Page 31 of Truck Me

“For starters, yeah!” His voice rises and his expression turns stony cold.

My anger and frustration get the best of me. The intensity of my glare is enough to cause him to fall back and lean against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest like that will somehow protect him from what’s coming.

“Newsflash, Garret.” I step forward and poke him in the chest. “Money and status aren’t the makings of a good man. I’d go as far as to say, it makes them worse. Money is no different from the makeup I put on my face. All it does is hide the flaws. But take it away, and you expose everything that’s wrong with the person. And let me tell you, some of them are nothing more than trash.”

“And you think I’m not?” He growls. “I’m not good for you. I’m not a good man.”

“Well, I guarantee you, you’re a better man than my ex.”

“Oh, yeah. How so? What makes you an expert on what kind of person I am? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough!” I yell so loudly it snaps me out of the rage swirling around inside me. I didn’t come here prepared to have my ex thrown in my face and my reaction is way too intense. Garret doesn’t understand what kind of person Brad really is.

Taking a deep breath, I rub the bridge of my nose and continue. “I know you stopped and helped me when I broke down late at night, drove me home, then went back for my car. You didn’t have to do any of that, yet you did. You’re nice to Rayne and help show her some level of normalcy when you don’t have to. And you’re fixing my car when you haven’t even bothered to tell me how much it’s going to cost. If none of that makes you a good man, then there’s no such thing and we’re all fucked.”

The tension in his shoulders relaxes. “Anyone would do those things.”

That makes me laugh. “No, Garret. No, they wouldn’t.”

He shakes his head and everything about his demeanor suggests he doesn’t believe me. “It doesn’t matter what you think. I know what I am. I am a bad person, Princess. Nothing can happen between us. Got it?”

“Kiss me or don’t. I don’t care. But do not tell me it’s because you’re a bad person. Do us both a favor and find a different excuse.”

He pushes off the counter and stalks toward me. He grabs my arm and pulls me flush against him. Every inch of his hard body engulfs mine.

And I do mean every inch.

I’ve been so focused on arguing with him that I hadn’t noticed his growing erection. But now it’s pressed against my belly, igniting a fire inside me that only he can put out.

“Make no mistake, Princess.” The deep rumble of his growl runs through me just like I wanted to feel, and oh boy, does it feel electrifying. “I want to kiss you. I want to do a hell of a lot more to you than that. But I won’t. This. Can’t. Happen.”

We hold each other’s gazes for several beats—his nostrils flaring, and my breathing labored. The desire and lust swirling around us is unmistakable. And so is his restraint. There’s something in his eyes that tells me he would still push me away if I tried to kiss him, even though he wants it as badly as I do.

“Fine.” I push him off me and back away toward the door. “Just tell me the status of my car, and then I’ll get out of your way.”

My abrupt change in subject throws him off, and he stares at me for a moment as if he doesn’t understand what I’m asking him. Then he lets out a low groan and rubs his hands over his face.

“I can rebuild the transmission. I’ve ordered a few parts, but they haven’t arrived yet.”

“How much is that going to cost?” I keep my tone neutral and businesslike.

He stares at me for a moment as if he doesn’t want to tell me. Then he sighs. “Typically, around four grand. But it’s mostly labor. So, I’ll—”

“Shit.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “That’s more than I want to spend.”

“I’ll cut you a deal. It’ll be fine.”

I narrow my eyes, completely confused by how this man responds to me. One minute he wants to kiss me, the next he’s yelling at me to leave, and now he’s offering to cut me a deal on the labor to fix my car. I don’t understand him at all.

“I can’t let you do that. I also don’t want to dip into my savings, so don’t fix it. If you’ll let me know how much it’s cost you so far, I’ll pay you for that.”

“We’ll work something out.” He insists. His voice is a little firmer this time.

“How? In case you didn’t know, I lost my high-paying job. I’m not prepared for an expense like this.”

“I said I’d cut you a deal on the labor.” He sounds just as frustrated as I feel.

I huff. “And why would you do that? You’ve made it clear how you feel about me, so why help at all?”