“I’ll say! Wow! Nobody’s ever pinned me on a dish counter before!” She headed back to the door. “Should I put this guy off? Say you left already?”

I nodded. “I think that’s for the best.”

Jenny disappeared through the door, and I hurried for the loading-dock door that led out into the alley to make sure Gavin had left. Just as I turned the back corner, I saw him roar down the street on his motorcycle.

I pressed my fingers into my lips, tender and swollen. Everything had happened so fast. I didn’t know what to think, except Gavin had reawakened something in me, a dark hunger that was far more dangerous than the passion we explored as teens. I was in trouble, big trouble, and I couldn’t see any way out.

I pressed against the wall. Focus. Remember school. Your goals. Get done. Get out.

Class. I had to get to class.

But my legs ignored me and I slid down until I was on the ground, my knees to my chest, a stupid vulnerable pose in that skirt, no doubt flashing anyone who cared to glance back toward the alley.

Austin appeared in the gap between the buildings, and I prayed he wouldn’t look this way. I scrambled to my feet, ready to flee, but of course the bits of rock and brick crunched beneath my shoes and got his attention.

“Corabelle?” He peered into the shadows.

I ran for the door but damn it, I forgot it locked on the outside. I could hit the delivery buzzer, but if Jenny was busy, she wouldn’t come right away.

He appeared around the corner. “Corabelle, are you all right?”

I pulled myself together and forced a smile. “Jenny told you my name?”

He nodded. “Did something just happen?”

“No. I’m fine. Really.”

Austin looked at the door. “You’re locked out?”

“Yeah. I accidentally let it shut.”

He leaned against the brick wall. “You have a minute?”

“Not really.”

He ran his hand through his hair, looking anxious. “Okay. Sorry. I just got that e-mail.”

I forced a clipped laugh. “Oh, that was Jason. He meddles.”

“You gave him my e-mail address?”

“He got hold of your note to me.”

Austin fiddled with the strap of his backpack. “He seemed to think you wouldn’t mind me coming by.”

“He shouldn’t have done that.”

He looked down at his shoes, and my sympathy surged, but I didn’t know what else to do. I practically dry-humped my ex in the dish room not five minutes ago.

And he’d called me easy. Right. Four years of abstinence was easy.

Austin held out his hand. “Well, here’s to being friends. I order cheap tea, and you give me warm-ups until the leaves give out.”

I reached for him, noticing right off how gentle his fingers were compared to the frenzied grip of Gavin. “The sugar’s free, you know.” I instantly blushed, realizing the double meaning.

“I’d already have starved half to death if it wasn’t. Student poverty.”

“I know how that is.”

“Can I walk you back around?” His hazel eyes were earnest. Once again I realized that if I could just feel something for someone else, maybe Gavin wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Okay.”

Austin settled his backpack on his shoulder and we wandered out of the shadow of the building and into the sun. If Gavin thought I was easy, maybe I should just be easy. If he hated me, then maybe we could stay apart.

As we turned to the front windows, Jenny looked up from inside, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Probably nobody had ever lost their nickname faster than I had just lost mine.

Chapter 12: Gavin

Bud looked up from the receipt book as I walked into the front office of the garage. “You’re late.”

“Had a school thing,” I said and walked on through to clock in. I spent all morning looking for Corabelle instead of working, just to find out she had some boyfriend.

I punched my card and actually wished for tires to throw and work off some of this tension. I could still feel Corabelle beneath my hands, her skin feverish, her body writhing against me. Was she doing it with that pipsqueak? Just thinking about it made my head want to explode. She was mine. She had to be. I had to get her to see that we belonged together.

But damn it, I upset her. Called her easy. Damn it.

Mario approached and shouted, “Heads up!” as he tossed me a set of keys.

“What’s this?”

“Another Camaro came through. Told the boss you could take one apart in your sleep. He says for you to change out the motor mount.”

That was a decent job, jacking the motor and pulling the mount, then realigning the engine. “He got the parts?”

“Yeah, came in while you were out. You’re moving up. Take Bay 3.”

I jingled the keys as I went out front to find the car. Bud was hard to figure out. First he threatens to fire me if I drop out of school. Then he moves me out of routine and into mechanics.

This Camaro was only a couple years old, and sitting in the driver’s seat didn’t fire up memories the way the other car had. I picked up the work order from the passenger side and saw it had come in for a tune-up when the motor-mount problem was discovered. With the other issues on the sheet, it looked like whoever owned this car rode it hard over rough terrain. The shocks were shot, tires out of alignment, and two of the axles were cracked. Those had all been fixed while I was scouting coffee shops, but the motor mounts were circled and Bud had scrawled, “Leave for Gavin.”