Page 6 of Sweet Girl

“Then why haven’t you?” I ask, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

We both look down at her palm gripping my black shirt in a fist. She’s been free to go for minutes now, yet she’s still standing here, suspended in this moment with me.Fuck, this girl.

She jerks her hand back as if it were burned, stepping away to put much-needed space between us. I miss the close proximity immediately.

Emma moves quickly to get to her car, but I step into her path, stopping her retreat from me, not ready for this little moment to end.

“Move out of my way. Didn’t your parents teach you manners?”

I squint at her, my head cocking to the side, but I don’t flinch from her words. Everyone in town knows that my parents were abusive pieces of shit that died in a house fire. What they don’t know is that I was the one who started it with them inside. They didn’t suffer—at least I don’t think they did, not that I care either way. They were too drugged out to even notice the place going up in flames.

“Shit, Cruz, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Angel, no harm, no foul. My family is at Knockout and that’s all that matters to me. I’ll meet you there.”

I move to walk away, heading toward my 1969 Chevy Nova that my boys and I rebuilt together over several years. It’s still a piece of shit, rusted all over, but it has good bones.

I only care about three things in this shit world. Dom, Aidan, and my car. Everything else be damned. Even if this blonde little minx is starting to chip away at my icy exterior and occupying space in my mind.And has been for months.

I kill some time by lighting up another smoke, pulling a deep drag into my lungs, relishing the instant relief the hit gives me. It takes less than two minutes before Emma slams her car door, the sound reverberating through the air.

“Motherfucks!” she yells and my lips twitch into a satisfied smirk.

I watch as she pops up the hood and leans in, looking everything over as if she’s a mechanic. The thought of her in coveralls with nothing underneath, grease on her face, and hair pulled up stirs up some fantasy in my head. My cock swells against my tight denim jeans, pushing the metal of my piercing painfully against the zipper, only turning me on further.

I take a few measured steps in her direction.

“Problem, miss?”

She jerks upright, her head banging against the hood, hands flying up to clutch the spot she hit.

“Fuck! Cruz! Don’t sneak up on me like that. Jesus!”

Batting her hands away, I grab the sides of her face to pull her close to me.

“What are you doing, dammit?” she says as she struggles to get out of my hold, hands grasping my wrists to pull me away.

“Making sure you aren’t bleeding, you pain in the ass. Hold still.”

She settles after a moment, and I release her face, threading my fingers through her hair to check for a wound, coming up empty, thankfully. I’d feel like shit if I returned her to Dom cut and bleeding.

“You’ll live. Car won’t start?” I ask, playing stupid.

“It won’t turnover at all. Completely dead.”

“I’ll call my guys and get it towed to the shop for you so I can take a look later. We’re not jumping it out here while we freeze our asses off.”

Her shoulders sag in relief.

“Looks like I’m riding with you to work.”

“If you ask nicely.”

My lips twitch as I take in her frustrated features, her hip dips to the side as her hand rests on it with a little attitude. Biting my bottom lip, trying to hold back the toothy smile that wants to consume me, I wait for her to do as she’s told.

“Cruz, can I please get a ride with you to Knockout? It would mean a lot to me.”

“Good girl, angel. Now get your ass in the car,” I say as I slam the hood of her bug closed. I pull her gym bag and purse from the back seat and jog to my Chevy to find Emma already sitting in the passenger seat. Her perfect blonde hair and expensive clothes are such a contrast against the torn leather seats. It’s the first time I’ve had a girl in here, and for a moment, my cold, dead heart beats rapidly in my chest, my lungs seizing. She’s too good for me.

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