Riding Dirty: Luciotti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) - Kara Hart Page 0,2
Some new girl from the outskirts of Seattle? They took one look at her and scoffed. City girl.
I picked myself back up, grabbed a band-aid, and walked back into the kitchen.
“Stupid roses,” I said. I had gotten them for everyone at the café. I had been working there for a few months and I thought it might be nice to give everyone flowers for their hard work. Okay, maybe it was a weird idea, but I was trying to set my life straight.
Back in Seattle I rubbed everyone the wrong way. I had a boyfriend who stole literally everything from everyone, and I was too inside my own head to be a good person. Put it like this: I loved to watch people suffer. I wouldn’t physically hurt people. That was up to Cade, my ex. No, I would con people and leave them out on the curb. It wasn’t just in Seattle either. I’d lived in Phoenix, St. Louis, New York City, and Oakland. Monroe was just the smallest town to get me back to normal. Or so I had hoped.
“Morning George!” I shouted on my way to work. My morning run was a new habit to get my blood pumping in the morning. I heard it helped people deal with depression, though it didn’t do much for me. In fact, it messed with my asthma more than anything. Okay, it was a bad habit. In my right hand was the bouquet of roses, wrapped in a plastic bag. The café was just a mile or so up and I could see it in the distance.
Cars passed me as I ran. I waved to the ones I knew. To the ones I didn’t know, I simply smiled and hoped they didn’t judge me. As the new person in town, single without a solid career, I was sure my situation looked a little strange to outsiders, but I was trying my best. A car, black and raised, sped by me going at least 70 miles per hour down a residential street. The car swerved from side to side, taking no heed for pedestrians.
“Hey!” I yelled. “Slow the fuck down, asshole!” The man honked and swerved by, until his engine made a loud noise. He was forced to pull off to the side of the road. I could feel my throat tensing up as my anger seemed to exacerbate my lungs. I’m fine, I keep telling myself. Just breathe and you’ll be fine.
I shook my head and laughed to myself, headed toward the car. “It’s my lucky day,” I said, ready to give this guy my worst. The man got out of the car and opened the hood. Steam rose from the engine and the man shook his head and shielded his eyes from the smoke.
When I was nearer, I called out “Hey!” He turned and looked at me. “This is a small town and you’re speeding like a reckless maniac,” I said.
“And?” He turned back to look at his engine, going through it with his bare hands and a tool. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself.
“And there are nice people who go on walks! Children and the elderly. And here you are, driving like a total douchebag, without a care in the world.” The man paid no attention to my ramblings. I grew even angrier. “You know, I ought to take your license plate and report you. I know the Sheriff, you know.” It was a lie, but I didn’t like the idea.
“You got kids?” He asked me. His voice was deep and masculine, and it rumbled as if the sound waves ricocheted off the bottom of a whisky barrel. I found myself stepping back.
“No, I don’t,” I lied. “But other people in this town do. So watch it, okay?” He grabbed his shirt from the bottom of the fabric and lifted it up.
“You know anything about engines?” He asked me, standing there shirtless, wrapping the cotton around his right hand. He twisted a knob and poured some fluid in the opening
“No, sorry.” I mumbled. Was he seriously missing the point here? I looked him up and down. His pecs were covered in tattoos. In fact, his whole body was scattered with them. Tattoos, small bruises, and a few scars. I didn’t even want to know where he got those.
“Then get off my case. This isn’t my day.” he said to me, leaning into his engine some more. “Fuck. I’m going to have to call a mechanic now.”