Make Me Forget: The Walker Brothers, Book 4 by Amanda Adams

Author:Amanda Adams [Adams, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub

8

Laura

* * *

“Hey, George. I’m taking off. Want me to lock up?” Connor walked into the garage where Laura was polishing her wrenches for the fourth or fifth time. She was done. She’d been done for over an hour, but she’d made a promise to Derek and she meant to keep it.

“No thanks. I’m supposed to meet Derek here when he gets back.”

Connor raised a brow but didn’t say anything weird. Thank goodness. “Okay. I’m going to lock the front door. Everything else is locked up. You can get out, but no one can get in without a key.”

“Great, thanks.”

Connor watched her for a long, silent minute. “You can wait in his office if you want. At least there’s a chair in there. And it’s not so damn cold.”

That made her laugh. She’d been shivering, she knew it, but it was fifteen freaking degrees outside and she had desert blood. She’d spent most of her life in southern California and this biting cold was as foreign to her as the five inches of snow that dusted the ground outside.

“Okay. Thanks Connor.” He nodded and patted the doorframe in farewell as he headed back out to the front of the shop. She set the wrench down and tossed the cleaning towel aside. “And you aren’t getting any cleaner.”

With a sigh of impatience she followed Connor out to the front and made her way to Derek’s office. She’d never been in the small space before.

It felt like intruding. Like she was on sacred ground. But it was much warmer than the garage and she was not enough of a masochist to sit out there in the cold.

Maybe she should wait in Connor’s office instead. It was bigger, with lots of windows and multiple chairs…and it didn’t feel so personal.

She got up and walked across the showroom to the closed glass door.

Locked.

“Damn it.” It was either sit at Derek’s desk or wait out there in the cold. And that was not really an option now that she’d felt the heat coming off the electric baseboard along the wall behind Derek’s desk.

Sitting down in his padded blue chair, she let her gaze wander, fascinated to be in such an intimate space. His space.

His desk was barren except for a computer monitor, mouse, keyboard, a pad of unused sticky notes and a desk set full of pencils. No pens. No stapler. No calculator. No clutter. Pencils. Mechanical. Yellow #2. Drafting pencils. Fat ones. Thin ones.

“You are a strange man, Derek Walker.” She whispered the thought aloud and studied the calendar affixed to the wall directly in front of her. There he’d meticulously penciled in orders and due dates for various clients. Behind her the wall was covered with photographs of custom bikes he’d built himself, his signature in the bottom of each picture. Derek was in each photograph, standing next to the motorcycle with the machine’s new owner. It was like that wall of diplomas always on display in a doctor’s office, except Derek’s credentials were beautiful, powerful machines instead of a degree from Harvard.

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