"Sorry, I just wanted to talk to you. I tried to get your attention but—"
"You don't sneak up on someone like that!" He walks over to his workbench and grabs a rag, holding it against the back of his head.
I race over to him. "What's wrong? Is it bleeding?"
"Nah, I just like holding a towel to my head," he says, rolling his eyes.
"It's bleeding? Oh God, I'm so sorry. What can I do? Do you need to see a doctor? I could go get my car and take you. I don't really know this town but—"
"Go," he says, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on mine. Despite the anger in them, he has gorgeous eyes. They're the richest shade of green I've ever seen. His face is rugged, manly, with a sharp-cut jaw covered in a thick layer of stubble. He's probably around my age, early twenties, but looks nothing like the fresh-faced boys I knew from college.
"I can't just leave you like this."
"I'll be fine," he says through gritted teeth. "Just get outta here."
"Let me at least get you a clean towel. That one you're using is filthy. You're going to get an infection."
"Are you a nurse?" he asks, and I can't tell if he's being serious or being a smartass.
"I'm not a nurse but everyone knows that cuts have to be kept clean and I guarantee that rag you're using isn't clean."
"Trust me, I'm good." He walks back over to the car and picks up the wrench he dropped when I startled him, then tosses the rag aside and gets back to work under the hood of the car. His hair is wet and matted where the cut is bleeding.
I come up beside him. "I can't leave you with your head bleeding. I really think you need to see a doctor. You might need stitches."
"What are you doing here?" he asks as he reaches behind the engine to tighten something with the wrench.
"I came over to—wait, do you mean why am I here in town or why I am in your garage?"
"Either. Pick one."
"Okay, well, I'm here in town to go to grad school. I'll be staying at the house next door until I graduate."
"And then what?" He sets the wrench down and reaches back to undo a screw with his hand.
"Hopefully I'll get a job. I'm not sure where. I grew up in Colorado but I don't know if I'll go back there. My mom moved to California so I really don't have a reason to go back to Colorado although my friend, Jules, still lives there." I stop talking, realizing he doesn't want to hear my whole life story. I don't even think he's listening, his attention focused on loosening the bolts of whatever part of the car he's working on. I have no clue what he's doing. I know almost nothing about cars, although I do know how to change a tire.
"What about the old lady?"
"My grandma?"
"Your grandma, huh?" He huffs. "Makes sense."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
“You’re just like her. Nosing around in shit that's not your business? Not knowing how to leave people alone?"
I plant my hands on my hips. "I didn't come over here to get in your business. And I'd be more than happy to leave you alone given your deplorable attitude and acrimonious words."
He laughs to himself as he grabs the wrench.
"What's so funny?"
"Why the big words? Trying to show off? Show that you're smarter than me?"
"No! I just—" I take a breath. This guy is making me really angry, and it takes a lot to piss me off.
"Just what?" he asks, cranking on something with the wrench. It makes the muscles in his arms move, which is annoyingly sexy. Is it possible to loathe someone and be turned on by them at the same time?
"It's just that when I get mad I…" I'm too embarrassed to admit this. It's not really embarrassing but I know this guy will make fun of me for it so I'm choosing not to tell him.
"You what?" He cocks his head, looking at me with those gorgeous green eyes, a slight grin on his face. His smile is just as sexy as the rest of him. Just once, I'd like to meet a hot guy who isn't an ass.
"I'm not telling you," I say, folding my arms over my chest.
"Then I guess I'll just go with my original assumption that you use big words to show off how smart