Page 74 of Grease Monkey
“Okay, okay.” Shay laughs. “Always so dramatic, Morgs.”
“Not in the slightest. He hates me, Shay. Full-on wants-to-see-me-dead-and-buried hates me.”
“I highly doubt that, but whatever,” she snorts. “What did he look like?”
“Painstakingly beautiful. He looks the exact same, only not.”
“You don’t…” She clears her throat. “You don’t still have feelings for him?”
I splutter out a cough. “What? No. That’s absurd. I’m engaged.”
Did my body react to him like it never has to Richard?Yes.
Did I want to feel the scratch of his beard on my lips while we kissed?Yes.
Did I want to cry and beg and come clean about why I broke up with him and pray he forgives me?Yes.
But that doesn’t mean I havefeelingsfor him. It means I’m a deluded moron, and the next four months will kill me. I know it.
Chapter Thirty
Teddy
Ozzy’s fingers waggle through the doorway to the office as he waves goodbye on his way out until he spins around, planting his hands on either side of the doorjamb and leaning forward.
“You ordered that part yet?”
I nudge my bottom drawer closed, hiding the new cylinder for Morgana’s car inside. “Nah, it’s out of stock.”
He frowns. “You sure? I’ve never had an issue with our supplier and their stock before. Maybe try—”
“They’re out of stock, Oz. It’s fine. It’s not like she can’t afford the Uber fare for a couple of weeks.”
“Uh-huh.”
He gives me a knowing stare.
“What?”
“Nothing. You seem chill for someone who could have rampaged like Mad Max a week ago.”
I tilt my chair back and link my hands behind my head with a relaxed grin I know is the picture of calm serenity. “Yeah, well, maybe I got some perspective and decided that it’s time to let bygones be bygones. Might have also fucked a yoga teacher andZennedmy stress away.”
He drops his head toward the ground and laughs. “Only you.”
Notonly me. Because instead of doing just that, I spent the last week thinking of ways to make Morgana suffer while she’s here instead of not giving a flying fuck that she’s back in my life and carrying on with my playboy ways, because, well… fuck her. Nope, apparently now I’m acting like a teenage girl with a grudge a mile long, and if she thinks we can go on our merry way and try to avoid each other, then she’s got another think coming. When Morganadumpedme by text—not that I’m bitter or anything—she destroyed anything good inside. I might be giving her too much credit. Maybe over the years I’ve been stewing on something that happened a lifetime ago and making it worse than it is. And yes, to some, my hatred toward poor,innocentMorgana Adler might seem a tad severe, but as it turns out, I have a bit of a vindictive side.
The first thing I decided was to hit her bank balance. Even though any cabs or Ubers would most likely be expensed, it still produces a devious smirk because submitting expenses can be a bitch. But thinking of ways to hit her where it would really hurt has caused more of a problem. My issues with the bitch aside, Morgana is actually a… nice—groan—person. She’d do anything for those she loves. A chronic people pleaser, unlike me, a quality that was one of her best while simultaneously being her worst.
My fingers curl around the bill of my cap, making the headband tighten painfully around my head, squashing down any form of sentiment or this weirdflutterthat hits my gut hard. I must have eaten bad sushi a week ago because my stomach won’t fucking settle.
The newly installed bell above the side door jingles—a requirement Ozzy enforced, and I can’t say I mind. If it stops me from being caught off guard by the She Devil’s arrival, that suits me fine. I kick my feet from under my desk, the wheels of my chair sliding back, and I get up with a long exhale. Let’s get this shit done.
“Morgana,” I clip, leaning against the open office door, eyeing that tight as fuck pantsuit she’s wearing, the material clinging to every curve like it was painted on. Why does she still have to look so damn good after all these years? I shift, standing to my full height with a frown as the rogue thought floats around my head. Then she whirls around, her eyes dropping to my open coveralls and taking in my shirtless chest. It was hot as balls today and wearing a shirt just sucked, and a chest covered in motor oil doesn’t bother me. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.
Fuuuuck, she still does that.
“I never got to say it before, but this”—she waves her arm out, turning her back to me, and I quickly palm my dick, squashing the fucker down as it also noticed that little lip bite—“is amazing, Teddy. What you’ve built… I can’t believe you did it.”
