Now I had five shops in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, and all of them were doing fuckin’ awesome.
My mom ran the shop at the first business, though, which was by far my busiest.
“Are you even listening to me?”
I turned, having been engrossed in listening to Dima’s conversation about a new car he’d bought, and said, “What?”
“I asked if you were even listening to me,” she repeated.
“Well, considering I was listening to Dima talk about his new Cadi, no. I didn’t hear what you had to say.” I didn’t apologize.
I didn’t see a point in apologizing for something I wasn’t sorry about.
Hell, even if I was sorry about it, I didn’t apologize.
That wasn’t who I was.
She muttered something under her breath and got up to head to the bathroom.
I turned back to Dima and asked, “Is it a V6 or a V8?”
Eight
You go ahead. I’m going to dilly dally.
—Text from Silver to Aella
SILVER
He was there, with her, again.
I hated her.
I wanted her to swallow a three-pointed tortilla chip and have it slit her throat open from the inside.
I wanted to watch her bleed out and do nothing.
Hell, my luck, Webber would just give her the Heimlich and save her life and she’d be so grateful that she’d drop down to her knees and offer him the world.
He’d probably take it, too, because he was a jerk face.
A sexy jerk face.
He was wearing his standard lineup today, though he was in a cutoff shirt this time and jeans that were so damn dirty that it showed he was working right up until he came here.
He had grease smudges on his arms, a dark smudge on his face, and a backward-facing ball cap on his head.
It was covering his magnificent, wavy salt-and-pepper hair, and his eyes were alight with life.
So. Fucking. Sexy?—
I looked away quickly before he could catch me staring and my gaze clashed with Gunner’s.
“What?” I asked innocently, batting my eyes to add to the effect.
Gunner’s gaze dropped down to my chest, then went back up to my face. “Nice shirt.”
I flushed slightly.
