Page 53 of Devious Love

I told him I’d have to think about it. Even now, I’m not sure I’m ready to be anywhere near the field or the game—thoughwith each day, the prospect of being back in the football world becomes a little more tempting.

“Any plans for tonight? Wanna hit the Cove?”

I slouch down on the bench. “Ask me when we finish working on that M4 coupe.”

“Shit. Don’t remind me. I fucking hate what that lady did to her car.”

With a groan, I haul myself up. “She’s a customer. We gotta do what she wants, no matter how much we hate it.”

“When we open the custom shop, I’ll only take on projects I want to work on.”

I bark out a laugh as I head back to the open bay and the BMW on the lift. “Guess I’ll take on the rest, which means I’ll be the only one working.”

I was ready to leave,had changed my clothes and everything, when I made the stupid decision to check the BMW’s battery connections for corrosion. Now, I’m hunched over the engine, my back tense, my street clothes a mess.

All I want is to take a hot shower and go to bed, but Miles and Matt insisted we hit the Cove tonight for, in Miles’ words, booze and girls.

Yeah, as if alcohol will do me any good when I’m this fucking exhausted.

“Hey.”

At the greeting, I snap up straight, hitting my head on the open hood. “Fuck!”

“Oh God! I’m so sorry.” Remi rushes to my side as I turn to her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I rub the top of my head, grimacing.

She smiles, fiddling with the hem of her white tee. “How are you?”

Instead of replying, I turn back to the car and close the hood. It looks okay, but I’ll check it again tomorrow morning with a clear head.

“I’m good,” I finally say as I head to the grease-stained sink. “Why are you here?”

I twist the faucet handle, and cold water runs over my hands. Dark streaks swirl down the drain as I reach for the soap. I squirt it into my palm and scrub hard, my fingers working to get rid of the grease lodged under my nails.

“I was on my way home from work and thought I’d check on you, since you never replied to my texts.”

“Well, hi, and I think you should go,” I grit out without turning around. “As for the texts, I didn’t see them until this morning, and I’ve been busy here all day.”

“Don’t be like that.”

I shake the water from my hands, turn off the faucet, and reach for a towel. My knuckles are raw, just like the calluses on my palms, but I dry them a little too vigorously anyway as I turn to face her.

She’s leaning against the tool bench with her ankles crossed, wearing light blue jeans and flip-flops.

“Remi, we’ve been over this a thousand times. We broke up. For good. You need to move on.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Iwant to.” I toss the towel onto the bench and step toward her.

Her red hair is curly again, and it spills over her shoulders. Her alabaster skin is flawless, her dark eyes and red lips in sharp contrast. She’s a beautiful girl, and there was a time when I was truly into her, so much so that some days, my head would spinwhen we were this close. Now, though? Her presence brings a sense of nostalgia, I guess. We had some good times together.

But there’s also regret. Regret for what I put her through after the car crash, gratitude for how she stayed by my side during my darkest days.

I cup her cheek. “It’s time to move on. You deserve so much better than me.”

“Or maybe it’s time for you to stop telling me what to do.” She leans into my touch, her deep brown eyes shining as they search mine. “You are what I want. Only you.”