Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 43 pt 2 🌶️

Emersyn

Before long, Cruz slows down, and we pull up to a building that looks like a garage. He turns off the engine, and we both dismount. The place is dark, but the outline of cars under tarps is just visible. I look at Cruz, curious.

"This is my mechanic garage," he says, as if sensing my confusion.

I'm surprised once again. "You have a garage? I thought you only worked with your construction business."

Cruz nods, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I opened this place up when I was still building up money for the construction business. I love working with my hands, and this place... it grew to be one of my favorite spots."

This goes to only show how much I still have to learn about these men.

I follow him inside, the smell of oil and metal greeting us. There's a sense of passion here, a personal touch.

Cruz tells me that sometimes he still comes in and works on cars with the guys he has running the place. I watch him as he speaks, seeing this new side of him.

"Why are we here?" I ask, glancing around the dimly lit space.

"Just needed to check on some paperwork before heading home," he answers, gesturing for me to follow him into a small office.

The office is simple: a desk with a computer, a few chairs, and a couch against the wall. I sit on the couch, draping the leather jacket across the arm rest, as I watch l Cruz walk to the desk. There's something about seeing him in this space, a place that's clearly his, that adds another layer to my understanding of him.

He starts going through some papers, and I find myself lost in thought. I watch him work, the way his hands move confidently over the papers, the focused look in his eyes. It's attractive, seeing him so in his element, so passionate about something he built from the ground up.

As he works, I can't help but think about the dynamics back at the house. Marx, Locke, Fowler, and now Cruz in this new light. Each of them is so different, yet they all come together to form this unconventional family we're a part of.

I get up from the couch, feeling the need to stretch my legs. As I walk around the small office, I take in every little detail. The walls are adorned with framed photos of classic cars and various automotive certificates. A shelf holds an array of model cars, each meticulously detailed. There's a personal touch to everything.

I notice a small plaque on the wall, an award for excellent service. It's dated back a few years, but it still shines, well-cared-for. This place isn't just a business for Cruz; it's a part of him.

On the desk, among the scattered papers, lies a greasy wrench and a set of keys. It's a stark contrast to the otherwise neat and organized space.

I continue to wander, my fingers tracing the smooth edges of the desk, the cool metal of the wrench.

Eventually, I make my way to the side of the desk where Cruz sits. He seems to have finished with his paperwork and is now just watching me.

Our eyes lock. There's a depth to his gaze, a warmth that seems to pull me in. Neither of us speaks, the silence between us comfortable, yet charged with unspoken words.

I am hopelessly falling in love with each of these men and I'm scared.

Without a word, Cruz gently takes my hand in his, pulling me down to sit in his lap. I don't fight it. I sit, feeling the strength of his body beneath me. Cruz wraps his arms around me. His breath is hot against my back as he buries his face in my shirt.