“How come?”
“I don’t know. We had fun, but he’s just not really my usual type.”
I shrug. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“We’ll see,” they murmur before dragging their gaze behind me. “Food’s here.”
Briggs steps into the office, the mouthwatering aroma filling the space. Ash gets up and walks over to the vending machine, bringing back three bottles of Coke—one for each of us—and we dig in. It tastes so fucking good, all of us so hungry, we scarf everything down without a single peep of conversation. It isn’t until I finish off the last taco that I notice Segan finally sent me a response.
Segan: Yeah, okay. That sounds good. See you tonight.
My chest swells, and a smile lifts my lips. Now to figure out what to bring, and hope the night turns out as good as I hope.
* * *
Drivingdown the long gravel road to Segan’s house, my stomach is in my throat. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not my first time hanging out with him, nor is it my first time at his house, but… it feels monumental. Like something about tonight will change the trajectory of whatever this is between us. And I hope it’s for the better.
It’s just after seven. I’m a little later than I anticipated, but work kept me more than busy until well after the shop closed. I’m thankful for the business, especially since when taking on a new venture, it can sometimes take some time before you’re in the black. But fuck, after the week I’ve had, I’m ready for a little bit of rest. And it’s only Wednesday. Still got two more days of this before the weekend.
I park my bike in front of Segan’s house, climbing off. The food I brought for dinner is in the right saddlebag, so I grab it out as I hear the front screen door open. Glancing up at the porch, Segan’s standing there in a pair of mint green board shorts, a white V-neck t-shirt, and a black baseball cap turned backwards. He’s barefoot, leaning his shoulder against a wooden post with his arms folded over his chest as he watches me approach him.
He looks stunning, and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him look.
“Hey,” I murmur as I climb the couple of steps to get up top.
“Howdy.” He’s wearing a smirk, and he doesn’t move as I get closer. Once I reach the top step, we’re barely a few inches apart. His sage greens hold my gaze for a moment before he adds, shocking the hell out of me, “This look”—he gestures up and down my body with his fingers—“really does it for me.”
“What—coveralls, oil stains, and sweat?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “It’s sexy as fuck.”
My eyes dip down to his mouth for a moment, long enough to watch his tempting pink tongue drag across his full lips. “Good to know.” I can’t help the grin that slides onto my face. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” is all he says before he turns and walks back into the house, leaving me to follow him, and suddenly, I’m starving too, but in a completely different way.
Segan leads me into the kitchen. He reaches into the cupboard above the sink and pulls down a couple of plates. “Augustine isn’t home right now, but we can put his in the fridge.”
I’m happier than I should be, knowing I don’t have to share Segan’s attention with anybody else tonight. Or, at least for now. “Sounds good,” I reply, setting the bag of food down on the counter. “I had planned to stop and get something a little nicer, but work was insane today, and I barely got out of there in time. So, I picked up some burgers and fries from Dave’s. Hope that’s okay.”
“More than okay,” he mutters with a smirk. “I love that place. What do you want to drink? I got Coke, Sprite, beer, water. I think I might even have some lemonade.”
“Water’s fine. Thank you.”
Segan nods, grabbing two bottles out of the fridge as I take the to-go containers out of the bag and begin dishing up the food onto the plates. Grabbing a plate, he tips his chin toward the back door. “Let’s go eat out there.”
His backyard is truly incredible. It’s not the first time I’m seeing it, but I’m no less in awe than I was before. What seems like miles of perfectly maintained green grass, tall, luscious trees, and a crystal-clear pool complete the space. Segan’s got a couple of hammocks set up down there too. I picture him lying in one, writing a song, or maybe playing it on his guitar. My stomach flutters as I try to picture me in the one beside him, reading a book—or pretending to—while I listen to him sing along to the tune he made up in his head, loving the raspy sound of his voice and the way the lyrics roll off his tongue like aged whiskey.
I both love and hate how easy it is for me to picture this domesticated scene in my mind.
“So, work was busy today, huh?” Segan asks, pulling me from my far-fetched fantasy.
I nod. “Yeah, we’re down a mechanic, which makes it worse.”
“Are you liking it here? Your new shop?”
“I am,” I reply honestly. “It’s much different than Nevada. The people are nicer here.” I chuckle, and so does Segan.
He takes a hearty bite of his burger, and I have to peel my eyes away. Something as mundane as chewing shouldn’t turn me on, but the way his jaw works and the way his Adam’s apple dips when he swallows has me wanting to do something crazy, like lean over and nip at the flesh on his throat.
