Yeah, that had him moving his eyes back down to me somehow, that gaze shooting straight down his nose as his jaw got even tighter. Gritted. Pissed. “I’m not fucking playing right now,” he hissed down at me.

It was my turn to swallow. Even my poor little heart got tight at the pretty freaking uncalled-for expression he was aiming my way.

Rip was mad. At me.

So I blinked and wondered what the hell I had done to deserve it.

He must have been able to read my mind because he went off. “I asked you to talk to me about the car, didn’t I?” he snapped, his voice almost quiet but still so mad it caught me totally off guard.

I held my breath, and then I nodded because… well, he had.

But the thing was, I had tried to talk to him about it. I had called him. I just didn’t think it was the right time to argue that. From the way he was still looking down at me. I didn’t think that time was going to change anytime soon.

“Why would you paint the goddamn car after I told you I wanted to talk to you about it?” he griped, honestly, truly angry.

Still, I stood there.

He wasn’t going to hurt me or say anything I hadn’t heard before from a mouth I had loved.

So, I didn’t lie. Or bother trying to explain myself. I’d learned a long time ago that when certain people were mad, there was no reasoning with them. And Rip… he was being a jerk—a real jerk if I was going to be totally honest, because I had called him—but I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t worried. Not truly.

I stood there, my heart beating a little faster than it had been before, and told him the truth that wasn’t going to win me any more points. “I painted it because I called you to talk about the car, and you said you had no idea what I was referring to.” I kept my voice steady. “I did my job.”

I had.

His fingers went loose, and he swallowed again. “But I specifically fucking told you to wait for me to talk to you about it.”

I held my breath and didn’t move my gaze away from his face, not even for a second as I told him the same thing I already had. “I know, but I called you about it.”

Those white, white teeth flashed suddenly, and he hissed in that ugly, mean tone, “I didn’t want you to paint the fucking car that color, Luna!”

All right.

Everything was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was fine.

I finally let myself take a breath in through my nose and tried to keep my voice calm as I told him, again, like a dummy that didn’t know firsthand that you couldn’t get through to someone who was already mad, “But I called you—“

“I was fucking busy!”

I just… I just stood there, honestly, seriously, totally confused. What the hell was happening to him? It was one thing for him to be in a grumpy mood and gripe and be all condescending, but this?

Ripley looked at me and shook his head, his breathing choppy, going in and out of his nostrils. He dropped his hand then lifted it back up to the top of his head.

I didn’t move.

Rip shook his head, shook his hand out at his side and muttered in this crazy calm voice that I didn’t know what to do with. “Do it all over again.”

Do it all over again?

Was this a joke?

I wasn’t a drama queen, and I didn’t get offended easily either, but all I could do was literally stand there.

What he was asking me to do…

I squeezed my eyes closed, squeezed my hands closed, and told myself that there was nothing to be upset about. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t get paid hourly. It wasn’t like this was going to hurt me.

Besides internally for getting blamed for something that wasn’t technically my fault.

At least I thought so.

And you screwed up not that long ago, my brain reminded me.

“Start on it now. I’ll find the paint sample and call in the order. I’ll get somebody to pick it up,” he said in that low, icy voice that I had zero affection for.

I didn’t say anything as I opened my eyes and just stared at him, indignation and I don’t know what else taking the breath and the fight right out of me.

He wanted me to start over again. He wanted me to repaint a project I had already been working on. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was blaming me.

We both knew I was right. Deep down he had to know I hadn’t been in the wrong. Because we both knew that I had called. It wasn’t my fault he hadn’t been paying attention or he’d been too distracted to tell me what he wanted.

It definitely wasn’t my fault that he’d been on a roll with his triggers and short temper.

But I didn’t call him out on that or say any of that to his face.

He was my boss.

This was a job I didn’t want to lose, especially not over something that some subconscious part of me realized wasn’t worth being right over.

But that little part of me… that little Luna who’d gotten blamed for things she had nothing to do with… she wasn’t a fan of getting blamed for something that wasn’t anywhere near being her fault. I was tired of that.

But he was my boss.

My boss that was staring down at me, as I stared right back at him.

There was something going on with him. I knew it. This wasn’t like him. He couldn’t have hidden this kind of crazy for three years, and I had to understand it.

I bit the inside of my cheek and just went for it. What was he going to do? Yell at me some more? So I asked him, even though I wasn’t sure if this would just come back and bite me in the butt even more. “Rip, what’s wrong?”

Those teal eyes stayed zeroed in on me. His body almost too still, but he said, “You fucked up the car, Luna. What do you think?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His response was a glare.

So, we were back to that. Okay.

I wasn’t going to say anything about the dumb car. I knew he was wrong, he knew he was wrong, and something in my gut said that this, to a certain point, had nothing to do with the damn car he claimed to be so riled up about. But I had always struggled with leaving people alone, even though they might take their anger out on me, yet I still couldn’t keep my mouth closed.

I stood my ground. “I know you hate how much I try and joke with you, but if you wanted to talk about something, I would never tell anyone. Honest.” I blinked at him, lifting a shoulder. “I’m really good with secrets. No foolin’.”

He watched me, but he still didn’t respond. Those wide shoulders stayed tight. That mean expression stayed on his face, and this handsome, handsome man gave me nothing at all. Not a single thing.

I should have been used to it.

After a moment, he started to shake his head. “Start all over again” was all he said.

Then he turned around and walked out.

Life was a choice.

You get to choose how you handle things. You get to choose how you deal with those things. You get to choose if a rose is beautiful or if its thorns are a menace to your fingers.

What I chose was to not let Rip ruin my day. I was going to choose to not stay mad or hurt over this.

So, I balled up my anger toward Rip and I threw it in the trash.

He was my boss.

He was going with me to San Antonio, I was going to assume, and that was all that was going to matter to me. Something was wrong with him, and I’d just had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or something like that.

Whatever had just happened hadn’t been my fault.

But he’d still been a jerk. An unfair jerk to be specific.

I had a job to do though. I had money that needed to be made. That’s what I had to do. Ripley wasn’t my friend and wasn’t trying to ever be my friend. He was my boss.

I accepted that with a sigh, and then I got to work.

Chapter 7

When I got to the shop the next day thirty minutes earlier than usual, I told myself I was doing it because I had a lot of work to do.

Not because I was holding a grudge toward Rip.

And most definitely not because I’d had another bad dream including my dad that had me waking up sweating. I couldn’t remember exactly what had happened in it, only bits and pieces, but the dread and the nausea had been there. Live and present even after so long.