Page 57 of Saving the Last Heir
“Yeah,” Shyanne said, grinning at me. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” I said, warmth spreading through me.
“Are you good now?” Shyanne asked Mariposa.
The girl nodded, continuing with her pizza and swiping at her computer screen. “All good. Thank you, Shyanne.”
“Just let me know if you need anything. Is your mom going to pick you up, or are you gonna walk home?”
“I’ll walk,” she said.
As Shyanne patted the girl gently on the head, I could see the care she showed the child. It all tied into her love of her neighborhood and the way she did so much for others—even if it was to her detriment. That was why she was so adamant about helping me save my sister. This woman cared deeply for people. It was just who shewas.
That fact erased all doubt. I’d never met a woman who’d entranced me so totally and completely. I was falling for her.
12
SHYANNE
“She’s done,” I said, grinning at Jackson.
“Seriously?” His eyes widened as he walked over to peer through the window into the paint room.
Mariposa had gone home an hour before, and Reggie had gone in to check if the clear coat was drying right. It was on its way, and would be perfect by morning.
“Yup. No flaking, no haziness, and smooth as Carlo’s bald head,” I said.
“Hey! I shave it, okay? I didn’t go bald. This is by choice,” Carlo shouted from the other side of the garage.
“That’s what they all say,” Brent said.
“Hey,pendejo, at least I don’t have to shave my balls to make my stuff look bigger.”
I sighed, feeling more like a mother to a bunch of misbehaving boys than a boss. “Guys, please?—”
“That’s not why I shave down there,” Brent retorted. “It’s because I like the way it feels when?—”
“Okay!” I shouted, forcing the men to stop. “That’s about all the dick talk I can take for the day. Are we done?” The last thing I needed was a mental image of whatever Brent was going to say.
“We’re done, boss,” Brent said.
“Good. Let’s close up,” I said, and clapped my hands.
They started cleaning up and putting away tools. While they worked and I tried to sweep up, Jackson stepped over and took my arm gently.
“Do you have a second?” he said, keeping his voice low.
“Uh…sure.” I put the broom aside, and followed him to the corner away from the team.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No. Nothing,” he said. “Would you like to grab a drink with me? Tonight, I mean. Sort of a celebration for getting everything done.”
Like a date? I thought, the idea sending a pleasant shiver of delight up my spine. I could imagine us sitting together in a darkly lit room. The dozen or so mini fantasies I’d had over the last few days flitted through my mind, and I had to shove them away.
Then I noticed the smears of black oil going up my arms almost to my elbows, and groaned inwardly.
“That actually sounds wonderful,” I said. “I’mgross, though. Can we meet in, like, an hour? Give me time to head home and shower and get ready?”
