Apples & Oranges (The This & That Series) Read Free Page A

seriously, my car’s broken down on Manito Boulevard, and I need a tow.”
                  He laughed. “That sucks.”
                  “Sure does.” This kid was getting on my nerves. Pressing my lips together, I glanced at his embroidered nametag. “So, Trey, do you think you could find someone to run out there and get it?”
              Trey put his hand on the edge of the truck and leaned back casually. It slipped, and he stumbled, then righted himself with a grin. “I might be talked into it.”
                  I tilted my head to the side. “Are you joking?”
                  Now, normally I enjoyed being flirted with as much as any girl—maybe even more—but today I wasn’t interested. Not only was this boy out of my preferred age bracket, but I was also an hour late getting back to work the day before a three hundred guest wedding. This was the last thing I needed, right now.
                  He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
                  Aggravation crept up the back of my sticky neck like a spider, so I put my hands on my hips and leaned closer to the kid. He gulped. “Listen up. I’ve got a dead car holding up traffic out there, and a business partner who will fillet me and serve me up with capers if I don’t get my ass back to work. Understand?” He nodded, so I went on. “So how’s about you call your tow truck guy and let me borrow a phone, m’kay?”
                  Trey furrowed his dark eyebrows at me. “You don’t have a phone?”
                  “I left it at a restaurant, okay?” I snapped, wiping my brow. “Seriously, would it kill you guys to air condition this place?”
                  “Too expensive,” growled a low voice from the back of the shop, making Trey stand up straight and tuck his hands into his pockets like a good boy. “There’s a recession going on. Or haven’t you heard?”
                  Snarling, I peered around the edge of the truck. “How long have you been over there?”
                  “Long enough.” There was a scraping sound as a creeper rolled out from underneath a Honda Civic. “Judging by those fancy shoes you threw away, I don’t imagine someone like you understands the concept of a recession.”
                  “Excuse me?” I snapped.
                  “That’s my uncle.” Trey’s voice cracked, and he covered it up with a cough. “We’re business partners.”
    There was a scoff from underneath the Honda. “Hey, Trey, why don’t you stop flirting with the woman and tell her whose name is on the lease?”
    Whoever it was under that Civic, he needed a throat lozenge. This uncle’s voice sounded like he’d been gargling with broken glass for a decade or so. With a labored (or was that annoyed?) sigh, a man stood up and ambled towards me.
    “Oh my,” I said under my breath, dropping my hair and smoothing down the front of my skirt.
    This guy was appealing. And by that, I meant straight shot of heat right to the center of my belly hot. He was tall, taller than me in a pair of four inch Jimmy Choo’s, which meant around six feet, and that was enough to make me want to turn a backbend right there on the cracked cement floor.
    “You are, Uncle Demo.” Trey pronounced the name like Thee-mo, the traditional Greek dialect rolling off his tongue like butter.
    Oh, they’re Greek?
    Demo sauntered towards me with a scowl. His dark eyes were hooded with thick black eyebrows, and a salt-and-mostly-pepper five o’clock shadow decorated the bottom half of his face. His dark hair, peppered with silver strands above the ears, was dampened at the nape of his tanned neck and stood in all directions. His coveralls were undone down to his waist, then tied in a knot at his hips, and all that he wore on the top half of his body was a tight white wife beater that