she was handling like a pro. I’d also been steering clear of her for the last day or so—for both our sakes. I was genuinely up to my neck in fires to put out, but I’d also needed time to think about everything that had happened that night. To rework my plan, sincea friendly, helpful neighbordidn’t usually admit to staying away from a woman for years because he wanted her.

Because it made you sound obsessed and might scare her?

Maybe a little.

But she hadn’t been that scared, and she’d let me in too. More than she’d planned to, at any rate. All I’d known about her writing up to that point was that she hadn’t had a release out that I could purchase in a while, and Morgan was worried. Now I’d seen how much she’d been struggling with it, and blaming herself for things she had no control over. Knowing her sister and mine like I did, I was astonished neither one of them had dragged her out, whether she was reluctant or not, to go dancing or to one of those wine-and-painting parties they took each other to whenever one of them was in a funk. Maybe they didn’t realize how much better she was doing now.

That night, in the dark, I’d told her about Cody and the race. I might have shared more, but then I was touching her, and she was enjoying it. If Lucy hadn’t shown up when he did, I might not have been able to stop myself from taking more. She’d wanted me to take more. I could see it, plain as day.

But hehadshown up, so I’d spent the night caught between heaven and hell, offering her a job instead of pulling her into my arms, too aware that clothes weren’t the only obstacles still between us. There were years of distance. Our family complications. My tendency to hold back and hers to rabbit and run away. She wasn’t ready for what I wanted. I didn’t know if she’d ever be.

She wanted you to kiss her. Wrapped her legs around you. That’s not nothing.

Feeling the time crunch, I dried my hands, dropped the towels in the trash and pushed open the connecting door to the small waiting area before ducking into my office. There was a high-top table under the window across from my desk, but it was covered with catalogues, car magazines, and stray parts, so I swept it all into piles on the back stools. If August and I were going to talk, I wanted to do it in private, without my desk between us.

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