Page 37 of It's Going to Be a Chrome Christmas
Trixie, though, shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“What happened?” he repeated. He was going to filet whoever put that unnerved look in her eyes.
Mr. Wynn cleared his throat and said he’d bring the truck down the drive. Cayden could care less about the damn truck, though he appreciated the privacy the act offered.
Cayden reached for her, but to his disbelief, she stepped back. The fuck? “Trix, what?—”
“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, nothing happened. I’m just tired, I guess. I should go.”
She turned to leave, but Cayden quickly grabbed her arm with the hand that wasn’t holding her gift. “You’re not getting away from me that easily,” he warned. “We’re both adults here. Use your words and tell me what happened.” When she started to shake her head again, Cayden cursed. “Damn it, woman. I’ve seen you naked, I’ve been inside you. There’s nothing you should be hiding from me. Tell me what happened.”
Her breath hitched, and she quickly looked over her shoulder at Mr. Wynn waiting in his truck for her on the side of the road. “Really, Cayden, everything’s fine. I’m just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek rather than his lips. That right there told him something was wrong. “Good night,” she added hastily, like she had to remember to say it.
Trapped once again in this damn house, he watched her go. Fuck, what the hell had happened?
Cayden didn’t get an answer to that question until Tuesday evening. Work had been…tense, to say the least. All of the employees skated around Trixie and Cayden like they had leprosy. Cayden could care less what they thought of him but didn’t like seeing them treat Trixie that way. Worse,shewas acting like he was patient zero of the contagion. They hadn’t kissed or touched since her quick peck on the cheek Sunday evening. She hadn’t answered any of his phone calls and had ignored all of his text messages.
Cayden was approaching his wit’s end on Tuesday evening when he heard a small sniffle coming from Geordi’s room. Concerned, Cayden knocked before entering the open door. Geordi was sitting in the far corner of the room with his arms wrapped around his legs and his head against his knees.
“Hey,” Cayden approached him. He sat down cross-legged across from Geordi. “Hey, kid, what’s wrong? Do you want me to get Mrs. Wynn?”
The man with a kid’s innocence shook his head against his arms. His shoulders shook violently, making Cayden worry. He was in the process of getting up to get Mrs. Wynn anyway when he heard Geordi say, “I think I messed up.”
Cayden sat back down. “How so?”
People were likely to assume that Geordihadmessed up, but Cayden knew that Geordi tended to think he did without actually doing so. It was little things that tended to upset Geordi, likeforgetting to rinse a plate off before putting it in the dishwasher or putting his socks in the laundry basket inside out.
“I told Ms. Trixie what you said.”
Cayden’s heart skipped a beat. That hadnotbeen what he’d expected Geordi to say. “What do you mean? What did I say when?”
Geordi raised his head, which was good because his words were no longer muffled. Tears flowed freely down Geordi’s cheeks. It was so hard to see him as anything more than a giant kid. He was almost six-feet tall, but his personality overruled his large frame. “Mr. Wynn told Mrs. Wynn tonight that Ms. Trixie was still really upset, and I know it’s my fault.”
Impatient to know what Geordi had told Trixie that he’d said, Cayden encouraged, “Geordi, tell me what you said.”
He picked at a loose string in his jeans. “I thought it was good news. I thought she’d be happy for me.”
“Geordi!” he called louder than he should. Lowering his voice, Cayden forced himself to say calmly, “I’m not mad. Just tell me what you said to her.”
He wiped his eyes. “I told Ms. Trixie that you said I could be your best man.”
Cayden’s jaw dropped. “Well, fuck.”
Chapter
Eight
Mr. Cocky Biker: Pick up your phone! Call me!
Mr. Cocky Biker: This is getting ridiculous! Just tell me what’s wrong!
Mr. Cocky Biker: Trixie, baby, please. You can’t see it, but I am on my knees begging.
Mr. Cocky Biker: Please, just call me. You wouldn’t even look at me today.
Mr. Cocky Biker: Tell me what I did or didn’t do or whatever happened. Please.
Mr. Cocky Biker: I’m starting to get pissed and I don’t want to be. If you would just TALK to me…
