Page 17 of If Love Had A Manual

“Okay, okay,” she cuts me off. “You’re organized. We’re going to be just fine, Wes.”

I linger.

She notices.

“Wes?” she says slowly, one brow raised. “Are you actually going to leave today, or are you planning on staying to supervise?”

She’s right.

I need to just rip off the damn Band-Aid and go.

“You’ve got my number?”

“Sure do.”

“The shop number is on the fridge if you can’t reach me.”

“Got it.”

I hesitate for one last moment. “And Lena?”

She meets my gaze. “Yeah?”

“Promise you’ll contact me if there are any issues.”

Her expression turns soft. “I promise.”

Five

The underbelly of an old Chevy isn’t the most exciting thing to stare at first thing in the morning, but it keeps my mind off Rosie.

At least until a pair of worn-out work boots step into my eyeline.

I pause, gripping my wrench.

“You actually did it?”

I let out a long exhale, already recognizing the voice dripping with judgment.

I’m not in the mood for this shit today.

Sliding out from under the car, I squint up at Connor. He’s mid-thirties and built like a linebacker.

With a groan, I push onto my feet. “Did what?”

He folds his arms across his chest and looks at me, dead serious. “You left our girl with a stranger.”

“Lena’s not a stranger.”

“Right, because you’ve known her for, what, a week?”

“It’s for the best,” a voice calls from the other side of the shop.

I glance over to see Ryan leaning against a tool cart, watching the exchange with an infuriatingly smug expression. Ryan’s the youngest of the crew. Twenty-four, quick-witted, and always looking to stir shit up.

“Rosie’s one. She could get into all kinds of danger here,” Ryan continues, tapping a wrench against his palm.

Connor is almost offended. “As if we would let her get hurt.”

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