Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

Four Years Later
I’M GONNA BE sick.
I hover over the sink, seeing Macon through the window. He paces
around the garage, working on my Bronco, and it seems like maybe I should
wait to talk to him. He’s already fixing my car for free. I’d hate to ask for
more.
A slap lands on my ass, and I yelp, spinning around. Dex squeals,
Cheetos crumbs all over his mouth, and then he runs away.
“Dex!” I growl as he disappears out of the Jaeger’s kitchen.
No manners, and why should he? I’ve only spent more time with him the
last four years than his aunt. He’s absorbed nothing that I’ve tried to teach
him.
I dust his crumbs off my jeans and blow out a breath, smoothing down
my hair. I’m more nervous to speak to Macon than I am to Liv.
I take a couple of more deep breaths, and swipe the corners of my mouth,
tidying up my lipstick, and head into the garage.
“Turn it up,” Macon calls out.
Army sits on the stool at the work table and reaches over, turning up the
radio. Some Type O Negative song plays, and I hover at the doorway for a
minute before I force myself down the steps.
“I’m not done yet,” Macon says to me.
He bends over the hood, twisting a wrench, and I stand on the other side,
shifting on my feet.