push away from the table, needing some space from Travis. He, obviously, feels some type of resentment toward Rome, and that won’t change just because I told him we’re on good terms.
“I’ll see you back out there.”
I hear his protest, as I walk away, but I don’t bother turning around.
By the time I pull into my driveway, I’m bone-tired. I’m also pleasantly surprised to see Rome’s garage open. I shift on the seat, trying to see what he’s doing in there. Trapping my bottom lip between my teeth, I wonder if I should go over there. It’s late, I think idly, as I glance at the clock on the dash.
My mind gets made up for me when I spot him stand to his full height, my stomach, once again, doing flips. The force with which the butterflies take flight is reckless and all consuming, like G6 fighter jets. Shaking it off, I grab my purse and climb out of the car, heading toward his garage.
He pauses what he’s doing and stares. I feel his gaze linger on me, traveling up and down my body. The shiver it elicits rolls through my body in waves.
“You’re up kind of late.”
He shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep, decided to knock out some stuff. Just get off?” He looks pointedly at my clothes, and I have a moment of self-consciousness. I’ve been working all day in these clothes, so I probably look like a complete mess.
Distractedly, I tug at my scrub shirt. “Yeah. It’s been a long day.”
Rome jerks his head over his shoulder, and because he’s full of surprises tonight, he pulls up the same bucket I sat on last time and places it next to him, leaving a hearty length of space between us. I wish the space wasn’t there, but a woman can’t be picky.
“You mentioned you work with animals?”
“Yeah, I’m just an assistant at the vet clinic.”
“You ever thought about being a vet?”
I purse my lips. “Yes and no. It’s a lot of stress, and it’s still a lot of schooling. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
He chuckles, and though I hate to admit it, I’m beginning to love the sound. How is it this man can bring out the most extreme emotions in me?
I hate him.
Now I like him.
I can’t even keep up at this point.
I watch him from my perch on his bucket, as he gets to work on the car with Metallica playing softly in the background. When he’s deep in thought, those thick brows pull together, forming a deep crease. Even when he’s not frowning, you can still see the indents in his face, the frown lines. That just must be how often he does it. Every so often, he licks his lips, and my eyes follow the movement, wondering what they’d feel like. His muscles bunch and bulge, when he lifts something heavy or goes to tighten stuff.
I’m completely enraptured with him, while he works. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man work so hard, and now that I know what I know about him, it makes me wonder how someone can have so much drive and self-restraint.
I think about my meeting with the social worker earlier, and my stomach clenches uncomfortably. I’m obviously not going to tell him what I did. The last thing I need is for him to yell at me again. But, also, it’s not like my meeting helped. What’s the point in getting his hopes up?
“I really am sorry. About the other day. With the prank. And the social worker.”
He pauses what he’s doing, resting his oil-weathered manly hands on the front of the car, near the open hood. He bows his head for just a second, and I wonder what he’s thinking. He turns to face me, and my heart shrivels, just a bit, at the brief flash of indignation in his eyes.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?’ I whisper, afraid this will be the moment he snaps and tells me he’s still angry.
“Pity me, Olivia. Don’t pity me.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Rome, I don’t pity you. I admire you. You’ve accomplished so much despite the way you grew up. I have every reason to believe you’ll get him back. Believe me, what I feel for you isn’t pity.”
My eyes widen when I realize what I just said, and the many ways he can take it. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I open my mouth, about to explain what I really meant, but he beats me to it.
He blows