Читать книгу Love, Lattes and Mutants - Sandra Cox - Страница 11

“Dammit.” Heat courses through me. I could swear my blood is boiling.

“At least he didn’t slice all four.” Tyler stands behind me, hands on hips, studying my flat tire.

I whip around. “And I should be grateful?” Fuming, I yank open the door of the truck, lean in, and pull the jack out from under the seat.

Tyler moves me out of the way, engages the emergency brake, then takes the jack out of my hands.

“What are you doing?” My jaws are locked so tight I have to push the words out.

“I’m going to change your tire.” He squats down, pries off the wheel cover, and unscrews the lug nuts.

“I know how to change a tire.”

“No doubt.” A nut bounces out of the wheel cover and lands on the ground. I pick it up and toss it back. It clinks, spins, and then settles. I start to get the tire from underneath the truck bed but again am interrupted. Tyler nudges me aside with his hip.

Part of me appreciates the blatant male attitude. I quickly squelch it. “While I appreciate your help, it’s completely unnecessary. I can do that.” I reach for the tire.

“My father would turn over in his grave if I let a girl change a tire when I’m around.” He holds it easily away from me and squats down to slide it onto the axle.

I roll my eyes. “Your father’s alive.”

“Yeah, so it’s important we keep him that way.”

I bend down so we’re on the same level. “Why are you doing this?”

“I just told you.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Afraid I don’t.” He turns his attention back to the tire. A motor coughs behind us. White smoke spits from a clunker leaving the lot, followed by a new but dirty compact, a winking girl decal on the bumper sticker.

“Why are you having anything to do with me?” I can’t figure it out. “There’s not a girl in school who isn’t falling all over you.” As if to emphasize my point, two sophomores walk by giggling and poking each other, as they stare at Tyler’s hindquarters encased in tight soft denim.

“Except for you.” He spins on a lug nut. The traffic leaving the parking lot picks up.

“Is that what it’s about? The one you can’t have?”

“Can’t I?”

His voice lowers to a velvet swirl of sound.

“Look at me.” I flip my hands from my shoulders to my thighs. “I’ve seen the girls that chase after you. You don’t have to settle.”

He sighs. “Haven’t we had this conversation before? Besides, you’re making too much out of me changing a tire.” He turns back to the lug nuts.

Heat floods my face. “Sorry.” I stand and slap dust off my pants.

“I’m still planning on taking the boat out Saturday. Have you thought about going with me?” He twirls the last nut on and pushes to his feet.

“No.” I fight back regret. “And you shouldn’t go either. A storm’s coming in.”

“The weatherman disagrees. It’s supposed to be sunny with a light breeze.” He puts the jack away and dusts his hands.

I open my mouth to argue when a shadow falls across my feet. Fahrenbacher stands leering at me. “Keep that heap away from my car. You even smudge it you’ll be sorry.”

All the bewildered feelings that Tyler’s presence brings to the surface coalesce into one hot ball of anger. “You jerk.” I ball my fists and lunge.

Tyler grabs my shoulders, pulls me back, and steps in front of me. “You wouldn’t know anything about this would you, Edgar?”

“This has nothing to do with you, Carlisle.”

“Piper’s a friend of mine. I don’t like my friends messed with.” He straightens, his body language unmistakable. Fahrenbacher’s bigger and burlier but something about the way Tyler carries himself makes me think it would be a mistake to tangle with him. I’ve a feeling Tyler’s mild exterior hides raw passion. I hope Fahrenbacher has figured it out, too.

“Friend?” Fahrenbacher raises his eyebrows, his expression disbelieving. “Have you started slumming?”

In a movement too fast to follow, Tyler slams him up against my old truck. It happens so quickly, I barely have time to process what’s happening.

“Fight,” a pimply-faced freshman sings out. Most of the students are already in their cars or out of the parking lot. The ones left come running.

“Tyler, let him go.” I tug at his arm. Taut muscles beneath my hand quiver and jump.

“You owe her an apology.”

“She’s going to be waiting a long time,” Fahrenbacher spits out. “Now let me go before I tear your freaking head off.”

The students around us quiet and quickly disperse. It can only mean one thing. I glance around and see Mr. Myers, the basketball coach, striding toward us. “It’s Mr. Myers.”

Tyler drops his hand and takes a reluctant step back.

Fahrenbacher straightens and pulls away from the truck. He raises his chin and straightens his collar in typical male fashion.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Myers stares at the boys suspiciously. He’s tall and rangy, and wears his light brown hair cropped close to his head, his blue striped shirt tucked neatly into khaki pants.

“Just changing Piper’s tire.” Tyler’s easy smile is firmly in place. He squats down, picks up the jack, and slides it under the seat.

“I suggest you all quit loitering in the parking lot. Fahrenbacher.” He shifts toward Fahrenbacher, his gaze level.

“Just leaving.” His shoulder slams against Tyler as he strides away.

Tyler’s eyes spark and his jaw hardens, but only for a second. He calls in a casual voice after Fahrenbacher, “I’ll catch you later.”

Fahrenbacher stops and looks back, his expression full of menace. “I’m counting on it.” He stomps to his car, guns the motor, and drives away. Once out of the parking lot, he squeals the tires and peels out.

“Tyler.”

“Yes, Mr. Myers?”

“Whatever issues you’ve got with Fahrenbacher, keep it off school grounds.” He pauses before he adds, “Watch your back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Myers turns and trots back toward the school building.

Tyler and I stare at each other.

“You be careful.” I pluck at a piece of lint on my pants. Not that it’s noticeable in the baggy creases.

“You be careful.”

Before I realize what he means to do, Tyler reaches out, grabs my shoulders, and gives me a light shake. His touch electrifies.

I stare at him, mute, before common sense returns. I step away and he drops his hands. I wonder if he felt that current of electricity, too. By the way his eyes darken, I suspect he has.

My gaze wanders to his mouth. If such a light touch has this effect, what would those delectable-looking lips be like? My breath catches, appalled at the direction my thoughts take.

He clears his throat. “I can take care of myself. But you are so tiny a good breeze could blow you away.”

I lift my chin. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”

“Those edgy cheekbones don’t show on someone buried in fat.”

“My glasses hide my face.” I touch my cheeks, self-conscious.

“Unless you happen to be looking from the side.” He grins.

“Why are you looking at all?” I shoot back.

“Damned if I know. It’s certainly not your winning personality and I have no idea about your looks.” He grins as he gives me a once over. “You look like you’re in disguise.”

His grin lights me up inside. I fight off its effect. “It’s not a disguise. It’s me.” It’s all I can do not to gag. This? Me? Ha!

“Are you going out on the boat with me tomorrow?” He shifts his weight just as he shifts his conversation, catching me off guard.

“I already told you, no, I’m not. And, I repeat, you shouldn’t either.”

“If you change your mind, call me.” He rattles off his number before he ambles away.

Mentally, I toss up my hands. Why do I bother?