4. Braxton

Ican't fucking believe it. Walking out to Rowen's car with her taste still lingering on my lips, that tattoo, it had me crumbling, knowing she got it to remind herself of the feather charm on the necklace I gave her on that fateful night. I pull her car into the bay that isn't occupied knowing damn good and well it'll be getting the works. Bridger must be getting it every which way between Kellie, his mom, and his sisters. He's a good brother, but it doesn't make it an easy pill to swallow that Rowen could be driving on bad tires, and if it's vibrating like she says it is, it's clearly got something else going on with it too.

Her car, if you can even call it that—I can't believe I'm sitting inside this rattle can of a car—this tiny two-door coupé passes as her car. Pulling the lever until I'm practically sitting in the backseat is the only way it'll fit my six-foot-two-inch frame. There's no way she'll be driving this come the first snowfall. I'll have to make sure the Bronco is finished so she can take the truck. By then, I'm hoping this shit is a thing of the past, and the ‘dirty little secret' Rowen threw, those being her words, will be down and the dust will be settled. Even if it is my own idea, it still sucks. That doesn't mean I don't want to take my time to get to know Rowen more, to see how we do in a relationship compared to the off-limits bullshit Bridger put on me when he saw me looking at her more than once.

Once her car is in the bay, I get out, placing the four lifts underneath before hitting the motor to lift it up so I won't be breaking my back while looking at her tires. This life isn't for the faint of heart, and when old man Red was ready to sell, I jumped at the chance after working my ass off with him for years before. That doesn't mean I'll see retirement anywhere near in my future, or sitting plush in the cash. I'm a simple man who enjoys a simple way of living, including the modest home I purchased last year. It's a simple three-bedroom, two bath. It does the job and is big enough to qualify at the very least as a good starter home.

"Fucking hell," I grumble out. The wear bars are well past showing on her tires, and her brakes are shot to shit. I can't imagine what else is wrong or when was the last time she had a damned oil change. That settles it. I'll keep her car here for the night and work on it in between my other customers. I wipe my hands off for the second time today as I make my way back to my office, shaking my head the entire time.

I walk inside the office, the music playing over the speakers that were installed in the garage as well as the inside, but I didn't have those turned on this morning. Rowen must have done that, probably bored out of her mind while waiting on me. I can't say that I blame her. There's not much you can do here. I saw her purse she left in the passenger seat, so she doesn't even have her phone. Who knows what the hell she could be up to. I'm shaking my head when I open up the door. I'm figuring Rowen will be singing to the music while thumbing through the magazines that come in the mail. That's not what I walk into though. She's singing to the music alright, her body swaying, keeping in tune the entire time. But the fucking place is clean. All the receipts and invoices I had piled up on my desk and scattered around are put away and you can actually see more of my office than ever before.

"Are you looking for a job? Because if so, you're hired," I tell her, unintentionally scaring her.

"Give someone some warning, would you. Your office is a shit show. It's a wonder you get it all taken care of." She's sitting in my desk chair now, slowly waking up the computer that I turn on once a month to pay the bills. Other than that, I use it for nothing else.

"Good, that will give you something to do for the time being until you land your dream job I know you've been searching for. Not to mention the phones. Jesus, the amount of times I get interrupted daily is ridiculous. I tried hiring someone from the temp agency, but nothing would stick," I grumble.

"I can't imagine why. Nothing is organized. You have the software, and yeah, it might be a lot for someone new to take in. You're lucky I thrive on this kind of stuff, never mind the business aspect. Which yes, by the way, I'll take the job. It might be a crapshoot. I could get hired by another company any day, or you could be stuck with me forever, or you know, you might get sick of me." I've never seen this side of Rowen, the one that loves the career she's making or the woman who's insecure I'd get tired of her. In that, there's no fucking way.

"Not sure that could ever happen, Rowen. I'll take my chances, siren. Your car is out of commission for the time being. Not to mention, how is that little car going to tote you around the mountains this winter?" I question her. Sure, it was good while she was on campus and in the center of town where streets were taken care of, but when you're in our rural area, that doesn't happen as often.

"As long as you're sure. Don't talk about my baby that way. She's done me just fine the past three years. I'm sure she'll continue to do so. Well, with some minor repairs." She bats those baby blues at me, and I'm done for.

"You keep thinking that. You're in my truck for now, and we'll come back to the topic of your car and snow. I have to get back to work. The keys are in the truck. Let me know when you leave. And Rowen?"

"Braxton?" She cocks her hip out, giving me that attitude of hers I love so much.

"That can be your uniform while you're in the office." I wink at her, ducking as she throws a magazine at me, but smiling nonetheless. This has got to be the best day of my life. I'm glad my five-foot-five brunette and blue-eyed girl came in today to confront me. She has bigger balls than most men do when it comes to getting something she wants, and I'm the lucky son of a bitch to call her mine.