This huge man reared back and blinked, his hand getting tight and his voice going hoarse. “Not like you?”

Be strong. You can handle anything, Luna.

I nodded. “We can call it whatever you want. I’m fine with it, Mr. Ripley. You’re not the first person to dislike me or not want me around. It’s fine.”

He let go of my hand so quickly I didn’t have time to react before the man in front of me cut the distance between us so much there was no distance.

That big hand that had been right by my face moved like lightning, his palm cradling the back of my head. Before I could finish my sentence, before I could even suck in a breath, Lucas Ripley dipped his face close to mine. “I don’t dislike a single fucking bone in your body, Luna.”

And cue my mouth shutting and probably my eyes bugging out too.

“You drive me fucking nuts—”

“That’s not very nice,” I said before I could stop myself.

I didn’t miss the way his eyebrows shot up. “Let me finish, yeah?”

I shut my mouth.

“But I miss the fuck out of you, messing with me all the damn time, provoking me way too much, always fucking laughing and smiling and being a pain in my fucking ass.” What had to be his little finger grazed the nape of my neck as I stood there. “I said some mean shit to the one person in this fucking world that—”

He stopped, and if it wouldn’t have been for his Adam’s apple bobbing, I wouldn’t have realized he was struggling with his words. Struggling with whatever he was trying to tell me. Confusing the freaking hell out of me.

“You. I would never want to hurt you,” he breathed, beaming me with that intense gaze. “Not for nothing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I knew your family, but I didn’t exactly want you to know how or why I did either. You get me?”

Just as I opened my mouth, his hand moved around and his thumb landed over my lips, shutting me up.

“I swear to Jesus Christ if you say something about work or about how you won’t fucking quit, I’ll close your mouth my own goddamn self in another way,” Rip told me.

That had me shutting my mouth.

That had my heart going whack, whack, whack, what the hell is happening?

“What?” was all I could crow.

“I don’t give a single fuck how many other companies offer you jobs, or how happy you are at the shop. Me and the old man wouldn’t let you go anywhere,” he said, his gaze intent.

“I just said I don’t want to go anywhere in the first place…,” I muttered, trying my best to ignore how fast my heart was going because of the way he was looking at me.

At the way he was even just talking to me.

Rip’s cheeks twitched, and his voice was even lower as he whispered, “Good.” The pinky he had on the back of my neck moved across the skin there lightly, just grazing it. “I don’t want you leaving me alone. I was pissed and you were there, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I don’t want to hurt you. You hear me?”

I did and I didn’t.

I was there and, like always, I was an easy target. That was nothing new.

But I knew words held an edge of truth to them always.

I also knew that I had been right in thinking that I had wasted my time mooning over this man who would never be more than my boss. He did feel bad, and that was nice, but that was it. That was all. I had given him the tools he used to hurt me.

And I really was tired of hurting, but that was on me. I just wanted to move past this.

Warm, sweet breath washed over my face as he leaned in even closer to me. Bringing him so close I had to hold my breath. “You forgive me for fucking up?”

Did I?

I only had to pause for a moment before I knew my answer. “Sure.”

“Sure?”

I nodded and that got me a slow, wary blink.

“We good?”

I nodded again.

The finger on my neck was light as his eyes moved from one of mine to the other and back again. I could still feel his breath on my face. I could feel his entire palm on the back of my head.

“We over this ‘Mr. Ripley’ bullshit?”

I didn’t say a word in response to that, mostly because I did forgive him—Rip was shades of black and gray and white, and so was his relationship with Mr. C—but that didn’t change my own reality. My own truth.

Plus, I didn’t want to lie.

I wasn’t sure I was done with the “Mr. Ripley” bullshit. It would help me cope. It would remind me of my hard-earned lesson.

And something about that had his face clouding over. His eyes narrowing, moving from one of mine to the other like he knew—knew—what I was thinking. “I don’t dislike you. Not a little, not at all. How many times do I gotta say that to get it through your head?”

My chest ached as I looked up into that handsome, handsome face.

But I remembered.

I would remember what he said for a very, very long time.

“I forgive you, Rip, I really do. I can’t imagine the stress you were under, and I appreciate that you feel bad for what you said. You had no idea I couldn’t care less that you knew what I did before I told you. But I never thought you would tell me to leave you alone. That you would push me away, and that’s what hurt me. Because I grew up being told to leave people alone. I want you to be happy, and I want to be happy too. And none of this lately has been doing that. It just makes me sad. So I think we’re better off just keeping things the way they always should have been. Like you’re my boss, and I paint your cars for you, and that’s it.”

Chapter 28

The next morning, I dropped my bags—filled with my food, my phone, and all my extra crap I brought with me every day—on the floor right by the door.

Because sitting there at seven in the morning, on top of my desk in a small glass jar, with a white ribbon wrapped around the stem, was a bright orange rose.

Just… sitting there.

Just waiting.

For me?

There was only one person in the building who could have put it there.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind.

He’d upped his game from bringing me donuts to… a flower. A flower that made my throat tighten up even as I told myself that I knew why he’d done it.

Because of the guilt.

The first flower anyone had ever bought me was because of guilt.

I had to let out a deep breath at that.

I had told him—hadn’t I told him?—that I wanted to go back to us being what we should have been from the beginning?

I had told him. And here he was making things complicated, giving my brain ideas that I had to throw in the trash before I thought about them. Here he was just… messing with me. Trying to pull me into a place that I didn’t want to be anywhere close to anymore.

I should have let it go, or should have pretended I didn’t see it, but…

I didn’t do that.

I was tired. And worn out. And just… freaking tired.

Just like I dropped my stuff, I left it there and walked right back out of my room. One foot in front of the other. One step in front of the other. Taking me closer and closer. I barely cleared the hallway into the main part of the building when I spotted Rip standing by the tool chest, rifling through the drawers.

I wasn’t sure why my heart started picking up speed, but it did. With each step, it got faster and faster, despite my brain telling it that it needed to calm down. It meant nothing.

It was a nice, but forced and completely unnecessary, gesture.

And I didn’t want him to waste his time doing it again.

“Mr. Ripley,” I called out, knowing I shouldn’t after our conversation yesterday, but also not backing down from the promise I had made myself.

He glanced up immediately, shooting me that laser-like gaze. Today, he had on a navy blue compression shirt, and his coveralls were already on. The thing that caught me off guard was the fact that he didn’t look annoyed at me calling him the m-word. What he did look was too calm. Way too easygoing.

Even though I was positive enough he’d left the flower, I was going to punish myself by asking anyway. “Did you leave that rose in my room?”

He straightened from where he’d been slightly bent over the tool chest. His expression stayed that eerie calm one. He answered in the way I knew he would: directly. “Yeah.”