Page 62

I’d left feeling Zen.
Only to pull into my driveway and find it strewn with oily car parts and tools that set me instantly on edge.
A familiar set of legs stuck out from beneath Kian’s truck, his feet clad in work boots. I couldn’t see his chest or face, but even from behind the wheel of my car, I caught a glimpse of his abs when his shirt rode up.
“Fuck,” I muttered, déjà vu washing over me at the familiar scene.
It was like Kian and I had time-warped straight back to our high school days, with me coming home from training and him out here working on whichever junk bucket car he’d managed to scrounge up enough money to restore.
I’d spent hours out here with him, slowly learning the names of tools as he’d called them out then laughed at me because I hadn’t known one end of a wrench from an oil filter.
It was like he’d been born knowing and loving all things mechanical. He’d tried teaching me, but I’d never really picked it up.
I’d liked watching though.
Watching him.
My phone rang through the speakers of my dad’s car, and I forced myself to quit staring at that little peek of abs and the light dusting of hair beneath his belly button.
I knew exactly where that led.
I swallowed thickly and answered the call, trying not to pant into the speaker. “Yeah?”
“Vaughn. It’s Harold Coker.”
I dragged my gaze to the display and forced myself not to groan. That was what I got for getting hard over Kian working on his car instead of paying attention to who was calling. If I’d realized it was my father’s business partner, I would have let it go straight to voicemail.
Then conveniently not listened to it for several days.
“What can I do for you, Harold?”
“I’ve been waiting for your call, but apparently, you’re just as irresponsible as you always were. There are things that need discussing, Vaughn.”
“I’m aware.” Like whether he had an alibi for the hours before my father’s murder for one. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him right now, but I wanted to see his face when I put that question to him.
It would be harder for him to lie while looking me in the eye.
Harold cleared his throat. “You’ll come in this morning then.”
“Happily. As soon as I’ve had a shower.”
“I’ll be waiting. Wear a suit, Vaughn. Don’t disrespect me by turning up here in your jeans and motorcycle jacket.”
He hung up before I could respond.
Pompous old asshole. I’d never liked the man, and he’d never liked me. I’d never understood why my father had gotten into business with him. He might have had money and connections, but he was an insufferable fool, and my father had known it too.
He’d just worded it more diplomatically than I did.
Dad had never minded if I turned up at his office in jeans and a leather jacket. He’d always just been happy to see me.
The same could not be said for his scowling business partner.
I got out of the car and took my time walking past Kian’s makeshift workshop.
When I neared, he rolled out from beneath the vehicle raised on ramps.
He didn’t bother adjusting his hoodie to cover up that damn sliver of skin though. “You went swimming.”