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bloody crusts covering his knuckles.
    “What happened to you?” I fold my
arms and lean against the doorway.
    His eyes dart my way. “Fuck, you
shouldn’t come up on people like that. I didn’t see you there.”
    “Did I scare you?”
    “Nothing scares me.”
    “Right.” I press the side of my
head against the doorframe. “You going to tell me where you were all night?”
    “What are you, my parole
officer?”
    I resist the obvious comeback in
lieu of, “We were all just worried about you, that’s all.”
    There’s no way I’m telling him
that his dad didn’t seem to care.
    “I worked out at the gym tonight.
Hit the bags a little too hard.”
    “Liar.” I shake my head.
    “God’s honest truth,” he snorts,
drying his hands on one of the white hand towels. It’s going to have to be
bleached now. He may as well throw it away unless he wants my mother asking
questions. “Not that I give two shits if you believe me or not.”
    His forearms flex and bulge as he
moves and my eyes follow the round curve of his shoulders down the deep arch of
his lower back and then slide down the length of his long, muscled legs. Every
muscle in his body is ripped to shreds, and his body is fifty tons of solid
dynamite.
    I’ve never been with a guy like
him, not that I’m entertaining this, but for comparison’s sake, he’s everything
I’ve always steered clear of.
    He’s dangerous.
    Alluring.
    A big, red warning sign wrapped
up in a package of masculinity and unapologetic brawn.
    “Where’d you go to school?
Before…” I start to ask, trying to break the awkward tension with a generic
question.
    “It’s too damn late for small
talk, Jordana.”
    He seems annoyed with me, like
I’m some pesky little sister.
    At least he got my name right.
    And then his eyes land directly
on my cleavage. He doesn’t even try to hide it.
    Shameless.
    “If you’re going to stand there
with your tits half hanging out your shirt, the least you can do is wiggle you
ass a little too.”
    “You’re an asshole, Titan.”

CHAPTER SIX
– TITAN

 
    “Man, how’d you get home last
night? You were so fucked up.” KJ pushes Kyle, shoving him into the wall with
minimal force. Kyle swings back, his reflexes clearly delayed as a result of
his massive hangover. They remind me of a couple of bear cubs rolling around and roughhousing.
    “Couldn’t even tell you,” Kyle
moans, adjusting his hat. He motions for a customer to pull a car into bay
number three. The morning sun sears through the glass garage doors, and he rubs
his temples hard.
    “You stay out drinking after the
fights?” I grab my drill. The fights ended pretty late, but I didn’t stick
around to babysit fucking Kyle afterward. I had to haul ass to get out of
there, not wanting to be seen covered in blood.
    “Always,” KJ
huffs. “That’s what he does.”
    Kyle is quiet.
    “So you win last night?” KJ asks,
his eyes trailing down my arms and landing on my bruised knuckles.
    “Of course.” I smirk. “What kind
of question is that?”
    Kyle walks away, disappearing
into his dad’s office. I’m almost positive he’s going to try to sneak in a
quick nap before Terry arrives.
    KJ shakes his head. “He’s going
to get caught one of these days. You know that, right?”
    “Caught? Fighting?”
    I’m not following.
    “Driving like a drunk idiot,” KJ
says. “He’s stupid lucky is what he is.”
    I fully knew Kyle Rasmussen was a
smug, entitled pencil dick, but now I want to smash his head into the cinder
block walls of this garage.
    Another car pulls up to an empty
bay and honks for service.
    But the conversation isn’t over.
    Not yet.
    For the rest of the day, it’s all
I can think about. Every time I look at that asshole, I want to fucking murder him.
    There’s a wad of $2,000 cash
stuffed in my sock drawer from the night before. It’s enough to get me settled
in a new apartment and out from under my father’s roof.
    I refuse to work here any longer
than