Page 33 of Because I Liked A Boy
It’s stupid. Reckless. The kind of thought that ruined Ruby last night. The kind of thought that will ruin me too if I’m not careful.
Ruby nudges me with her head, her voice low. “At least we’ve got each other, right?”
I squeeze her hand tighter, grounding us both. “Yeah. Always.” And for now, that has to be enough.
Unwanted Attention
Ruby is still muttering curses when we pull up to the garage, wedged between a row of tired brick buildings and a kebab shop that reeks of last night’s regret. Hunter kills the engine, his jaw tight like he is bracing for impact.
Ruby does not wait. The second her boots hit pavement, she is marching across the forecourt like she owns it. I hesitate, nerves chewing at me, until Hunter shoots me a look that says move and pushes his door open.
Inside, the place is alive with noise. The shriek of drills. The hiss of compressors. A radio pounding from somewhere between toolboxes and spare tires. The air is thick with oil and sweat. Men glance up, curiosity flickering before they clock Hunter. Spines straighten. Respect shifts the room.
Theo is at the far end, bent over the hood of a BMW. His head snaps up when Ruby barrels toward him. His face freezes. She does not give him a chance to speak, just jabs a finger at his chest, voice low and lethal. His expression drains, then hardens. With a swipe of his rag, he jerks his head toward the office. Ruby follows and the door slams behind them.
And just like that, it is me. Alone. In Hunter’s world.
The second the office door shuts, I feel it. The shift. Every pair of eyes in the place turns and settles on me like I have wandered onto the wrong stage.The stares are subtle at first, then sharper. A whistle cuts through the clatter of tools. Someone mutters something I cannot make out, but the smirk says enough. Another guy leans back against a workbench, his gaze lazy and arrogant, crawling over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
Heat creeps up my neck. I hate this. The exposure. The way it strips me down in front of strangers. My throat tightens and I try to pretend it does not matter.
“Hey.” Hunter’s voice slices through the noise. Not raised. Does not need to be. Just sharp enough to cut. “Knock it off.”
Silence is instant. Smirks vanish. The guy who whistled finds the floor very interesting.
Hunter does not look at them again. He steps closer and slides into my space like a shield, the faint smell of oil and cedar grounding me. His arm brushes mine, not quite a touch but enough to remind me he is there.
“Ignore them, Princess,” he murmurs, eyes still fixed on the office door. “Grease monkeys think they are funny.”
My chest twists, because it should not matter. Because it does.
Then his gaze flicks back to me. “You know you never signed the paperwork for that car, right? Technically it is still open in our system.”
I blink, surprised he remembers. “That was seven months ago.”
“Exactly.” His brow arches.
I swallow and tug at the hem of my shorts. “I was not avoiding the car. I was avoiding coming back here.”
His eyes narrow slightly, curious, but I answer before he can ask. “Last time I came, Millie was here. Practically advertising herself across the counter. I figured I would rather risk dodgy paperwork than deal with that again.”
Hunter’s mouth curves, sharp but not amused. “Guess I should have known.”
“Known what?”
“That you were jealous.” His grin spreads slow and wicked, like he is enjoying this too much. “Back then. First day. You did not even know me and you still hated the thought of Millie throwing herself at me.”
I cross my arms, glare sharp. “I was not jealous.”
His grin deepens, smug and unbothered. “You were. Admit it, Princess. You could not stand the idea of me giving Millie five seconds of attention.”
My pulse trips, but I force a scoff. “Do not flatter yourself. I did not even like you back then.”
“Funny, because I liked you. Even when you pretended not to notice me.”
I snort. “You were impossible to miss. Loud. Cocky. Covered in grease.”
“Sexy as hell,” he says, smirk tugging.
