Page 14 of Tru Blue
“I promise,” she said over her shoulder, hoping she really could.
“I want complete details! And don’t give me any of that we didn’t do anything bullshit, because in your head, you already have. I see it in your eyes!”
Gemma headed out the front door, careful not to glance back and reveal the other sexy thoughts she was currently having.
Chapter Five
WHISKEY AUTOMOTIVE WAS located just outside of the main part of town, near the bridge that led out of Peaceful Harbor. A bridge Gemma had rarely crossed in the four years she’d lived there. She liked the comfort of the small close-knit community in the seaside town, which was so different from the exclusive gated community in which she’d grown up. Through her shop, she’d become a member of the community, with repeat clients and many friendships. The move had been a purposeful one, and it had worked out well. She might not ever be able to escape the pain of her father’s suicide, but at least she no longer had to look into the pitying expressions of those around her. She’d kept that part of her life to herself, confiding only in Crystal after one of her awful mother’s phone calls.
As the shops faded in her rearview mirror, her thoughts returned to Truman, and a thrill raced through her. Oh yeah, the guy had definitely piqued her interest in all the best ways.
She drove past Whiskey Bro’s, a shady-looking bar with motorcycles parked out front she hadn’t given much thought to until now. Was Truman a biker? A mile or two down the road she saw the Whiskey Automotive sign, and she turned down the long driveway, heading toward the building in the distance. The closer she got, the more nervous she became. What if he was just being nice and didn’t really expect her to take him up on the offer to fix her car?
What if he offered his services as a way to see me again?
Butterflies took flight in her stomach.
She parked in front of the long building. Three of the four bays were closed. Light flooded the fourth. The right side of the building served as the office, with glass windows and signs for tires, mufflers, and other automobile supplies. She hadn’t looked at their hours, and she was glad to see that someone was still there. She hoped it was Truman.
She grabbed the goody bag she’d brought for Kennedy, stepped out of the car and followed the sound of music coming from the bay, where she saw Truman with Lincoln nestled in his arms and Kennedy hanging on to his pants leg. Kennedy wore one of the pretty dresses they’d picked out last night. Gemma saw the playpen and wondered if the kids had spent the day there while he worked.
Truman reached for a backpack on the floor and turned as he hoisted it over his shoulder. Their eyes connected. Connected wasn’t nearly strong enough of a word to describe the force of his powerful gaze as it locked on hers, drawing her forward along an electric river. Lightning seared through her veins, sizzling and burning with every step. His lips curved up in a genuine smile and his sharp blue eyes raked slowly down her body, and she remembered she was still wearing the short princess dress. His grin turned lustful, and she thought she might melt right there on the spot.
“You came,” he said with what sounded like relief.
“Is that okay?” She felt her insecurities rising and thrust them down deep, refusing to overthink any part of tonight. She hadn’t felt this turned on in…ever.
Kennedy peered out from around his leg and lifted her hand beside her face in a slow, shy wave.
Gemma waved back, watching Truman lift her into his arms like she was light as a feather. The little girl put her head on his shoulder, and his smile turned slightly apologetic as he closed the distance between them. “We were just heading upstairs.”
She glanced at the door he’d motioned to.
“My apartment.” He shifted his eyes to Lincoln, who was fast asleep in his other arm.
“Oh. I’m sorry I came so late. I can bring the car by tomorrow, or…” She should have come earlier, since she was sure he hadn’t asked her to come by so he could see her again.
“Are you in a hurry?” he asked a little gruffly.
“No, but I don’t want to—”
He smirked. “Sure you do. Come on up.”
