He ignores my question and rolls the jack over. “I’m not sure we’ve ever worked nights before.”
I grab the jack stands, hearing the amusement in his tone. “Your ass can go to the gym if you’re going to read into this.”
He places the jack behind the front passenger tire. “I was just thinking you need to hire another mechanic if we’re working nights.But now that you bring it up, it does seem like this particular job might be getting special treatment.”
I kick a stand in his direction. “I’m thinking about hiring someone.”
He pumps the jack while I set the other stands by each wheel. “So, us being here and your more-than-usual shitty attitude today has nothing to do with the beautiful woman you’ve been escorting to work, grocery shopping with, and then delivering cookies to in the morning?”
I already want to ram my head into the side panel. “Do you all have anything else to do besides message each other about what I’m doing?”
He shrugs. “No, man. We don’t. You know that.”
I should have told him to go to the gym. I need silence where I cannot think and just get this done. All sorts of feelings are starting to emerge, and I’m not sure what to make of any of them. All I know is I don’t want to talk about it.
“Did Krissy ask you to go through the townhouse and apartment she’s deciding between?” I’m turning this nosey shit off.
He moves the jack in front of the rear wheel. “No.”
“I told her to ask you to go with her to get your thoughts.”
Carson’s family owns a home construction business, and he knows as much about building houses as he does about fixing automobiles, maybe more.
He places the stand under the pinch weld. “I haven’t heard from her.”
I turn the tables, shoving a little of my discomfort in his direction. “Are you taking time off for Thanksgiving to go home?”
“No.”
Funny, all amusement has evaporated from his tone.
We work silently, removing the broken bearing and installing the new one.
“Let’s leave it up, and I’ll have Wind put the new brakes and rotors on first thing,” I say, putting my tools back in my chest.
Carson wipes his hands on a shop rag. “Is finishing this job going to make you less temperamental?”
I groan.
“Don’t get me wrong. You’re kind of an asshole all the time, but a moderately pretty one with a good heart.”
If Carson thinks we’re going to get deep and sentimental, he’s got another thing coming.
“You know, just because you return her car doesn’t mean you can’t see her anymore. You could man up and ask her out.” He just keeps pushing, so I push back.
“When was the last time you’ve been on a date?”
“I don’t date. It’s a waste of fucking time.” He pulls his work gloves from his back pocket and tosses them in his tool chest. “I know what I want. Until then, I’m keeping things simple.”
I roll the jack to the wall and turn toward him. “Sounds like we have the same philosophy.”
He unzips his coveralls. “Nah. See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He points at me. “You pretend you don’t want a life outside of this. Someone to go home to and love. A family.” He pulls his arms out of the sleeves and stops. “I want all of that. I’m just waiting for her.”
I glare at him and his bravery in pointing out what might possibly be true.
He steps out of his coveralls. “You do a good job of pushing people away. Maybe it’d be ok not to push away someone you actually want to stick around.”
He smiles that pretty boy smile, and I want to punch it off his face.
