Page 43 of Townshipped
“I guess?” I say, as more of a question than a statement. “In that condition, it’s worth between a hundred fifty and two hundred thousand.”
“How do you …?”
Aiden doesn’t finish his question. The driver of the Shelby reaches over and manually rolls down his passenger window.
Aiden lowers his window and props his forearm on the door so his elbow sticks out the opening.
The driver shouts across to Aiden, “Were you actually attempting to come into town without stopping by to see me? You can’t hide her forever, you know.”
Aiden smirks.
If I thought I’d seen all the versions of this man, today has been eye-opening. I’d like to peel back the layers of Aiden and be as comfortably acquainted with him as the people of this town seem to be.
No. I want to know him better than any of them. Something strangely possessive rises up in me.
“I’m Duke,” the driver of the muscle car shouts over to me.
So this is Duke—as insteal the road sign,one of the three teen boys with occasional toes over the lineDuke.
“I’m Em,” I answer. “Nice to meet you.”
Duke has tousled sandy-blond hair and a rugged face. His body looks like he doesn’t sit around much. Maybe he does some sort of physical work. Duke’s not bulky like someone who obsesses over lifting weights. His muscles are tight and defined, carved. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he smiles at Aiden and me.
“Likewise,” he says in a deep, rumbly voice. He smiles widely and it feels like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
Duke’s attractive, but I don’t feel anything for him. Nothing like what I feel when my gaze shifts to Aiden.
“I’m this knucklehead’s closest friend,” Duke continues. “We’ve known one another since before we can remember. Since he was in diapers,” he adds with a chuckle and a tip of his chin in Aiden’s direction. “So, if you need the dirt on him, you know where to come ask.”
“Good to know,” I say with a smile.
Aiden shoots me a look that I feel from my scalp to the tips of my toes. My body hums with the awareness of him right now. Is he jealous?
I shift my attention back to Duke.
“So, Duke. What is it you do here in Bordeaux?”
“I’m the local grease monkey.”
Aiden rotates to face me, still having barely acknowledged this man who claims to be his best friend. “His family owns the garage. Satterson’s. Duke could dismantle and reassemble pretty much any car out there. He rebuilt his Shelby from the engine out. Got it from a farmer who had it sitting on his property since the early seventies. You appraised it accurately, though.”
“Impressive,” I say toward Duke, speaking across Aiden from my side of the car.
Aiden rolls his eyes, and I don’t hate the reaction I’m getting from him. Not at all.
“She appraised my car?” Duke asks.
Aiden nods.
“Beautiful and into cars. Well. Well.”
I think I blush. I feel the tingling heat creeping across my cheeks. Aiden’s hand rubs the steering wheel. He exchanges a look with Duke. I’m pretty sure Duke is just messing around to get a rise out of Aiden.
“So, I’m coming to dinner,” Duke announces, breaking eye contact with Aiden and looking back at me. “I heard you don’t need to rest anymore. I had been keeping a distance even though I understand half the town’s been out to visit. I’ll make my way out there tonight or tomorrow.”
“Tell me when you’re coming so we can plan around it,” Aiden says.
“Plan to be away or home?”
