“Hold on. What the fuck? Is that a smile?” Trig asks, pointing the impactwrench at me.
I don’t move a muscle except for the ones that control my eyeballs to meet his smartass gaze. “What the hell are you looking at? I’m not paying you to stand around and make shit up.”
“I don’t know. That defensive tone raises suspicion.” Carson leans against the fender of a Honda, inspecting his hand.
“Maybe it was a spasm. I get those sometimes.” Wind opens and closes his mouth, working his jaw.
“Nah, I saw it. It was like catching sight of the white flag going 200 miles per hour.” Trig taps his index finger to his temple. “Quick as lightning, but I caught it.”
“My ass. The only thing you’re gonna catch is the sidewall if you’re not careful.” I push away from the workbench.
Trig makes a noise like I’m ridiculous, but I’ve seen him race his motorcycle. Although he’s diligent and smart, it can be dangerous.
Carson curses again, and I stroll over. “Want some help?”
“Well, aren’t you in the giving mood?” He grumbles, attempting to stretch the serpentine belt again.
I hear a snort. “Seems he’s turned over a new leaf. Been more than helpful lately.” Wind runs a hand over his shaggy beard, amusement oozing from him.
“Yeah, next thing we know, he’ll be scheduling free safety checks and handing out lollipops.” Trig tries to withhold a smile.
These assholes like to give me shit, but they’d do everything I’m doing and more. Every lousy one of them. It’s why they’re still working here despite how much of a pain in the ass they are.
“Grocery shopping together is pretty intimate,” Carson adds. “What’s next, picking out furniture?”
I don’t even have to see his face to know a smirk is riding across his mouth.
I’ve never grocery shopped with anyone other than Krissy, and I can’t argue with Carson’s statement. There’s something about wandering the aisles with someone and having them witness the items you pull from the shelves that feels invasive.
As I followed Sarah, I watched her carefully evaluate and select items. At first, I wanted to roll my eyes and was tempted to ask her if she was going to Google every item and ingredient, but then I saw it. Something so familiar it socked me in the stomach. It happened so fast that I could’ve missed it.
Oliver held up a bag of tiny oranges and asked if he could get them. As he dropped them in the cart and returned to swinging off the end, Sarah casually removed a bag of Starbucks coffee grounds and placed it back on the display.
A memory flashed in my mind of my mother doing the same thing when money was tight. Krissy and I begged for the big box of brand-named cereal or the Lunchables that every other kid brought to school. But it was the first time I watched her pay with food stamps that returned clear as day. She slid them from her pocket and quickly handed them over, hoping no one would see.
Shame filled my belly at the flashback. I was fifteen and I’d waited for her by the entrance, fearful of anyone from school running into us. I was just a stupid kid with no idea of the kind of strength it took for her to do whatever she needed to take care of us, and that was before I learned she was sick.
“It wasn’t like that.” I grab a wrench and lean over the fender. “Krissy offered for me to take her. Besides, you tell me how she’d get two kids and groceries on and off a bus.”
Carson releases the tensioner. “So, you wouldn’t have taken them if Krissy hadn’t offered?”
The door slams closed with a bang. “Taken who where?” It’s that deep, forceful tone, and my shoulders slump.
We all turn to the stocky old man, strolling toward us.
I took this shop over from Cal, but the man doesn’t leave us be for too long. He said he spent too many years worried about this place to see it go under.
Cal has always given me more shit than I’ve ever known what to do with. I suspect he misses this place, but I think it’s more that he likes to be sure we aren’t getting into mischief without him.
“Which of you dimwits has done what now?” He stands beside me, surveying the guys.
Carson clears his throat as Wind’s gaze drops to the floor, but Trig squares his shoulders, raises his arm, and points his skinny ass finger directly at me.
Cal shifts his weight to the other foot and swivels so slowly to peer up at me. His arms cross over his chest as one bushy gray eyebrow raises in complete delight to join this roast fest.
The complete silence where there’s typically mayhem makes my neck break out in an itchy sweat. The last thing I need is Cal’s solid, sound advice wrapped in thick sarcasm that challenges me to think about Sarah in all the ways I don’t want to.
“Slade went grocery shopping with a woman,” Carson says plainly.
