Trouble From the Start Read online

  He dropped a tool into the box. It clanged. He picked up another one. “It’s just something I’m doing on my own time. Smiley was okay with it.”

  “Like when you worked on my car?”

  “Yeah, something like that. Let me just finish what I’m doing here.”

  I leaned against the side of the car, intrigued that he could look into what appeared to be a scramble of parts and know what needed to be fixed. I was also curious, maybe even a little jealous that he was giving time to someone else’s car like he had mine. I had hoped I was special. “Whose car is it?”

  “Mrs. Ellis,” he said through gritted teeth as he struggled with something—tightening, loosening, I didn’t know.

  “The English teacher?” I asked, surprised. She wasn’t that much older than us. Did he have a crush on her?

  “That’s the one.”

  “Her husband’s serving in Afghanistan.”

  “That’s what I heard. She brought it in for an oil change, but it’s just a breakdown waiting to happen. Frayed belts, loose hoses. If her husband was here, he’d probably have replaced them all by now, so I’m just doing it.”

  “On your own time so she’s not charged for labor.”

  He gave a little awkward shrug.

  My chest tightened. I was falling for him. There was a goodness to him that he didn’t see. “You’re a nice guy.”

  “Smiley’s covering the cost of the parts.”

  “Okay, so two nice guys.”

  He grunted as whatever he’d been struggling with gave. With a nod of satisfaction, he looked at me. “So what did you bring me to eat?”

  We sat on stools at a workbench where tools hung on pegs. The fragrance of oil and grease wafted around us. I unveiled the plate and handed him a fork. He poked at the Brussels sprouts.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Brussels sprouts. You know . . . vegetables.”

  With a grimace he shook his head and dove into the lasagna.

  “You want to hear something kind of cool?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  He reached into a pocket, withdrew a key, and grinned. “Smiley gave me a key to the shop so I could lock up when I’m done.” He studied the brass like it was pure gold. “He trusts me with all of this.”

  “Of course he does,” I told him.

  Shaking his head, he slipped the key back into his pocket. “I don’t know. Makes me feel different.”

  “It’s a good feeling when people trust you, depend on you.”

  “Yeah.” As though suddenly uncomfortable, he turned his attention back to the lasagna. “This is good.”

  “It’s Mom’s secret recipe. Noodles from a box, sauce from a jar.”

  He smiled. “Might be something I could make, then.”

  “Most definitely. All her recipes are quick and easy. She’s not a fan of cooking.”

  “How about you?”

  “I like making desserts. That’s about it.” Reaching over, I snagged one of the Brussels sprouts from his plate and popped it into my mouth. “I can’t believe you don’t eat vegetables.”

  “I can’t believe you do. They’re gross.”

  “They’re healthy.” I glanced around. “You like working here?”

  “Yeah. Don’t know that I want to do it forever, but it’s good for now.” He finished off the lasagna and toast.

  “How much longer will you be?” I asked as I rewrapped the plate and slipped it into the cover.

  “About an hour.”

  “That’s not too late. We can still get some tutoring in.”

  Suddenly he looked very uncomfortable. “I know I should have texted you, but I’m . . . uh . . . meeting someone when I’m finished here.”

  My heart gave a little thud, but I tried to keep my voice level, not to give away how much I was bothered by his announcement. “Oh? Anyone I know?”

  “Probably not.”

  “A girl, I assume.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s good,” I said as I hopped off the stool. “Hope you have fun.”

  I picked up the plate holder. Unfortunately, I hadn’t closed it securely. The plate slid out and shattered on the floor. Brussels sprouts rolled all over the place.

  “Great,” I muttered as I bent down and began picking up the broken pieces.

  Fletcher crouched. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “No, I made the mess. I’ll take care of it. You need to finish with the car, so you’re not late for your date.”

  “I don’t date. I get together with girls. Girls who aren’t looking for any kind of a commitment. They just want a good time. That’s all I’m looking for.”

  “And I’m not a good time.”

  He sighed. “I told you, Avery. It would never work with us.”

  “I get that,” I said. “I do. You want easy. And I’m not that.”

  He sighed. “You are most definitely not easy. Let me clean this up.”

  I tried really hard not to let his words hurt, but still they stung. “You sweep. I’ll hold the dustpan.” With my head down, it would give me time to recover before I had to face him.

  When the last of the mess was cleaned up, I held the quilted cover to my chest. “Sorry I had to put you to so much trouble,” I said to Fletcher.

  “Not a problem.”

  “Liar,” I said with a false grin. “See you later.”

  I knew he was standing in the doorway of the bay watching me as I drove off. I almost waved, but I was too busy kicking myself for coming here with expectations that maybe things would work between us. I was also a bit unsettled to discover that I had a spiteful streak. I really, really hoped that he had a lousy time on his date.

  Chapter 30

  FLETCHER

  Her name was Raven. She had short, coal-black hair that spiked in all directions, thick black liner around startling green eyes, a stud in her lip, a ring in her eyebrow, and a 3D tattoo on her hand that made it look like her skin was being peeled back to reveal bone. I knew her from school. She graduated last year and was studying music at a university near Dallas. She was home for the summer.

  We’d gone out a couple of times, once last summer, once at Christmas. She’d called my cell phone because she’d stopped by the trailer and a neighbor told her I no longer lived there. It had occurred to me that if I made a point to see other girls, I wouldn’t keep thinking about Avery.

  So here I was at a club where I shouldn’t be since I was underage. But a fake ID opened a lot of doors.

  Raven and I were sitting on a couch. Well, I was on the couch. She was in my lap, swaying to the music that was bound to leave us both deaf.

  “I love this band!” she shouted.

  She was about six inches shorter than Avery, three inches wider. Why did I even notice that?

  “They’re good,” I yelled back.

  “We should dance,” she said. Then moved in and kissed me.

  This was what I wanted. Easy. A kiss, a dozen of them. The sensations—

  But it wasn’t Avery’s mouth, or Avery’s taste, or Avery’s sweetness.

  Drawing back, Raven slid off my lap and snuggled against me. “Want to go somewhere and make out?” she asked.

  “Let’s listen to the band for a while.” What guy said that? One who felt guilty for being here, one who thought he might have hurt Avery’s feelings. But better to hurt her now, to cut things off early rather than later. She was probably glad she didn’t have to tutor tonight. She was probably with Kendall and Jeremy, doing something fun.

  Why was I thinking about her? The whole reason I was with Raven was so I wouldn’t think about Avery.

  “Let’s dance,” Raven insisted. She jumped to her feet, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up.

  The dance floor was only about two feet away, so we reached it fairly quickly. Raven started gyrating and was pretty much dancing with everyone in the area. Why were we here?

  We’d arrived separately, met up outside. I’d asked