I had most of my homework done, only a review sheet left to fill out, so that took me no time at all. I pulled the book I was reading out of my bag and propped it on my knees. One of the perks of working at the library was the convenience of getting a new book to read. I couldn’t afford a new book all the time—and I read fast—so it was nice to be able to check one out whenever I wanted.
Every time I read a page, I’d glance up in the hopes that the tow truck had arrived. But it wasn’t here yet, and I’d been sitting here for close to an hour. It would be my luck that it would take closer to two hours to arrive.
Just when I was starting to get really pissed off, the truck pulled into the lot.
I shoved my stuff in my backpack and slung it over my shoulders. I stopped just as the automatic doors swooshed open. You had to be kidding me.
Wentworth Wheels, read the name on the side of the truck. It figured my insurance company would pick the one repair shop run by Trent’s older brother.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to step outside and face this like a big girl.
“I believe I know you,” Trace said as he climbed out of the truck. Trace was Trenton’s older brother. They both looked alike with their dark hair and build, and both always seemed to forget to shave. The big difference between the two was Trent had blue eyes and Trace had green. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Rowan, right?”
I nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
“Hey, Trent!” He called. “Come here! It’s Rowan!”
My eyes threatened to bug out of my head as Trent rounded the front of the truck. Even when he wasn’t trying to find me he was there. I couldn’t escape him—and who was I kidding? I kind of liked seeing him.
He smiled an easy grin, casually leaning against the side of the truck. He didn’t approach me like expected. Instead he hung back, like he was waiting for me to make the first move. I had news for him, he’d have to keep waiting.
“Looks like you’re in need of some help, Row,” Trent nodded at my dead car.
“Yeah,” I grumbled.
“Luckily,” Trent took a few steps forward, “my brother here knows exactly what he’s doing, so you’re in good hands.” He clapped Trace on the shoulder.
Trace reached up to push his hair from his eyes and a wedding ring glinted on his left hand. I wondered when that had happened. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you fixed up in no time. The Wentworth brothers know exactly what they’re doing.” Something about the way he said it made me think he wasn’t just talking about cars.
“You work on cars too?” I asked Trent.
He nodded, smiling crookedly. “Only when I’m home on breaks and during the summer.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Trent stepped forward until we were so close that when the wind blew my hair brushed his chest. He grabbed a piece of my flying hair and rubbed it between his fingers, then reached up to tuck it behind my ear. “Remember, Rowan, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“I know plenty,” I snapped, taking a step back to distance myself from him. The scent of his cologne was making me dizzy as memories of last night—his lips pressed so tenderly to mine—flickered through my thoughts. I wanted to deny enjoying the kiss, but I had. After I went home, it had been all I could think about.
“Ah,” he reached out, running the back of his fingers along my cheek, “but a person does a lot of changing in five years.”
“You might have changed, Trent,” I pulled my hair back so it wasn’t blowing in my face, “but so have I. I’m not the girl you remember from high school. She died a long time ago.”
Trent frowned, a wrinkle marring his forehead. “I don’t care who you were or who you’ve become. You’re still you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know who I am anymore, so how do you expect to ever know the real me?”
“I’ll find her,” he said triumphantly, “I always did like a challenge.”
“Don’t you see? I don’t want to be a challenge for you—something to conquer and brag about.” My eyes darted to the ground as I wrapped my arms around my body to protect from the searing wind.
“I never said I wanted to conquer you,” he shook his head. “How do you always manage to misconstrue what I say?”
I shrugged, kicking a pebble with the toe of my worn shoe. “It’s a talent.”
He stepped forward again, grabbing my wrist so I couldn’t get away. “I don’t care what you say, I know you feel whatever this is that we have. Don’t think for a minute that I haven’t noticed the way your breath falters when I get too close or how your eyes flash with desire. I definitely can’t forget the way you responded to me last night,” his voice lowered to a husky whisper that had desire filling my belly. “You can’t deny that you liked it when I kissed you.”