Page 15 of Timber's Girl
I opt for the second choice since it’s still early in the evening, and things are actually going well between us. As he drives, I return to our previous topic. “You were in Everton for a Reaper’s Revamp delivery?”
“Yep, the customer needed it for a car show this afternoon but a last minute errand took longer than expected, so he couldn’t pick it up himself.”
“How did you get involved with classic car restorations? Weren’t you in the military like the rest of the MC guys?”
He thinks about his answer before replying, an edge to his voice. “My uncle kept a ‘69 Chevy Camaro locked in the garage. It didn’t run and had a shit paint job from his amateur attempt to restore it. I always wanted to fix the car myself and use it to escape, but the bastard was damn particular about that vehicle. It’s the one thing he cared about other than booze.”
“So, I read a ton of car manuals,” he flashes a wry grin my way, “Riveting stuff, I tell you, and memorized a lot of knowledge. During my service, I put some of that to use. We didn’t haveclassic cars but some of those military-issued jeeps and trucks were old as fuck. Everything snowballed into Reaper’s Revamp once I hooked up with the Reaper’s Wolves MC.”
“Wow, impressive, though I’m sorry about your uncle. He sounds like an asshole.” Men like that are all too familiar. “I’ve never been handy with cars. I’ve probably been suckered into spending thousands more than necessary whenever a mechanic says I need something fixed.”
“Not anymore,” Timber growls. “If you run into car trouble or even if you just need an oil change, let me know. No one’s going to take advantage of you again.”
I resist the urge to fidget in my seat. His solemn promise has me feeling some sort of way because sincerity rings through every word.
Timber parks outside of an abandoned building at the edge of town. It doesn't look like much with its broken windows and boarded up entrances. In fact, it looks like a place where people are murdered and dumped.
Club Rust 2.0.
"Come on, don't be afraid. It'll be worth it, I promise." Timber holds his hand out for me, a hopefulness clinging to his expression. "I swear you'll be safe. You have nothing to worry about."
“If you say so…” A hesitant chuckle masks my sudden nerves.
It’s not that I distrust Timber. He’s done nothing to set off alarm bells in my head or heart. Nothing in the entire fourteen months I’ve known him.
But this building is still fucking creepy.
I place my cold hand into his warm, rough palm, and he gives it an encouraging squeeze before leading me inside. We climb concrete stairs, overstepping trash and fallen debris until we reach the top, and Timber lets go to peek out the door.
I’m not sure what he’s checking for, but he must see it because he leans back in and tells me to close my eyes.
"Trust me.”
I feel like Jasmine being led by Aladdin.
It worked out for her, didn’t it?
Sighing, my lashes slowly slide shut.
Timber takes both of my hands and guides me until, by the sound of things, we’re outside again. His body shifts behind me, and a frisson of fear snaps to attention before I squash it.
He’s not going to hurt me.
Before my brain can launch a full-scale rebuttal to that belief, his whispered breath ghosts over the back of my head.
“Open your eyes.”
They widen at the sight before me. The sun is setting over Suitor’s Crossing, peeking through the mountains guarding its western side. The pink and orange colors wash everything in a soft, flattering light, and this building has the perfect vantage point for it all.
"How'd you know about this place?" I ask in awe. Clearly, the warehouse’s dilapidated demeanor dissuades visitors—it practically shoutsStay out!—yet Timber ignored the warning and discovered a slice of beauty amid the garbage.
He shrugs. "I found it on one of my long cruises around town. It's easier to think up here." His boot rests against the edge of the building.
"Makes sense. It’s pretty peaceful… Once you get past the dangerous downstairs," I joke as I bump his elbow with mine.
“Yeah, this probably wasn't a good idea for a first date, now that you mention it. But hell…” Timber runs a hand through his hair. “I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to these things. Or you, for that matter.”
I’m taken aback by his uncertainty. The whole night he's been calm, confident, except for those tiny snippets of hesitancy toshow he was more than just a giant, unshakeable bodyguard. He’s human, too, with all the vulnerable emotions I have. The only difference is Timber hides them ninety-percent of the time.