Page 3 of His Build
He turned to Brady. “I said to wait where you were.”
Graydon had a few inches of height over Brady, and probably fifty pounds on him too. But Brady was thick across the chest and belly, and tried to push forward. Graydon planted his hand on the shorter man’s chest and took a step forward himself, forcing Brady to stumble backwards.
“Get your hands off of me!” Brady barked.
Graydon felt the flush of an old anger in his cheeks. Brady had been an ass his whole life. They used to get into it in middle school until Graydon sprouted six inches the summer before ninth grade, going from a skinny shrimp of a kid to the full 6’3” and 210 pounds he more or less hovered at today. That was the summer of the accident, when Graydon had sprouted a mean, braided scar along his jaw and a burning fury in his chest that Brady, not a smart kid generally, had been wise enough to back away from.
“Or what?” Graydon said. It wasn’t the best thing to say, but he was pissed. Going after this woman for the littlest tap to his truck’s oversized backside?
Thiswoman in particular?
Just thinking of her sitting there behind him distracted Graydon enough to melt the edges of his anger. He had to close his hands into fists to keep himself from forgetting Brady altogether and turning back to her.
Brady swallowed, then folded his beefy arms over each other once more. He leaned around Graydon. “Why don’t we ask the lady what she thinks the bumper of my truck’s worth? She dinged it up pretty good.”
Graydon craned his neck to peer at Brady’s bumper. There wasn’t a scratch on it. “Looks fine to me.”
“No way! She hit it hard. My hula girl almost got unstuck from my dash.”
Graydon had to keep himself from slapping his own forehead and was just opening his mouth when he felt the car door bump into his backside. He was so surprised he stumbled into Brady.
“Watch it,” Brady said, pushing him off.
The woman stepped out of her car, slamming it behind her. She looked like an old-timey ginger pin-up girl. Curvy as hell. Mad as hell, too.
She stalked around the two men standing in stunned silence and bent over the back of Brady’s truck.
Graydon swallowed hard at the pale length of freckled skin curving up her shorts. Brady lifted his chin and Graydon wondered if he might have the decency to be embarrassed about those ridiculous rubber ’nads dangling from the back of his truck.
The woman turned around, her red hair swishing at her shoulders. “I apologize for running into you,” she said to Brady, the low song of her voice run through with steel. “But there doesn’t appear to be any damage, and I think we’d all like to move along.” She unsnapped the shiny black wallet clutched in her hand and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill, thrusting it at Brady. “For your hula girl. And whatever else might have been a casualty.” She glanced at the rubber testicles with undisguised disdain.
Brady stood there looking like he didn’t know whether to take the money or keep being an ass.
“You don’t have to do that,” Graydon said, but the woman shook her head, her eyes flickering with anger. Graydon knew better than to argue with a look like that. When Brady still didn’t move, Graydon took the bill and slapped it into Brady’s palm.
The woman stalked by them. “Now if you’ll kindly move your truck I’d like to carry on to my destination.” She got back in her car, slamming the door after her.
Brady rubbed the bill between his fingers as if he was checking to see if it was real. He pinched his lips. “This won’t cover my bumper—”
“There’s nothing wrong with your goddamned bumper,” Graydon hissed. “You just got yourself a free fifty bucks. Get the hell out of here while you’re still ahead, Brady.”
Brady walked over to his bumper and rubbed a thumb along the chrome. “Can’t you see this dent? It’ll cost at least two hundred bucks to get this knocked back out.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Graydon strode over to Brady and snatched the bill. “I’m giving this back.”
Brady’s mouth fell open, and he grabbed the money back again, then stomped off to his truck.
Graydon had to bite his cheek to resist laughing.
When Brady had squealed off, he turned back to the woman in the SUV. She was wrapping and unwrapping her fingers around her steering wheel.
She still looked pissed.
Graydon came back around the side of her car, but before he could open his mouth, she said, “I could have dealt with that myself.”
He was taken aback, then flooded with embarrassment.
You idiot. Not everyone needs a knight in shining armor.
