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Tiptoeing like I was breaking the law, I opened the huge walk-in cooler to find a bunch of car parts. “So that’s how they make such cool cars.” I looked around quickly. “Thank God no one was around to hear that,” I whispered to myself.

After surreptitiously taking a few pictures, I settled into a lush couch and brought out my iPad. I’d just started reading when Kase came in and headed straight for the box of baked goods.

“Pipe. Seriously. Did you put crack in these cookies?” Since I’d seen him earlier, he’d pulled his dreads back and lost his t-shirt.

Oh, how unfortunate. I should help him find it and all his other shirts.

And burn them.

It’ll be my service to all womankind.

His white tank top and low hung jeans were smudged with grease.

Oh, I see… Golden hued, ripped, flirty, crystal blue-eyed… Wait, where was I going with this again? Oh yeah. So Kase can wear a tank but I can’t?

I smiled at him. “Nope, even worse. Loads of sugar.”

“They’re awesome. You have crazy kitchen skills.”

“Speaking of crazy kitchens, what’s the deal with this one?”

“It used to be a restaurant-slash-party house before it was Hyde’s. Too much work and too expensive to change this room, with the gas line from the stove and all. Plus, kind of hard to disguise a walk-in. So, it was left as is, and made into the break room.”

“Gotcha.”

“I gotta head back. Thanks for the sweetness, Piper,” Kase said with a finger wave.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of a badass doing a finger wave.

As he walked out, I settled in to read. After about five minutes, I heard a distant and gentle, “Babe.”

I blinked. Or rather opened my eyes, and saw Jake looking down at me. I glanced behind him to the clock on the wall and saw the five minutes was more like an hour and a half.

“Damn,” I said through a yawn as I sat up and stretched.

Jake leaned back on the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “You good?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Dozed off reading.”

“Nah, it’s good. I would’ve let you sleep, but I didn’t know if you had to be anywhere. Your van is done.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he muttered as he stood. After giving me a chin lift, he left without another word.

I went to the front and paid Z, once again suspecting it was much less than it should have been.

“Ready to rock, Doll Face?” he asked, flipping me my keys.

I followed him back into the garage.

“Test her out. Put something hard on.”

I put my current favorite CD on and squealed as the bass pumped. Turning the volume down, I hopped out. “Z, this rocks. Thank you so much.”

“Quit with the thanks bullshit.”

“Alright. Sorry.” I grinned.