Wanted her opinion first, even before my family.
“You’re the one who keeps saying you’re on leave. I take that to mean this is temporary,” she said curtly.
“Does this look temporary to you?” I spread my arms wide.
“Looks to me like a man who doesn’t know where he wants to be.”
“What are you talking about?” I stared at her incredulously, though her words had a ring of truth in them. One I was going to ignore. At some point I had to stop running. “I’m showing you what I see for the future. I’m not the one who doesn’t know that they want.”
Her shoulders rounded and she folded her arms around her middle. Damn it. I couldn’t stand it when she tried to hide from me. Like I was the enemy.
I crossed the space that separated us in quick strides. “Easy, I already signed the papers. I want to be in New York. As strange as it may seem, I like my roommate. And I could see us . . . moving apartments. Staying here rather than where we are now.”
I’d sworn I’d never be vulnerable again, but something about her made me stop thinking. Deep down, I was tired of running. With roots—property, a business, her—I couldn’t just pack up and leave on a whim.
“So I’m just supposed to go along. The decision’s already been made.” The disappointment she felt in me was palpable. I just didn’t understand it.
“This place feels right.” I wanted to reach for her, but she was too far away despite standing right in front of me. “It seemed perfect. Soon you’ll outgrow the apartment. You won’t be able to make the quantities of product you’ll need.” I couldn’t stop myself from peeling her hands away from her body and taking them in mine. “If this isn’t the right place, then we’ll find somewhere you like.”
“You already signed the papers,” she said.
“This will be my shop. I meant if it wasn’t the right space for you to build your empire, then we’d find somewhere that is.”
“Empire?” she squeaked.
I squeezed her hands. “Empire.”
“It’s just a hobby. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
These moments of vulnerability were night and day from the woman who put lipstick on me without asking. I liked the soft side of Baker, but I wanted her to have confidence in her abilities. I certainly did.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, either.”
“You know how to fix a car. Trish told me about what you did for Delores.”
Something strange happened when she took up for me. I liked it. More than I should.
“That’s the easy part. I don’t know how to run a business. Be a property owner. Find customers.”
“I’m beginning to question if you know how to fix a bathroom too.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling and pulled her against me. “Oh yeah?”
“First it was just the shower that was broken. Now it’s the toilet. I’m not sure I should let you in my bathroom anymore.” There she was. The one who let stuff roll off her back. The one who had no problem using me as a guinea pig.
“Can’t have it both ways, Easy. Either you live with me smelling like a grease monkey or you let me use our shower.”
“Our shower? There is no our.”
“Sure, there is. We’re both using it.”
She slapped at my chest, but at least she was smiling now. “All right, Grease Monkey. Show me around.”
* * *
After we’d wandered the entire space, she swiped off some of the dirt from the front counter. “I think you might be on to something about a repair shop that’s friendly to women.” She glanced around what could be the waiting area for customers. “I remember my mom feeling like she’d been screwed by a mechanic. She never took the car into the shop again.”
She rarely mentioned any family. I wanted to ask more. When had that happened? Was she close with them at some point? They didn't seem to be now.
“Did it ever happen to you?” If it had, it wouldn't again under my watch, but we could draw off of her experiences to make things better for customers.
She looked embarrassed. “I've never had a car. Never had a license.”
“My dad and brother haven’t had cars in years. I don't know if either of them have a driver’s license either,” I said, trying to make her feel better. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Our conversation had been going so well I didn't want to derail that,