The news that Mr. Cooper, our beloved boss, had suffered a
heart attack had shaken up everyone at the shop. It hadn’t been a major one, but it had been severe enough that his doctors had insisted that he take his time coming back. That he rested. That he manage his stress levels better.
Lydia had been kind enough to call me soon after I’d left the hospital
—in the process asking why I hadn’t waited for her—and then kept me up to date on how he was doing. The next day, I went to visit him again just as Grandpa Gus was leaving the hospital.
“You saved me, honey,” my boss had whispered when I’d made it over to his bed the day after his heart attack.
I had reached out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as I smiled down at the lined, still too pale face, trying not to think about what could have happened to him if it hadn’t been a minor attack. I’d made the mistake of reading that heart disease was the leading cause of deaths in the country. “All I did was give you an aspirin,” I told him, trying my best to ignore the sting of pain when I thought about the things he had kept from me for so long.
“You told me to buy a new bottle of aspirin when the last one had expired, do you remember? You insisted I get aspirin, ‘just in case, Mr. C,’” he tried to argue in his weaker-than-usual voice, giving my hand another squeeze.
I had been thinking about him specifically when I’d insisted he buy more aspirin. When he first told me he had high blood pressure, I had done a little research, not that I ever brought that up. But he mattered to me, and I wanted to make sure to take care of him any way I could so that he wouldn’t get worse. Because that was what you did when you cared about people. “Well, I’m glad you listened,” I told him.
The smile he gave me in return, as he laid in the hospital bed, was weak. “I don’t know when I’ll get back to the shop.”
The first thing I thought of was Ripley.
“You’ll hold down the fort for me until then, won’t you?” he asked.
Emotion had clogged my throat as I looked down at him, and it was my turn to give his hand a squeeze. “I’d hold down the world for you, if you want me to, Mr. C. Don’t worry about the shop. We’ll all be fine.”
I specifically didn’t let myself think about Ripley and what Mr.
Cooper being gone would mean for the rest of us.
The day had been hard enough as it was. Tense and awkward and even a little charged weren’t good descriptions about how all of us had been. All of us minus Rip, who I hadn’t spoken to, made eye contact with or even been in the same room as. Over time, all of my coworkers had filtered into my room to ask about our favorite boss.
Well, besides Jason, who hadn’t shown up for work, and who I’d bet never would again. But I didn’t give a single crap about that twerp anymore anyway. I could get his address like that. But luckily for him, all that seemed unimportant compared to Mr. C’s heart attack. And if I had to choose between kicking his butt or my cousin’s, I would always choose my cousin. Always.
This man I loved and loved me back, gave me a gentle, warm smile that further put things into perspective for me. Life was too short to hang yourself up loving someone who would never love you back, I finally saw that clearly now. “I know you would, Luna,” Mr. Cooper told me. Then he sighed, and his eyes narrowed a little and he said, “I’m sorry about Jason. You have no idea—”
Oh, hell. We were back to him. “Don’t worry about him or my cousin. It’s fine,” I tried to assure him, even giving him a smile so he would know I wasn’t saying it for the sake of it. “It’s not the first time my cousin has tried to jump me, but it’ll be the last.”
Miguel had made sure to tell me they had made it clear whatever they had done or said had settled things. I hadn’t asked for specifics because that had been good enough for me.
Hopefully he would give my message to my dad so he would know too that I wasn’t screwing around. I knew enough to get him into trouble still, and if I didn’t, I would have no problem digging up what would. Because going that far wasn’t out of the realm of possibility if they tried to do something again, and he had to be smart enough to realize that.
“It’s not fine, but I am sorry,” the older man argued. His eyes slid in the direction of where Lydia was sitting before coming back to me. His
throat bobbed softly, and he let out another deep sigh. “There are some things I want to tell you… some things I should have told you before….” He trailed off, the expression he was making almost like he was trying to tell me something.
He was confirming it, wasn’t he?
He was trying to tell me that he really was Rip’s father and they had kept the secret to themselves.
He hadn’t lied. Not technically. He just hadn’t… told me or anyone else the truth.
The man who had worked with us for the last three years was his son. A son from the wife he’d had before the one a few feet away from us. A son from the same woman he had told me was, or had been, the love of his life.
And that son happened to be the man who he couldn’t talk to for two minutes without getting into an argument with.
The same one who had made it real clear twenty-four hours ago that he held me in the same regard as just about everyone else who had ever really hurt me did.
Man, that didn’t feel nice to think about.
“I’ll come and see you tomorrow,” I promised, giving him a smile of reassurance so he would know that if I had put things together, I was fine with what he had kept from me.
I wasn’t. Not totally.
But I wouldn’t hold it against him. He had his reasons. He had to. And I would just deal with the small sense of betrayal I felt from this not-a-lie until then.
I wasn’t feeling up to adding another person to my list.
“I’ll come to your house to see you after you’re out of here too,” I kept going, barely holding on to that thread inside of me that decided not to be hurt. “I’ll have to keep you up to date on the shop gossip, huh?”
Mr. Cooper’s gaze searched mine, and after a moment, he tipped his chin down just enough for it to count as him agreeing. But whether or not it had anything to do with him agreeing he needed to hear what was going on at the shop was a different story. We were both well aware of the giant elephant in the room looming over us. There are some things I want to tell you… some things I should have told you before…
Because right then—and I had a feeling that it wasn’t just going to be in that moment or the next, or the one after that—I knew I wouldn’t care enough to get the full story.
My heart honestly just didn’t give a crap anymore.
My heart had been broken, stomped on, and moved to dust just yesterday, and like the other times the same thing had happened, I knew I could regrow it. That was my other superpower. I would make myself always come back from the dumps.
Because that was exactly where Rip had left me to wallow.
I had told him once I didn’t sulk, at least not for long, and I wasn’t about to start for him. It was easier to forget and ignore than it was to hold on to things that hurt.
Before Mr. Cooper or I got a chance to say another word, there had been a knock at the door before it opened a crack and then fully. I knew instantly who was coming in before I actually saw the stained work boots and the white compression shirt that was just long enough to go over the stained blue jeans the new hospital room visitor was wearing.
I knew it was Ripley.
And that was why I slipped my hand out of Mr. Cooper’s and bent over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I should get going. Call me if either one of you need anything. I’m sure my boss won’t have a problem with me sneaking out of the shop for a little bit if I have to,” I said, trying to sound as chipper as freaking possible.
Mr. Cooper’s head was already tilted in the direction of the door when he said, “Thank you, little moon,” in the same tone he spoke to me every time Rip was around. With a little less affection. With a little more distance.
I had always thought he just didn’t want to make him mad or make him feel like he was playing favorites, but I could see now that it was for other reasons that I wasn’t totally sure I understood. To not make him jealous? To not rub in our relationship and how well we got along?
I didn’t know, and it honestly wasn’t my business to find out. Not anymore. Not ever from the beginning apparently.
“You too, Lydia,” I told her before bending over to give her a kiss on the cheek too, watching as her eyes settled on the man I could hear walking into the room.
Her eyes shifted to me, but her smile was as brittle and tired as her nod. “Thank you, honey. I’ll give you a call soon.”
I nodded and took a step back. “Rest, Mr. C. I’ll come check on you tomorrow.”
I got a “drive safe” and a “take care” from them just as I turned to walk out, but I couldn’t miss the strain in their voices as they said it.
Sure enough, by that time, a figure a head taller than me and a lot wider, stopped right at my side.
I wanted to pretend he wasn’t there, but I wouldn’t.
It wasn’t his fault I had started to believe he genuinely gave a shit about me. I could handle his moods at work. I could handle his secrecy. But making me feel dumb, pushing me away, those things I couldn’t.
It was my fault for thinking things had been changing between us.
For being desperate and clingy. It was my fault.
Instead, I looked right up at my other boss and said, pretty freaking calmly and coolly, “Hi, Mr. Ripley.”
He had already been looking down at me. His face, that mask I never knew what to think of. It was that same mask that I tried to replicate, just for a moment, because that was how long I stood there before saying “Bye” over my shoulder to all three of them.
My chest hurt only a little as I left the hospital, and like so many other things, I squashed it down into an even smaller hurt and threw it away.
I was loved, and I had everything. I wasn’t happy then, but I would be again.
My chest had only continued hurting just a little every time I saw Rip at the shop.
The very first day, three days after our conversation in the waiting room, I’d had to find him to ask about some vague details on an order. He’d been on the main shop floor, pulling out upholstery inside a 1970- ish Ford Bronco. I had only stood in my room for maybe one minute trying to pump myself up to talk to him the way I envisioned I could and would in my head.
Like he hadn’t hurt my feelings.
Like he hadn’t been mean and cold and cruel.
I could do it, I had told myself.
I didn’t play games, and I wasn’t about to start then.
So in that minute, I got myself together and headed over.
“Mr. Ripley?” I called out, a little smug with myself for keeping my voice under control.
He had instantly stopped was he was doing, crouched in place just outside of the SUV.
I didn’t wait around to stop right beside him and thrust the invoice between us. “I was about to place an order, but I wanted to confirm what you marked off and scribbled in. There weren’t any notes added into the computer. You want the color you wrote, correct?”
Correct. Man, I was good.
Rip watched me silently, passively, for a moment before taking the sheet and looking it over.
I let myself take in his features, even though I shouldn’t have. There were bags under his eyes and serious tension at the corners of them as he read his scribbles. I bit the inside of my cheek as he glanced at me, all cool detachment, and said, “It’s right.”
I didn’t give him the smile I usually passed around. I had just nodded at him and, just as quickly, said, “Thank you” before I headed back.
And when he had come into my room a few hours later to take a look at a hood I had done that morning, all I had done was tell him “Hi” and then gone straight back to work taping. Just like he wasn’t there. Just like I should have done since he was my boss and I was his employee.
And if anger had ridden through my veins, leaving me hot and tense for a couple of minutes, I ignored it.
I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t hurt. I was fine. I was always going to be fine.
And that’s what I was from then on.
I went to see Lily one weekend with Lenny. Another weekend, we had game night at Grandpa Gus’s place. I did some overtime but not much. I went to the gym, had one okay date that didn’t rock my socks off. I chugged along. I made it.
It had been two weeks, and the shop was surviving. I wasn’t sure who was doing payroll, but I was an employee, so I wasn’t going to worry about it. That’s what Rip was for. The only extra thing I had taken upon myself was ordering things for the break room and charging them to the shop’s account, but that was it.
Things were all right. Everyone at the shop was doing fine. From what I overheard from the rest of the guys during lunch and in bits and pieces when we’d happen to be in the break room at the same time, or they would come to my room to move something or pick something up, they told me about how much more short-tempered Rip was being, and how annoying it was when he was the only one they could ask questions to.
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t agree or disagree. I just patted them on the back or would try to make them laugh.
I wasn’t going to talk bad about him.
In that time, Mr. Cooper and I still hadn’t gotten a chance to talk. I had gone to visit him every other day at his home after he’d been released and brought him food and movies from the Redbox closest to his place, but he hadn’t told me much of anything.
It might have been because Lydia had never been far away.
If I had thought months ago that I would have a hard time cutting someone I saw on a regular basis out of my life, I would have been mistaken. I had forgotten how easy it was.
I had a feeling that was mostly because I hadn’t been able to get Rip’s words out of my head. I had them memorized. Or pretty close to it. Leave me alone, he had said to me in that waiting room.
I’d stopped pining for people who didn’t treat me as well as I treated them as a kid. I had promised myself back then that I would never fall for that crap again, and in a life where I had failed myself a dozen times, that one oath had been the only one I managed to uphold.
It was why I had no problem making my coffee and ignoring Rip when I walked downstairs and toward my room.
He wanted coffee? He could get it his own self. He wanted me to leave him alone? Sure thing. I wasn’t going to beg anyone for their time, their love, or attention. I definitely wouldn’t beg for friendship or company either.
Not anymore.
So when I had a dream about two weeks into Mr. Cooper’s recuperation about my dad again—a dream that was an exact replica of the night before I had left San Antonio for good—I was upset and irritated like I couldn’t even begin to explain. It didn’t help that my nape had itched and burned from the moment I had woken up. Or that it reminded me of having a very similar dream with Rip in the bed with me not long ago. A night when he’d pulled me close….
Even a busy morning at work and the entire Hairspray soundtrack hadn’t made me able to shake off the restlessness brewing under my skin.
When lunch came and I went upstairs and found the room full, I grabbed my food from the fridge—taco casserole that was dry and just weird— warmed it up, and decided I was going to do myself and my coworkers a favor and go somewhere else where I could be in a bad mood. It wasn’t because of Ripley either. He hadn’t bothered looking up when I had walked into the room. If that didn’t say enough about how things were between us, I didn’t know what else could.
So I took my food and ate it on one of the chairs set up around the back of the shop where the guys took smoke breaks. It was Northside Houston, warm and always humid, but in the shade, with a decent breeze, a lack of bugs, and away from the worst of the street pollution closer to the entrance of the shop, it was… fine.
Honestly, it was kind of relaxing, even if I was just around the corner from where my cousin had backhanded me. But I didn’t have a scab or a scar on my face, and I wasn’t going to focus on that dipshit. Not when he’d done similar things to me as a kid when I had been walking home from school.
Rudy was nobody. My dad was nobody. And nobodies didn’t hurt anyone.
I was fine. I had a job. I was loved.
Mr. Cooper was going to make a full recovery.
Lily was happy, healthy, and making lots of tip money.
Thea and Kyra were both alive, but I only knew that because Lily confirmed it.
My dad hadn’t called again.
Jason had never come back to work.
I was safe. I had a roof over my head and food to eat. I had so much. Not everything was perfect—and I hated how resentful I felt toward my sisters—but it was better than most people had it.
That’s what I kept telling myself as I sat there, all by myself.
About twenty minutes into my lunch, I shoved the hems of my sweatpants up to just above my knees and stretched my pale legs out in front of me to catch a little bit of sun.
When I had ten minutes left on my break, I packed up my things and headed back inside. I didn’t look around to see who was on the main shop floor before going up the stairs, but when I got to the break room and found it empty except for two of the body guys—and Rip—I made sure to smile at both of them.
When I accidentally shifted my gaze over just enough to meet Rip’s eyes, I didn’t let the smile slip from my face.
I wasn’t going to give him my hurt. I was going to treat him the way he wanted me to months ago. Like he was my boss. Like he hadn’t dug a space into my life and then decided he didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.
Like he hadn’t told me those three freaking words.
But when I met his eyes, keeping the smile on my face, those teal- colored eyes bounced all over my face, lingering on the star necklace that had fallen out from where I’d tucked it under my shirt.
It lasted for a second.
Because I looked away and toward the fridge, keeping my gaze on that as I passed by the three men so I could put the rest of my almost- gross casserole away.
“Luna, what’d you eat for lunch?” one of the guys asked as I set my bag back inside.
I closed it with the back of my hand as I said, “Casserole. It tastes like butthole, but if you don’t have taste buds, you can have the rest.”
They didn’t sound that interested, but I filled my water bottle from the filter and left the room only saying “see ya” to the two I was on speaking terms with.
I got back to my room and finished taping the car I was set to start priming that afternoon. I was going over my notes for it, triple checking the paint color on the invoice with the number on the label when the door opened. I didn’t look up after I heard the first two steps taken inside. Only one person walked that heavily.
“Do you need me to do something?” I called out before he got too far
in.
The footsteps kept coming and so did his voice. “I wanted to double-
check something on the SS,” Ripley answered immediately.
I didn’t pinch my lips together or make a face. I stood up and immediately handed over the clipboard with the notes I was holding. He was already standing beside me. I kept my eyes on the board as he took it, those long fingers flipping to the page I had just been reading.
Then I took a step back and headed into the booth to look around and make sure all the taping was correct, even though I knew it was.
Rip didn’t immediately say anything; I managed to make it halfway around the car before he called out from somewhere outside the booth, “I’m done.”
I didn’t get why he didn’t just look up the order on the computer, but I wasn’t going to waste my time even wondering.
The petty part of me almost wanted to ignore him, but I didn’t. I wasn’t going to give him even that. So I called out in return, “Okay.”
When I headed back out to the main room and didn’t find him there, I was relieved.
I really was.
The next day, I was in the middle of waiting for our machine to
finish agitating the paint I was about to start using on a late model Audi A4 when the door to my room opened. A big figure headed inside, letting the door close behind him.
I knew who it was.
I was going to be the bigger person, so I made myself ask, “What can I do for you?”
Rip waited until he’d taken a few more steps inside the room before saying, “I wanted to check the wheels that were on your list this morning.”
When had he looked at my schedule?
But I didn’t ask. Instead I made sure to meet his eyes briefly—really briefly. His face was that usual mask of tightness and control, and I sucked it in and spit it right back out, then gestured toward my right where I had moved the wheels an hour ago. Out of my peripheral vision, I watched him move to them, those long legs eating up the room that usually felt massive for me. Then I focused back on the machine, hoping it would hurry up and finish its cycle so I could move on with my next project before lunch.
Rip was quiet, and I purposely moved to give him my back.
The cycle finished before he got done inspecting my work, and I headed toward the booth to transfer the paint.
When I headed back into the main room to put on my protective suit, he was still there, this time looking through one of the paint catalogues I had sitting on the counter. If he looked over at me, I honestly had no idea. I kept my eyes straight forward, on the wall across the room. He didn’t say a word to me as I changed into my sneakers first, then stepped into my suit and zipped it up, and he didn’t reply as I headed into the booth and called out over my shoulder, “Knock if you need me.”
I closed myself in my room, and at some point later, when I glanced over at one of the only windows in the white room, I found Rip standing there, looking in.
I focused back on the panels that needed my attention.
When I took my lunch break later on, I went outside again. Just like the day before, when I headed back to the break room to drop off my bag and leftovers in the fridge, Rip was sitting there, eating something made with chicken and leafing through a magazine. We made eye contact, and I only broke it when I got too close and had to open the fridge.
Then I took myself back downstairs.
The next morning, well after nine in the morning, once all the
shop guys were there, I made my way to the main floor to ask them to help me move what we called the rotisserie—an engine block was mounted to it—from the main floor into the booth. We had set it up the day before, but it was too heavy for me to move it by myself or with just one other person.
Was it on purpose that I headed straight toward Owen and Ashton to help me roll the rotisserie into the paint room? It sure was. But I kept my head held high and a smile on my face as I moved between the cars parked on the floor and made my way to the two men who were always really nice to me.
“Hey,” I said as I came up to them.
Ashton, who was the one standing, immediately tipped his chin up and flashed me a warm smile. “Hey, Luna.”
Beneath the car, Owen called out, “Need help with the rotisserie?” There was a reason why Owen was one of my favorite guys at CCC.
“Yes,” I answered, stopping right beside Ashton to take a peek at what he was looking at. There was a spot of something dark and liquid-like on the floor beside where Owen was lying, looking up with a wrench in his hand. “Would you guys help me roll it out when you get a chance, please?”
“Five minutes?” Owen asked.
I nodded at him from where I was standing looking down at him. “Thanks. I’ll meet you in my room then whenever you’re both ready,” I told them.
The new guy nodded.
Keeping my gaze locked on the cars on the floor as I made my path back to my room, I could see Rip turning down the same hallway I was heading to, but he ducked into the bathroom instead. Back inside my room, I went through the booth one more time to make sure everything was where it needed to be. Soon enough, I heard the door open and slam closed. Figuring it was them, I headed back out and almost completely stopped walking when I found Rip standing there with his hands on his hips.
“Need help moving something?” he asked as he wiped his hands on a rag, those intense eyes on me.
I couldn’t help but slide my gaze toward the door for a split second before aiming them back toward his face and saying, “I already asked the guys for help.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched.
I made myself stop looking at it. “They said they’d be about five minutes,” I finished, glancing toward the door one more time.
Rip’s nose wrinkled for a moment before he shoved his rag into one of the pockets of his coveralls and said carefully, “You didn’t ask me.”
I blinked. “Ask you?” For permission? “For help,” he clarified, his voice tight.
Oh. “I figured you would tell them to help me.” I kept my voice even, calm, controlled. “It’s what you always do.” Then I couldn’t help it as I glanced toward the door one more time. “I didn’t want to waste your time when I can ask myself.”
His nose wrinkled again right around the time I said the middle sentence, and it didn’t go anywhere as I spoke. What I did notice was the way he crossed his arms over his chest, that gaze still locked on mine like he had no intention of moving it elsewhere. He tipped his chin back, giving me a good view of his long and strong neck. “What have I told you about wasting my time?” he asked in that same voice.
The skin along my spine instantly prickled, and I couldn’t help but feel this tiny stab of pain right in my heart. Indignation. That would have been the perfect word to describe how I felt right then.
That and betrayal. And anger.
But mostly indignation.
I didn’t let myself get riled up as I said, “I don’t want to assume anything, Mr. Ripley.”
Okay, maybe the Mr. Ripley part was a little petty, but I wasn’t going to beat myself up over it.
When I glanced at Ripley’s face as I said the words, and watched the way the entire length of his jawline went tight, it didn’t make me feel any better. It made me feel like crap. I wasn’t trying to make him feel bad. I didn’t want that from him.
I didn’t want anything from him.
So I got myself back on track. “You have better things to do with your time. You have enough going on right now with Mr. Cooper being gone.” His dad. Not just Mr. Cooper. His dad.
He didn’t say a word. This massive man just stood there, watching
me.
I kept going, my voice even… maybe a little monotone. “If there’s an
issue, I’ll let you know, of course.” Rip still didn’t respond.
Sliding my gaze toward the door, I willed it to open and Ashton and Owen to be there, ready to help.
But nothing happened. The story of my life.
“I appreciate you checking though, but we can move it on our own, I think,” I finished, keeping my voice the same businesslike way I would have used on any other boss I would have, except Mr. Cooper—and Rip if this had been months ago.
But this was what he wanted, and this was what I would give him.
So when he took four long steps toward me, stopping the exact moment the tips of his boots met mine, his hand nudging my chin upward, I held my breath. Because Rip was right there. In my space. Forcing me to look at him.
And look at him I did.
I looked at the tattoos peeking out from just above the hem of the slight turtleneck coverage his compression shirt gave him. Took in the tiny dark shapes just above the hem. I took in the very faint stubble across the underside of his chin and over the lower half of his face. I took in that almost thin pink mouth pulled into a line at the angry expression he was shooting my way.
And I took in the way his eyes seemed to be blazing down at me. Like he either wanted to yell at me or something else.
I didn’t know what that “something else” was, but from the line of his jaw, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Rip’s chin tipped down lower, drawing his face even closer to mine. “Can we be done with this?” he asked, his voice rough and so low I could barely hear him.
I held my breath. “With what?”
That incredibly handsome face stayed remote, but those eyes… “With the Mister Ripley shit. With that tone. With you not wanting to talk to me or ask me for fucking help.” That chin dipped, and I’d swear I could feel his breath on my face in tiny puffs. “With you freezing me out.”
I wanted to raise my eyebrows, but I didn’t. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I only partially lied. Because it couldn’t be a complete lie when I didn’t understand why he would be saying these things to me when he was the one who had asked for them.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Luna,” Rip replied, his voice still this low hum I almost had to strain my ears to hear.
The tips of his boots edged over mine even more.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t freaking matter.
“You are Mister Ripley,” I said, still wound tight. “I’m talking to you like I would anyone that was my boss, with professionalism, because that’s what I should have been showing you from the very beginning.”
This hoarse sound escaped his throat, sounding almost like a… grumble? A growl?
“I’m not going to bother you when I can handle things myself.”
His boots tapped into mine so roughly, it scooted my own boots back a half inch.
“I’m just treating you the way I always should have,” I cut myself off before adding another “Mister Ripley” to the end. Something inside of me said it would be a terrible idea, like baiting a starving lion or something. “You’re my boss, and I shouldn’t have forgotten that.”
I could have sworn his neck swelled bigger and bigger with each word that came out of my mouth. His face might have gotten redder too.
But when had his face gotten red in the first place?
The hand on my chin drew my face up even higher, until I almost strained with the pressure, with the stretch. Then I could definitely feel his soft breathing on my face. On my mouth. I could feel the heat of his body along the front of mine. A month ago, this would have made my freaking year. A week ago, it would have made me want to swoon.
But now…
Now I forced all that crap down and away. I buried it with a shovel and a half ton of dirt. Gone. Gone, gone, gone.
He had asked for it, and I had given everything I’d been willing to part with for too long.
Only an idiot kept giving after a certain point, and I was no one’s fool. No one’s punching bag. No one’s temporary entertainment.
I had given him more than I had another person ever, and he’d burned that bridge between us once and for all. He had told me the same thing that other people had: leave me alone.
“I’m only doing what you asked,” I told him slowly, each word drawn out, syllable by syllable. I kept my gaze on his for a heartbeat, and then two, and then drew it back down to his chin as I let myself take a breath through my nose.
Then I took a step back. Then another.
“I appreciate you coming to check and see if I need help, but I don’t. Ashton and Owen are coming,” I explained to him. “Anything I can handle on my own, I’ll do. But thank you, Mr. Ripley.”
Mr. Ripley didn’t move an inch.
Then he opened that mouth and said, “We need to—”
And I would thank a God I wasn’t sure I believed in for the fact that the door opened in that exact same moment and Owen said, “Sorry about that, Luna. Let’s move the rotisserie—Oh.” He stopped there. He looked from one of us to the other, eyes widening as the new guy came in right behind him.
I smiled at my coworkers and took a step toward them. “I’m ready if you two are.”
Determined as hell to keep my distance from my boss, I grabbed
my lunch for the third day in a row and headed to the chairs and table in the parking lot of CCC.
It was another hot day, not that it wasn’t a hot day every freaking day in Houston, but under the shade, it wasn’t too unbearable. Since there weren’t any bugs either, it was about as good as I was going to get. Fresh air. Some open space.
I should have been coming out here years ago. Which reminded me…
I picked up my phone and dialed the same number I had every day for a week now.
It rang.
Rolling up my pant legs and the sleeves of my T-shirt up to my shoulders, I held the phone between my ear and shoulder, taking in the continued rings. I stretched my legs out to get some sun and slouched in the chair as I pulled my lunch out of my bag. I’d barely opened my container of three-day-old casserole disaster, when the door leading outside opened and a familiar figure in a long-sleeved shirt that clung to every single muscle on his chest and dark jeans made his way over.
I didn’t narrow my eyes, but I did watch him a little too carefully. What did he want now? I wondered as Thea’s voice mail picked up. “Thea, it’s Luna again. I hope you’re okay and you’ll call me back,
all right?” I said, trying not to sound mad or sad before ending the call.
Picking up my fork from inside my bag, I stabbed at the mush of rice and ground beef, making sure to focus on it and not the man making his way toward me. I managed to poke my fork through something that looked a little too brown and even got it into my mouth before the big man walked in front of me.
He didn’t say a word, and neither did I as he went to the chair on the other side of the table and pulled it forward until it lined up with the one I was in.
I watched him as he set his glass container on the table between us and took a seat.
Just as I was about to ask if there was something I could do for him, I stopped myself. I was on my lunch break. I didn’t have to do anything then.
And he had his lunch, same as me. So…
I just didn’t understand why he was out here too all of a sudden.
I kept my curiosity to myself and made sure to look away from him as I chewed my food and brought my phone onto my thigh.
Whatever he was doing out here… it was none of my business.
The light pop of the lid coming off his food filled the air between us, punctuated by the occasional sound of him chewing or taking sips of whatever he was drinking.
Me on the other hand, I sat there and sucked back my can of Sprite and ate my casserole while I started looking up prices for television screens.
When my lunch hour was almost up, when there was sweat at the base of my neck and lower back from the heat, and when the skin on my legs was tight from too much sun, then I got up.
Neither one of us said anything as I walked away.
