Page 92 of Pretty Wild

Buddy alerts me to someone’s arrival before my own ears pick up the sound. I don’t bother turning around to see who it is, mostly because I don’t care. I’m certain I know exactly who it’s not.

It’s been a week since I woke up alone, and I haven’t heard from her, other than the note she left on my coffee table. I’ve wanted to reach out, just to make sure she’s okay, but I haven’t. What we shared was a fling, right? We set the parameters, and never once did we talk about more.

Until my heart got involved.

That’s exactly why I always keep it out of the equation. Unfortunately, I wasn’t expecting a prissy, high-maintenance woman to slip beneath my defenses. Between her fancy, designer shoes and her vacation wardrobe that cost more than I make in a month, I let down my guard, assuming we could have a little fun without the strings.

She perfected the sneak attack, and now I’m paying the price.

“You look like shit.”

I grunt, refusing to turn to welcome the newcomer. I keep my focus on Grandpa’s old truck, tinkering with the carburetor.Anything to keep my idle hands busy. It’s actually the first night I haven’t stayed until dark at the shop. At home, I look around and see Ryan. I expect her presence and then am sadly disappointed when I feel nothing but emptiness.

So, I work. There’ve been plenty of vehicles to fix and tow calls to go on, thanks to the busy tourist season. I’ve taken on more than my shop normally does, just to keep busy and away from home.

But tonight, I needed something different. Something that only working on my grandpa’s truck could provide. I miss him like crazy, wishing he were here to offer a bit of advice. Or maybe a shot of Jack to help mend my broken heart, because there’s no doubt in my mind that’s what I’m suffering from. What started out as a little fling turned into something bigger.

Dammit.

“You wanna talk about it?” Gabe asks, leaning against the old truck and glancing under the hood. The man’s got talent when it comes to woodworking and home remodeling projects, but if it involves an engine, he’s shit.

“Nope,” I tell him, giving the wrench a quarter turn.

“Great, then you can just listen.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. When I said I wouldn’t mind talking to my grandpa, that didn’t mean I wanted my friends all up in my business.

“Have you talked to her?” he asks. I know whichherhe’s referring to.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that wasn’t our deal.” I turn the wrench with a bit more aggression than necessary. “It was a fling, Gabe. Nothing more.”

“You sure about that?” he asks.

His words make me stop moving as anger sweeps through me. “Yes, I’m sure,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you both miserable?”

That question makes me pause. For the first time, I look up at my friend. He’s smiling, the fucker.

Sighing, I toss the wrench onto my cart and stand up straight. My back aches, thanks to being hunched over for extended periods of time today, but that pain has nothing on what I feel in my chest. “You’ve talked to her?”

“Not me, but Blair has. Hallie too. I think they all have. They became friends while she was here, and they’re wanting to keep in touch.”

I nod, happy for all of them. Especially Ryan. I got the impression she didn’t have a lot of real friends back home, so to know she’s still communicating with the ladies back here is comforting. They may not be right down the road, but they’re great people and will have her back when she needs it.

“Listen, Marcus, I’m not here to tell you what to do, but I do have a little experience in this sort of situation.”

My eyebrows shoot sky-high. “You had a summer fling with a reality TV star who was hiding out from the media and her ex-boyfriend who publicly told the world he was only dating her to get close to her father?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No.”

“That’s what I thought,” I grumble, turning my attention back to the truck.

“I have experience in letting the woman I love go because I thought that was best for all of us.”

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