I couldn’t say I wasn’t relieved when I got to work the next day

and only found Rip’s truck in the lot. Without Mr. Cooper’s car, I knew I wasn’t going to head inside and overhear them arguing after what happened the night before. Awkward. I wasn’t sure what was going on with him and Mr. Cooper lately, but things had seemed more tense than normal, and they hadn’t been that great to start with.

On the way over to CCC, I had considered trying to avoid Rip so that I wouldn’t give him a chance to tell me he’d changed his mind about going to San Antonio. Then I decided I wasn’t going to be that much of a chicken. Because if I was nervous, then he’d begin wondering why that was the case.

I made my way inside, dropped off my things like normal, then headed upstairs to start making coffee. I hadn’t spotted my boss slash future bodyguard on the way in, but I didn’t think anything of it. I couldn’t hear him in his office either, but there were a half-dozen places he could have been. I made both of our coffees then made my way down, finding him bent over the opened hood of the GMC truck he’d been working on. From what I could see, he wasn’t wearing a white shirt under the navy blue coveralls he had on. I was pretty sure it was… a gray one. Gray wasn’t a great color for his mood, but it wasn’t white.

So.

Act normal.

Don’t give him a reason to think twice about it.

“Morning, boss,” I called out, hopefully sounding normal.

He didn’t peek out while under the hood, but I did hear his low, nearly grumbled, “Morning.”

At least he’d replied. I’d take it.

“Leaving your coffee on the blue bench,” I told him as I was setting it down on one of the many tool chests along the wall.

There was a pause and then a “Thanks, Luna,” that didn’t sound as grumbled as his “morning” had come out. Maybe because it was the first time in forever that he hadn’t needed to ask if I had decided on a favor I wanted from him.

Maybe.

I took a step back and eyed the butt partially outlined beneath the baggy material of the coveralls he already had on. Just for a second. His shoulders and arms were so wide he had to squeeze into an extra-large that was baggy around the middle. I let myself look once more before basically yelling, “You’re welcome!” Asking him how the rest of his night had gone seemed like a terrible idea, so I didn’t ask. You didn’t storm out of the bar on your birthday and have a good rest of the night.

I managed to take maybe three steps backward and hadn’t even turned around to head back, when I heard, “Hold up a sec.”

I stopped in place. “Need something?”

Halfway hidden inside the car, he didn’t raise his voice as he said, “I want to talk to you about that Mustang you’ve got on the schedule. Hold off on it until I think through it some more. I’ll come down and tell you what to change later. All right?”

I hadn’t looked through the paperwork yet, but okay. “Okay. I’ll work around it.”

“’Kay,” he echoed from under the hood.

I made my way toward my room, holding my coffee and trying to remember what exactly I had to do. I was trying my best not to think about my grandmother. Or the funeral. Or going to San Antonio period. Or my sister’s graduation and how it meant the beginning of the end. Instead, I thought about how nice the evening had been after Rip had left. I’d had a good time with the Coopers and the two CCC employees that had eventually shown up.

So that was what I was going to try and do, and if it required me to zone out everything else going on in my life, well, I could do it.

I managed to make it into my room and open my drawer to pull out my files, finding the one I was looking for. It was a Mustang that I had put primer down on last week, but they had held off on me finishing it. That kind of thing happened often enough, I didn’t think anything of it.

Luckily, there was always something for me to work on. I went through the albums on my phone, picked out the Grease soundtrack and started my day.

 

I HAD JUST FINISHED WHAT I COULD FOR THE DAY WHEN I WENT LOOKING

for Rip.

“He left,” Miguel, one of my favorite coworkers, told me.

I blinked at one of the only two men at CCC who had been there almost as long as I had. “Where did he go?”

My coworker squinted an eye. “I think he went to the yard to look for some parts he couldn’t find.”

Figures.

His light brown eyes slid to the side before coming back to me, and he couldn’t hide the hesitation in his tone as he asked, trying not to make a face as he probably silently begged me not to take him up on his offer. “Want me to call him?”

I shook my head. Even if it wasn’t a huge difference, he was a little nicer to me than he was to the rest of the guys at the shop. Rip rarely cussed at me at least. But I still appreciated Miguel offering to take one for me. “It’s okay. I can call him.”

He didn’t even bother trying to hide his relieved sigh. “Let me know if you need help.”

“I will. Thanks, Miguelito.”

He grinned at the nickname I had taken from his wife one day a long time ago. With another smile aimed right at him, I headed back to my room and dialed Rip’s number from memory.

He answered immediately. “This is Rip.” “Hi, boss-man, it’s Luna—”

“Yeah?”

“Hey, I need to get started on that Mustang. What did you want to talk to me about?”

There was a male voice in the background on the other end of the line and it sounded like he was asking him something… “What?” Rip asked, aiming the question at me, after a moment.

“The Mustang. I’m calling about the Mustang.”

There was definitely some more irritation in his tone. “What about

it?”

I tapped my fingernails on the counter of the one and only desk in my

room. “You told me you wanted to talk about the Mustang this morning.”

There was more noise in the background, voices talking over other voices, and finally, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “So you don’t want to talk about it?”

There were more voices in the background, but after a moment he came back on the line. “I’m busy, Luna. Don’t you have enough to do?”

he snapped, making me pull the phone away from my face to look at it.

Good grief. Somebody was extra grumpy. This was exactly what I’d been anticipating from him after the night before. Sheesh.

“I guess not, boss,” I mumbled, still making a face at the phone before I brought it back to my ear. “I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page—”

He made one of those grunting sounds. And then he hung up on me.

Dropping the headset into the cradle, I shook my head and picked up the dumb file again. He made it seem like I’d been calling him for no freaking reason.

The sooner I got started, the sooner I could get it over with.

Maybe I could actually leave on time and get home early enough to call my sisters and tell them about Grandma Genie and the funeral. But part of me hoped I could put that phone call off a little longer too.

 

I HAD JUST CLOSED THE DOORS OF THE BOOTH AFTER PUTTING ON A

second coat of color on the Mustang when the door to my room swung open. My hand went to the top of my protective suit so I could drag down the zipper when Rip’s big body appeared, covered from collarbones to toes in his coveralls and work boots, which all should have been fine and normal but…

He had this expression on his face I had only seen maybe a few times before.

The last time had been the day of the Silver Mink color episode, aka way too recently.

“Hey,” I said to him, hearing the caution in my own voice. I even stopped dragging the zipper down right around my belly button.

His tone matched the death glare he was giving me. “What color did you paint the fucking car?”

I completely stopped trying to pull my suit off and watched as he stopped maybe five feet away, his jaw as hard as it usually was. “I think it said something Mist, but I can’t remember exactly. I ordered it two weeks ago….” I almost narrowed my eyes, trying to think over why he was standing there, looking at me like I’d just lost his lucky wrench.

His jaw moved to the side then the other side and his Adam’s apple bobbed. That deep line formed between his eyebrows and something that

was pretty close to hesitation made me totally quit moving and focus instead on the man standing a few feet away from me.

“Luna.”

Did it sound like he growled my name or was I imagining it? Of course I wasn’t imagining it.

When his fisted hand came up to his forehead, I knew he was definitely pissed over something. I just didn’t know what. I’d done exactly what he had asked for, hadn’t I?

“What color did you paint the fucking car?” he repeated slowly.

I pressed my lips together for a moment before answering, carefully, watching him the entire time, “The color that was on the order.”

Rip tipped his head back, showing me the long line of thick, muscular neck and perfectly proportionate Adam’s apple as he blew out a breath so rough it was impossible for me not to hear it. “Didn’t I—” he started to say before cutting himself off with a harsh grunt.

Didn’t he… what?

His voice got even lower. “Didn’t I tell you not to do anything to it until we talked?”

“Yes.” I narrowed my eyes, wondering what had gotten his panties in a bunch. I had reread that order three times to make sure I had it right. I’d even looked at the dates and checked on the computer system to make sure there hadn’t been any other orders written up for it since.

There hadn’t been.

So… “And I called you…” I trailed off, more confused by the second on why he was looking at me like he wanted to kill me again so soon.

Rip’s eyeballs didn’t move in my direction. His fist was still at his face. “Luna.”

Part of me knew it wasn’t time to joke, but… I still said it. “Ripley.”

Yeah, that had him moving his eyes back down to me somehow, that gaze shooting straight down his nose as his jaw got even tighter. Gritted. Pissed. “I’m not fucking playing right now,” he hissed down at me.

It was my turn to swallow. Even my poor little heart got tight at the pretty freaking uncalled-for expression he was aiming my way.

Rip was mad. At me.

So I blinked and wondered what the hell I had done to deserve it.

He must have been able to read my mind because he went off. “I asked you to talk to me about the car, didn’t I?” he snapped, his voice almost quiet but still so mad it caught me totally off guard.

I held my breath, and then I nodded because… well, he had.

But the thing was, I had tried to talk to him about it. I had called him. I just didn’t think it was the right time to argue that. From the way he was still looking down at me. I didn’t think that time was going to change anytime soon.

“Why would you paint the goddamn car after I told you I wanted to talk to you about it?” he griped, honestly, truly angry.

Still, I stood there.

He wasn’t going to hurt me or say anything I hadn’t heard before from a mouth I had loved.

So, I didn’t lie. Or bother trying to explain myself. I’d learned a long time ago that when certain people were mad, there was no reasoning with them. And Rip… he was being a jerk—a real jerk if I was going to be totally honest, because I had called him—but I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t worried. Not truly.

I stood there, my heart beating a little faster than it had been before, and told him the truth that wasn’t going to win me any more points. “I painted it because I called you to talk about the car, and you said you had no idea what I was referring to.” I kept my voice steady. “I did my job.”

I had.

His fingers went loose, and he swallowed again. “But I specifically fucking told you to wait for me to talk to you about it.”

I held my breath and didn’t move my gaze away from his face, not even for a second as I told him the same thing I already had. “I know, but I called you about it.”

Those white, white teeth flashed suddenly, and he hissed in that ugly, mean tone, “I didn’t want you to paint the fucking car that color, Luna!”

All right.

Everything was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was fine.

I finally let myself take a breath in through my nose and tried to keep my voice calm as I told him, again, like a dummy that didn’t know firsthand that you couldn’t get through to someone who was already mad, “But I called you—“

“I was fucking busy!”

I just… I just stood there, honestly, seriously, totally confused. What the hell was happening to him? It was one thing for him to be in a grumpy mood and gripe and be all condescending, but this?

Ripley looked at me and shook his head, his breathing choppy, going in and out of his nostrils. He dropped his hand then lifted it back up to the top of his head.

I didn’t move.

Rip shook his head, shook his hand out at his side and muttered in this crazy calm voice that I didn’t know what to do with. “Do it all over again.”

Do it all over again? Was this a joke?

I wasn’t a drama queen, and I didn’t get offended easily either, but all I could do was literally stand there.

What he was asking me to do…

I squeezed my eyes closed, squeezed my hands closed, and told myself that there was nothing to be upset about. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t get paid hourly. It wasn’t like this was going to hurt me.

Besides internally for getting blamed for something that wasn’t technically my fault.

At least I thought so.

And you screwed up not that long ago, my brain reminded me.

“Start on it now. I’ll find the paint sample and call in the order. I’ll get somebody to pick it up,” he said in that low, icy voice that I had zero affection for.

I didn’t say anything as I opened my eyes and just stared at him, indignation and I don’t know what else taking the breath and the fight right out of me.

He wanted me to start over again. He wanted me to repaint a project I had already been working on. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was blaming me.

We both knew I was right. Deep down he had to know I hadn’t been in the wrong. Because we both knew that I had called. It wasn’t my fault he hadn’t been paying attention or he’d been too distracted to tell me what he wanted.

It definitely wasn’t my fault that he’d been on a roll with his triggers and short temper.

But I didn’t call him out on that or say any of that to his face. He was my boss.

This was a job I didn’t want to lose, especially not over something that some subconscious part of me realized wasn’t worth being right over.

But that little part of me… that little Luna who’d gotten blamed for things she had nothing to do with… she wasn’t a fan of getting blamed for something that wasn’t anywhere near being her fault. I was tired of that.

But he was my boss.

My boss that was staring down at me, as I stared right back at him.

There was something going on with him. I knew it. This wasn’t like him. He couldn’t have hidden this kind of crazy for three years, and I had to understand it.

I bit the inside of my cheek and just went for it. What was he going to do? Yell at me some more? So I asked him, even though I wasn’t sure if this would just come back and bite me in the butt even more. “Rip, what’s wrong?”

Those teal eyes stayed zeroed in on me. His body almost too still, but he said, “You fucked up the car, Luna. What do you think?”

“That’s not what I meant.” His response was a glare.

So, we were back to that. Okay.

I wasn’t going to say anything about the dumb car. I knew he was wrong, he knew he was wrong, and something in my gut said that this, to a certain point, had nothing to do with the damn car he claimed to be so riled up about. But I had always struggled with leaving people alone, even though they might take their anger out on me, yet I still couldn’t keep my mouth closed.

I stood my ground. “I know you hate how much I try and joke with you, but if you wanted to talk about something, I would never tell anyone. Honest.” I blinked at him, lifting a shoulder. “I’m really good with secrets. No foolin’.”

He watched me, but he still didn’t respond. Those wide shoulders stayed tight. That mean expression stayed on his face, and this handsome, handsome man gave me nothing at all. Not a single thing.

I should have been used to it.

After a moment, he started to shake his head. “Start all over again” was all he said.

Then he turned around and walked out. Life was a choice.

You get to choose how you handle things. You get to choose how you deal with those things. You get to choose if a rose is beautiful or if its thorns are a menace to your fingers.

What I chose was to not let Rip ruin my day. I was going to choose to not stay mad or hurt over this.

So, I balled up my anger toward Rip and I threw it in the trash. He was my boss.

He was going with me to San Antonio, I was going to assume, and that was all that was going to matter to me. Something was wrong with

him, and I’d just had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or something like that.

Whatever had just happened hadn’t been my fault.

But he’d still been a jerk. An unfair jerk to be specific.

I had a job to do though. I had money that needed to be made. That’s what I had to do. Ripley wasn’t my friend and wasn’t trying to ever be my friend. He was my boss.

I accepted that with a sigh, and then I got to work.