When she heard the tell-tale click of the door locking behind him, she let out a shuddering breath. What had she done? Exactly what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to regret what had happened, but she was troubled by what it could mean. Before too long Jason was back with coffee. He handed her a cup and climbed onto the bed sitting behind her. his legs on either side of her, pulling her back into his arms. Sweeping her hair up on top of her head and with his hands he ran his lips over her now exposed shoulders and trailed gentle kisses along the back of her neck. She felt herself melting, how did he do this to her? She was a quivering mess in his arms, barely able to speak. ‘I’m going to take you home today.’ Startled, she pulled away and turned to look at him, her eyes wide with shock. ‘Later, when it gets dark.’ He added thoughtfully. He met her stare. ‘Well don’t look so surprised, I can’t keep you here forever.’ He met her stare.. Especially the people around Squinosha, who thought only Mexican gangsters drove around in low riders. With the three of us in the shop, well it was kind of hard for Mr. Wetland to say no, especially when Low Rider magazine decided to cover the build. Scott, who's pretty good at the public relations stuff, had called somebody, although he wouldn't admit it."We gotta fix all this shit. Fuck!" Mark said loudly, measuring the cuts and welds that some of the other guys had made the day before. David was working with The Boz and he looked over at us from across the shop, but that's all. He worked on the truck on Tuesdays and that's when he was usually swearing up a storm."How bad?" I asked, meaning did they cut too much? Or not enough. The truck wasn't any more than a framework as it sat there. Everything had been taken off of it and we were going to fabricate a new body anyway, since the old panels and stuff would never fit again, not after we were done with it."Bad enough," Mark told.
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