It was already past ten. She was probably sleeping. I tiptoed to her door and was crouching to place the tub of peanut butter on the floor when the door suddenly swung open.
I froze.
“You’re back already,” she said. Her voice was low, breathless.
Was she waiting for me?
I looked up, my breath hitching at the sight of her. Dark, catlike eyes stared at me. Suddenly it didn’t feel so ridiculous to be obsessed with someone I’d just met.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah.” I swiftly picked up the tub of peanut butter and hid it behind my back.
Had she seen it?
“Did you have dinner yet?” she asked.
I had, but if I told her that, she’d just go back in her room and ignore me.
“No.”
“Are you hungry, then?”
“Always.”
Her lips twitched into a small smile, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. “Is that for me?”
Tongue in cheek, I said, “Is what for you?”
Her eyes warmed with laughter. “That peanut butter you’re hiding behind you.”
Busted.
“Let’s make a deal. I’ll give it to you after you fix me something to eat.”
She nodded, and a lock of hair fell on the side of her face. My hand moved automatically, as if it had a mind of its own, and tucked the hair behind her ear.
It was irresistible.
She was irresistible.
A pretty blush appeared on her cheeks. “Pancakes?”
I nodded, feeling myself grin for the first time in days. “Pancakes.”
Chapter Seven
Veronica
I doubled my determination to find a job the next day. I felt threatened by the unfamiliar emotions Caleb could bring out in me, at how quickly I forgot all the precautions I put in place when he was near. I had to find a good-paying job and move out of his place, be on my own again.
By the third hour of job hunting, I glanced at my list, noting only one name left that wasn’t crossed out.
Hawthorne Auto Repair Shop—cashier/clerk. Apply in person. Salary to be negotiated.
Hawthorne Auto Repair Shop was on the opposite side of town from Caleb’s place, but that didn’t stop me. I boarded the bus and hoped for the best.
The garage was located on a big lot, a long, rectangular building freshly painted in metal gray with dark-blue trim. A smaller building with a slanted roof was attached to the left side. Cars were neatly parked side by side in rows of three.
The whirring of machinery, metal grinding against metal, and the heavy scent of diesel greeted me as I entered the garage. A young guy in a blue mechanic’s uniform was talking on his cell phone, his face youthful and stained with grease. He signaled for me to wait and jogged toward me.