breakfast together?” she asks. “That’s serious.”
“Ah, no, he just crashed on my couch for the night, and we had pancakes and bacon. Oh and sausage,” I say with a giggle when I remember the ravenous look on Lawson’s face as I taunted him with the links. The one I’m almost certain had nothing to do with a hunger for food.
“You fucked him, didn’t you?” Reagan exclaims in my ear so loudly I have to pull the phone away.
“No, I didn’t,” I correct.
“Why not? You better hurry! You only have like…three more days!”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Madam Tess said you only have seven days to seal the deal. Sunday will be the seventh. Or will it be the sixth?”
Is that what she said? Do I buy into it? That Lawson’s “the one” and all that jazz?
“Calm your tits,” I tell Reagan and smile when I hear her gasp at the horribly sexist remark. “It might happen, you know, like tonight.”
“You’re in love with him!” she squeals.
“Am not! I’ve known him all of…twelve hours,” I tell her when I do the math.
“Time doesn’t matter when you find your soulmate,” she says all breathy and dreamlike.
“Okay. I’ll admit I like him. I mean, what’s not to like? He’s gorgeous and buff, and we get along great, but we just met!” I reiterate my point.
“So?”
“So, this is real life, not a fairytale where the knight sweeps the woman off her feet five seconds after they meet and then live happily ever after. This is real life where shit happens, like knights deciding to fuck other princesses and vice versa. It’s not all rosy and perfect.”
“You have issues; and if you don’t get the hell over them, you’re gonna let this guy slip right through your fingers,” she argues.
“Anyway, I need to get back to work, and you need to return to reality, so I’ll catch up with you later, ‘kay?” I ask to try and end this conversation. Everything is new, like still in the plastic wrapping new. I can’t be thinking Lawson and I are soulmates or whatever crazy nonsense.
“Fine. Call or at least text me tonight to let me know you’re still alive,” she says with a huff.
“Will do,” I promise, before dropping the phone back into the cradle. That one is a handful sometimes.
A few minutes later my cell phone pings with a new message. I assume it’s Reagan talking more nonsense, but the text is actually from Lawson. Just seven words, and I’m officially smitten.
“Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”
…
Lawson
“How’s it going?” I ask Carly, anxious for her to hurry and get done with the maintenance test before Josie shows up. I’ve got her doing the procedures on my truck in case she royally fucks up. So far, Carly’s easily changed the oil, checked and topped off all the other fluids and put on a new air filter. Now I’m just waiting for her to check the air pressure in the tires. These are all basic things that we do routinely a dozen or more times a day. That’s what I need her for, the minor things that are easy, but seriously slow us down. Ryan, Blake and I can handle the actual real deal repair work.
On the third tire, I lose my patience. It’s five after five, so Josie will be here any minute and I don’t want any gawkers around for what I have planned for her.
“Looks great, Carly. Give Ryan your schedule, and you can start when you’re ready,” I tell her.
“Really? I’ve still got one tire to go,” she says, looking up at me with a grin from where she’s kneeling in front of my back tire. It’s eerie to see the similarities in her and her older brother. Both have jet black hair that almost looks blue in certain light and the same gray eyes.
“Yeah, you’re finished for the day, and I want to hire you,” I tell her. “But I need to warn you that while I’ll do my best to make sure assholes don’t say shit to you because you’re female, I can’t guarantee it won’t happen.”
“It’s cool,” she says.