She shakes her head fast. “I don’t want to put you out like that.”
Put me out? Oh, she can put me out anytime, or better yet, put out for me.
I scrub the scruff on my chin. “It’s not a problem…uh...shit, I don’t even know your name.”
“Rachel,” she says.
“Jaxon.” I hold a hand out for her to shake it, and she hesitates, going back to shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Cassie does that when she has to go to the bathroom. But I don’t think that’s Rachel’s problem. Tension vibrates from her, and I take in the almost fearful way she’s staring at my hand. Why the fuck is she afraid of me? Is it the murder rap her friends were talking about, or is it something else altogether?
I eye her carefully, note the way she continually casts uneasy glances over her shoulder as she shifts. I might be on the straight and narrow now, but over the years I’d be dragged up and kicked around. I’d survived playground bullies, cruel foster parents, and poverty, so yeah, I know a girl on the run when I see one.
“Jaxon Morgan,” I say and continue to hold my hand out, and think back to the night she showed up here, with nothing but a rundown car and her belongings in a backpack. No family or friends to help. While I realize trouble is the last thing I need in my life—with the in-laws trying to prove I’m an unfit parent—I can’t just turn my back on her. I’m not looking to be anyone’s savior, but Christ, it’s obvious this girl could use a fucking break.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Rachel.” I roll one shoulder as a strange kind of protectiveness grips me. “Just offering a ride and a deal on some car work. We’re neighbors after all, right?”
She shoves her hand into mine, and I give it a squeeze. “Right, sorry…I…” She exhales and gives me a smile, like she wants to start over again. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”
“Can you give me a minute to get Cassie’s lunch packed?”
“Sure.”
“Come have a seat inside the shop. Get out of the sun while I get her ready.” She snags her purse from her car, locks the doors behind her and follows me into the service bay, aka the bottom half of my house. I grab a piece of paper from behind the counter and gesture toward my cleanest chair. “Have a seat there, and fill in your contact information.”
“Oh, okay. What do you need that for?”
“Just in case I run into trouble working on the car and need to run something by you.” I give her a wink. “Since you know so much about fixing vehicles.”
She smirks as she fishes a pen from her purse, and that’s when I realize how much I like her, how easy she is to be around. Not that I know her. I don’t. But I love how she shut down her roommates this morning when they were all staring at me. The only one I like watching me is her. Yeah, I caught her checking me out—and not just this morning.
Dammit, don’t go there, Jaxon. Cassie needs stability, and you can’t bring trouble into your life.
“I’ll be right back.” I dash up the stair, tug on a T-shirt and hurry into the kitchen. I grab Cassie’s empty cereal bowl and drop it into the sink. It teeters on top of the pile of dishes already stacked high. Cassie comes skipping down the hall.
She holds her sneakers up for me to see. “I found them.”
I grin at her, and run my hands over her hair. “Good girl. Are you ready?”
“Yeah, but I want twisted pony, Daddy.”
Twisted pony, aka top twisted pony braid. I groan inwardly. Even after watching the braiding ninjas on YouTube, my big fingers struggle to get it right. According to Cassie, we usually end up with Nightmare Moon—a reference to the villain on My Little Pony. Sometimes I swear she asks just to torture me.
“How about we just put it up into a ponytail.” My mind rushes back to the no-nonsense way Rachel wears her hair. While I like that, I’d love to pull the elastic out and watch those long curls spill over my sheet. I clear my throat. Fuck man, I need to stop fantasizing about my neighbor.
“Please…” she says.
“Okay, hurry, grab the elastic and brush. I have a customer downstairs and I need to give her a drive because her car is broken down.”
As Cassie dashes back down the hall, I reach for her lunch box, but it hits the pile of dishes and two plates clatter to the floor and break.
Fuck. I do not have time for this. “Cassie, don’t come in here,” I yell out.
I crouch down and pick up the big shards of glass and drop them into the garbage can. One cuts my finger. “Shit.” I shove it into my mouth.
“Are you okay?” My head jerks up to see a breathless Rachel standing in the doorway. “Sorry, I heard a crash, and thought you might need some help.” Her gaze leaves mine and takes in the state of my kitchen. Fuck, the in-laws are threatening to call child protection services. If they showed up now, I’d surely lose Cassie. But I’ve been so busy at work, and with Cassie starting kindergarten, I’d gotten a little behind on the housework. Then again, it’s also possible I got a little lax because they’ve been away for the last month, vacationing in the Caribbean. Apparently, their absent daughter, and my ‘unfit’ parenting hasn’t prevented them from jet-setting around the world.
“Excuse the mess.”
“No, it’s okay,” she says quickly, her t-shirt shifting over her breasts as she rests a shoulder against the kitchen doorframe and folds her arms. Does she have any idea
