Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1) (3 page)

Denise looks away and out toward the road, perhaps searching
for the tow truck.

“So where were you headed, if you don’t mind my asking?” I
ask.

She looks back at me. “Home. I have a big test to study for
on Monday.”

“You’re in college?” Relief spreads over me. She’s most
likely legal.

She nods. “I’m a junior at UDub. What about you?”

“Sophomore. I go there, too.” Maybe this means I’ll be seeing
her around. Get to know her.

“What are you studying?” She asks.

“Electrical Engineering. You?”

“Wow, that sounds intense. I’m Liberal Arts.”

“That’s cool. So do you work?”

“Yeah, but only part-time. I write fashion and lifestyle articles
for an online community.”

“You’re a blogger?” I raise my eyebrows, and she nods.

“If you’d call it that. But it’s fun work. And helps pay
rent.”

I’m about to ask her more about work, when a set of
headlights shines on us. I didn’t realize how dark it had gotten already. A
quick check of my phone reveals the time—7:19 p.m.—and a text notification—most
likely from Chris. I ignore the text and re-pocket the phone. Denise walks over
to meet the tow man, who gets out of a big black wrecker with spinning orange
and yellow lights on top. He scribbles something on a clipboard before handing
it to her.

“Sign here, here, and initial here,” Tow Man says, pointing.

While she’s filling out the paperwork, he gives Denise one
of those wolfish looks. I push myself off the wall and move closer to her, in
an almost protective manner. Tow Man shoots me a dirty look, but says nothing.
Finished writing, Denise hands the clipboard back to him.

“Thank you, Miss Ramsey,” he says, taking the clipboard and
returning to the truck. “Hop in and you can direct me to your car.” He opens
the passenger-side door for her and waits.

She glances back at me then turns and climbs into the truck.

I’m certainly not about to leave her alone with that guy. I
return to my bike as I watch the truck leave the parking lot and head down
the street. I follow the truck from a short distance away, keeping the
orange-yellow lights in sight. Soon, it turns down a road that is less traveled
this time of evening. The truck slows and veers off to the grassy shoulder and
in front of a white sedan. I park my bike behind the car and watch as Tow Man
gets out and begins hitching up the front of the car to the wrecker. He shoots
me another dirty look but says nothing. Denise hops out of the truck as well.
She notices me and waves. I smile and wave back.

“Where would you like your car towed, Miss Ramsey?” Tow Man
asks.

Denise brushes her fingertips over her lips as she contemplates
the now-hitched car. Then, she looks over to me and stares for a long time, as
if she is considering something. Dropping her fingers, she says, “Frank’s
Garage, please.”

Chapter 3

I lead the way to Frank’s Garage, and when I arrive, I
notice most of the lights are on and someone’s moving around inside behind the
shut glass bay door. Larry’s working overtime again. I swear, he’s the
hardest-working man I’ve ever met. Why isn’t he the boss instead of Frank?

The
tow truck stops in front of the shop. Larry pulls up the bay door just enough
to duck under. I park my bike while Denise and the tow man get out of the
truck.

Tow
Man hands Larry a clipboard, and Larry signs off on it.

As
Tow Man unhitches Denise’s car, Larry grabs my arm, and I wince. Damn, he’s got
a strong grip. He pulls me over toward the door to the office.

Larry
looks at me, bleary-eyed. “Dominick? What the hell’s all this?”

“Can’t
seem to get enough of this place, y’know?” I say, rubbing the back of my head.

Larry
simply stares. “Look, I’ve gotta finish replacing a timing belt, so—”

“Larry,
don’t be mad or anything, but this girl was having car problems, and I told her
she could bring it by here for me to look at. I think it’s the alternator. I
can probably fix it myself. I just need the shop light.”

Larry
frowns. “If Frank comes by here and sees you … ”

“I’m
just doing a favor, that’s all. Trying to be a good guy here.”

“Don’t
bullshit me, boy.”

I
sigh and look toward Denise, who is watching Tow Man secure the chains back on
the wrecker.

“Goodnight,
Miss Ramsey,” Tow Man says with a smile and flirty tone as he opens the
driver-side door.

I
clench my jaw.
Phony bastard.

Denise
smiles back at him, but unlike his fake-ass one, hers looks genuine.
“Goodnight, sir, and thank you.”

Tow
Man hops in and speeds off down the street.

A
sudden smack to the back of my head lurches me forward. “I’m talking to you,
Dominick! Don’t you fucking ignore me!”

I
turn back to Larry and stare at him. His overworked, bloodshot eyes are
glaring.
Oh shit.
The last thing I
want to do is make him angry. He used to fight Golden Gloves in his younger
days. Rubbing the back of my head, I mutter, “S-sorry, man. Got distracted
there for a minute.”

“No
shit.” Larry folds his arms over his chest. The muscles in his forearms and
biceps bulge menacingly.

I
don’t know where to look. “Yeah, so, uh … can I use a small light to work on
Denise’s car? I promise to stay out of your way, and I won’t use any shop
parts.”

“Damn
right you won’t use any shop parts,” Larry says through clenched teeth. There’s
a long pause. Then, sighing heavily, Larry uncrosses his arms and thumbs over
to bay two. “You can use the one hanging on the wall over there. The one with
the orange cord.” He walks back under bay one’s raised door and lowers it, but
doesn’t shut it completely. His head disappears under the hood of an SUV.

Smiling,
I hustle over to Denise. “Sorry about that. I just had to straighten some
things out. It’s all good now.”

Denise
tilts her head curiously. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be doing this?”

I
nod curtly. “Yeah. And if I get in trouble, well, then I get in trouble. But
Larry’s cool about keeping quiet about me working after hours. It’s not like I
get paid overtime or anything.”

“Ah
… payment. About that … ”

“Naw,
we’ll talk about that when I finish. Now, I’m gonna need you to steer while I
push your car close to the bay there. Can you do that?”

Denise
smirks. “I know how to steer a car, if you can handle the weight.”

Beautiful,
smart,
and
sassy.

I
go behind the car while she gets in. Grunting, I push it up to bay two’s closed
glass door.

Denise
pops the hood while I lift the bay door a little, grab the metal work light,
and feed its long orange cord through the bottom of the partly open door. I
almost do a double-take when I notice the transmission.
Holy shit, she drives stick? That’s hot.
First girl I’ve met who
knows how to drive one.

The
battery looks good, so I move on to the alternator.

“How
bad is it?” Denise asks. Her voice is close.

I
glance up and realize she’s standing beside me, leaning in a little. Her braids
drape over her shoulders, down to her chest, where her scoop-neck shirt reveals
a slight peek of the thin lace of her bra. I exhale slowly and feel my pants
tighten.
All right, Dom. Keep it under
control.
I clear my throat. “Uh, let’s see here … ” Hauling my attention
back to the alternator, I move the light around as best I can. I already see
problems, but hopefully it’s not as bad as I thought. “Looks like you have a
little corrosion around the connectors, and a loose wire around your
alternator. Nothing major, but that could be why you couldn’t start the car.”

“Think
you’ll be able to fix it tonight? I’m really going to need the car tomorrow to
go to a study group. Or maybe I should just take the bus instead—”

“No,”
I say quickly. “I’ll make
absolutely sure
your car is ready for tomorrow.”

“All
right. So, how much is all this going to run me?”

Scratching
the back of my head, I glance over at bay one, where Larry is still tinkering
under the hood, oblivious to us. Business is business, but technically, I’m not
on the clock, so this doesn’t really count as business, does it? I mutter,
“Don’t worry about it.”

She
blinks. “Quit playing. I can’t let you do all this for free. I mean, you work
here and all that, right?”

“Yeah,
but this is my own personal time. Favor for a friend, you know? But if you’re
gonna insist on paying me, then … how about dinner?” I bite my tongue as soon
as the words are out of my mouth. What the hell was I thinking, asking her
that?

Denise
snorts a laugh. “Dinner? As in a date?”

I
deflate a little. I’m such a fucking idiot. “Uh, no … not really. Sorry, I
was way out of line there.”

She
doesn’t reply. Just awkward silence.

Shit! I blew it! I’m
hopeless.

“How
long is this repair going to take?” she finally asks, as if she hadn’t heard
me.

I
swallow a lump in my throat and turn away, sticking my head back under the
hood. I can’t even look at her any more. “Uh … about two hours, maybe?”

“All
right. I guess I’ll go study in the meantime.” She rounds the back of the car.

I
glance in her direction, careful not to make eye contact. She opens the trunk,
and pulls out a large, tan messenger bag. “You can use the office, if you
like,” I say, pointing to the office entrance. “There’s a couch in there.”

She
slams the trunk shut. “Thanks.”

She
leaves, and I start on the repairs. My hands work practically on their own
while my mind wanders.

What the hell just happened?
Why couldn’t I have met someone like Denise before?
She’s not only physically
attractive, her intelligence and self-respect make her that much more
beautiful. And it’s clear she knows her worth.

I
exhale, stop working, and wipe at my palms. My thoughts have made them sweaty.

The
connections and wires are all repaired, and I realize two and a half hours have
flown by. I get in the car and start it up. The motor hums, and I smile.

“Yes!”
I hiss, doing a little fist-pump.

I
glance through the glass of bay one. Larry’s still hunched over the SUV,
working away. I swear, that man is a machine.

I
shut the car off then head to the office. Denise is sprawled on the couch among
a mass of papers. A thick textbook sits open beside her. She looks up from a
spiral-bound notebook in her lap, her eyes full of anticipation like an excited
puppy. “You’re finished?”

Nodding,
I dangle the keys. “Yup. Should be good to go now.”

She
beams and springs up from the couch. “Oh, thank you so much!” She scoops up her
books and papers and hastily stuffs them into her bag.

I
hold the door open, and she brushes past in a hurry, snatching the keys from my
hand. For a split second, I catch her scent.
Pear.

She
tosses the bag in the passenger seat, climbs into the driver’s side and starts
the car. “It works!”

I
grin. “’Course it does. I fixed it.”

She
gives a little hollow-sounding laugh.

Things
suddenly feel awkward. What happens now? She leaves and I never see her again?
I don’t want her money, and she
did
thank me for fixing her car, so what else would I expect?

Maybe the club. Or a movie.
Or—

“So,
dinner?” she says.

My
heart stops for a second. My mouth goes dry. I try to speak, but my voice
cracks.

Denise
smiles at my apparent idiocy.

“Dinner,”
I finally manage to mumble.

“Tomorrow?”

I
swallow again.
Oh shit! This is real!
“Y-yeah,
tomorrow’s good.”

“How
does Jade Fusion sound? We can meet there, or I can come get you, if you want.”

I
take a deep breath. This is ridiculous. I know how to do this. “No. I’ll pick
you up around seven. That okay?”

She
pauses, then nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll be waiting.” She turns and fishes through
her purse, then pulls out a small pocket notebook. She scribbles on a page then
tears it out. “Call me tomorrow when you’re about to leave,” she says, handing
the paper to me.

I
take the paper, which carries a hint of her alluring pear scent. Her name and
phone number are written on it. Her handwriting is gorgeous. “Thanks, Denise. I
will,” I say, smiling.

She
backs out of the lot and drives off.

I
sigh, watching until her taillights are gone.

I got her number! I got her
fucking number!

My
heart does flip-flops. I fold the paper in a neat square and place it in my
wallet.
Damn right, I’m gonna call you.

I
re-coil the light cord, gather the tools from the toolbox, and return them to
their proper places in the shop.

“She’s
quite a catch,” Larry says from behind me.

I
wheel around. Larry’s still under the hood. “Huh?”

“The
girl. What? You think just ’cause I’m under here that I don’t know what’s going
on?”

“I
was just doing her a favor.”

“Pretty
big favor.” Larry pulls his head out from under the hood. “Repairing
alternators ain’t easy. You charge her?”

I
frown. “No.”

His
face goes rigid. “‘No’? Look, Dominick. This is a business. Don’t do that again.”

“I
couldn’t charge her, man. I knew she didn’t have that kind of money on her.
Besides, I didn’t use any shop parts to fix it.”

“You
used these lights, didn’t you? And those tools?” Larry frowns. “Look. I won’t
say anything to Frank, but next time, you need to either treat her as a
customer, or do that shit at your own house, got it?”

I
nod once. “Yeah, man. Sure.”