I want to return the favor to Elias, so I decide to surprise him at his shop for lunch. It’s safer to meet him there anyway, since I can’t really have him coming to city hall, and besides, I have fun with him. As much as I hate to admit it, he makes me feel good.

Feeling good with him is dangerous. I can’t let myself forget that. I’m pregnant with his child, with a child that shouldn’t exist because I was told that I couldn’t get pregnant. And now I’m in a horrible position, with no money and a baby inside of me and a handsome stranger that wants to get involved. I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t really know him, that he’s the song of the notorious mayor, and that he could seriously be bad news if I let him.

So it’s strange when I find myself walking into his shop, a pizza box in my hands. I figured pizza is the great equalizer, everyone loves pizza, and I’ve been craving it lately.

The front of the shop is empty. “Elias?” I call out, but I don’t hear anything. The door was open and the lights are on, but I don’t know where he is.

I put the box down on the front counter. “Elias?” I call out again. I hear something in the back, the clattering of a metal tool on the ground. I head toward it, biting my lip. “It’s Alexa. Are you back here?”

I step through the hallway and into the shop, and I take a sharp breath when I get a look at it. Stuff is absolutely everywhere. The place is a mess, bikes are tipped over and smashed, broken pieces litter the ground. It looks like Elias let an angry bull loose.

He steps out from behind one of the fallen bikes, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Hey,” he says. “You surprised me.”

“Sorry,” I say, staring around me. “What happened?”

He grins a little. “My fucking fathered happened.”

I cock my head at him. “The mayor did this?”

“Not exactly.” He stretches a little and sighs. “I assume you’re here to admit that I’d make a great father and to beg for me to stay in your life forever?”

I roll my eyes at him. “No. I did bring pizza, though.”

“Even better.” His smile is so genuine and disarming, and I can almost overlook the state of his shop.

But he breezes past me before I can press him. I find him back in the front room, opening the box of pizza and taking a bite of a slice.

“Good,” he says, chewing. “Just what I needed.”

“Oh god, can’t you get a plate? You don’t have to eat like an animal.”

“Sure I do, I am an animal. Hasn’t anyone told you yet?”

I sigh, but I’m smiling. I pick up a slice myself, fold it, and take a bite.

“See, being an animal’s great,” he says.

“Guess so.” I hesitate a second. “Are you going to tell me what happened back there, or am I going to have to guess?”

“Guess,” he says. “I’d rather not get into it.”

I sigh again, but I eat my pizza. He watches me for a second before glancing away.

He gets through two slices before I finish my first. He heads into the back shop and returns with two beers. I take one and hesitate before opening it.

“I’m technically working today,” I say. “Probably shouldn’t drink.”

“You work at city hall. I think that’s a pretty good reason to have a beer.”

I laugh and can’t really argue with that logic. He leans against the counter and sips it. I hold the beer up to my lips and then stop myself. For a second, I forgot that I’m pregnant. I know a little beer won’t do anything, but I decide not to chance it, putting the drink back down on the counter.

He notices, but he doesn’t comment, probably realizing his mistake.

“You know, it’s not usually this bad,” he says, changing the subject. “Honestly. You came at a bad time.”

“Is there ever a good time?” I ask him.

“Usually my workshop hasn’t been wrecked.”

“Good point, but I meant this.” I put my hand on my stomach.

He looks at me. “No, probably not,” he admits. “But there’s not a bad time, either.”

“Yeah, sure.” I sigh and close the pizza box. “Come on then. We’ve got a lot of work to do before I have to head back.”

He raises an eyebrow, and I head back into his workshop. I turn another light on and start straightening up without his permission. He stands in the doorway and watches me for a second, and I can tell he wants to say something. Instead, he walks over and silently joins me.

We work together like that. He bumps into me, grinning, and I bump him back. He talks quietly about where things go, what needs to be done, and the whole time we’re touching. It’s small touches, little nudges and such, hands lingering too long, that sort of thing, but it’s strangely intense. I find myself wanting him to throw me down right here in his workshop, but he doesn’t. We keep doing this little flirtatious dance we’re doing, cleaning up his space, touching each other, making eye contact. I know what he’s thinking, and he knows I’m thinking the same thing.

But he doesn’t go for it, which confuses me. “Why do you have so many tools?” I ask him after about fifteen minutes of this, just to get my mind off his hands on my naked skin.

“Lots of different little jobs,” he says. “Makes my life easier to have the exact tool for each one.”

I nod a little. “That makes sense. Complicated machines.”

“Right. And there’s also a bit of hoarding going on too.”

I laugh at that. “What’s with guys and collecting things?”

“Who knows,” he admits. “But hobbies are fun. They get the aggression out.”

I snort a little. “I could probably use a hobby then.”

“Got a lot of pent-up anger?” His smirk suggests he knows exactly what I need to help me out.

I glance away from him, because I think he’s right. “I guess so,” I admit. “Right now, at least.”

“I understand.” He slips a hammer back into the slot on the wall and turns to me, arms crossed. “I’d hate to add to that stress.”

I’m surprised by that. “I figured you’d want to try and relieve it.”

He smirks and comes closer to me. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” I say, but too quickly. His smirk gets bigger.

“I can do that for you,” he says softly. “I can take it away, make you feel good, like I did that night.” He stops inches away from me, and my back’s up against a bench. I can feel it pressed up against the back of my thighs, right under my ass. “Remember that?”

I nod a little. “I remember. Hard to forget, since that’s how I got pregnant.”

He chuckles, soft and low, but that doesn’t deter him. “I can do that and more. That was just a taste, up on the roof, and I seem to recall you really, really liked what I had to offer.”

He tips my chin toward him. A shiver runs down my spine. “How can you be so sure?”

“You’re still here,” he says simply. “You keep coming back.”

He stares at me for a second longer and I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he drops his hand from my face.

“I don’t want to add to your stress,” he says again. “But I want you and I want the baby.”

I take a sharp breath. “How can you be so sure?”

“I just am.” He shakes his head. “But look at this place.”

“It’s a mess,” I agree.

“For a reason, and that reason could make your life harder.”

I don’t know what he means by that, and I can tell it’s hurting him. There’s pain in his eyes, although all I feel is an overwhelming desire to take him up on his offer. I’ve been so pent-up, so angry, so stressed, and I think he really can relieve some of it. Maybe he thinks he’s dangerous and scary, and maybe he is, but right in this moment I just don’t care.

It almost scares me, how single-minded I feel. I want him to fuck me so badly that my teeth hurt just thinking about it. I’ve never felt this way about someone before, and maybe it’s my hormones or whatever, but I don’t think so. I think he just makes me feel this way, with his brooding eyes and his handsome face and muscular body.

He steps away and I let out a breath. I realize that I’d been holding it.

“Thanks for helping me,” he says, “but you should get back to work. Don’t want to keep the mayor waiting.”

I glance at the clock on the wall and he’s right. I have to be back in a few minutes, and even then I’m pushing it.

I hesitate a second, though. I feel like we’re not finished here. “Are you sure? I can help you straighten up some more.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’ll see you later.”

I sigh and nod. He watches me as I walk away and I can feel the unspoken thing still lingering in that room. That desire’s still there, but deflating now. I’m disappointed and my body’s still ringing with need for him, but it’s tempered somewhat by what he said in there.

He could be bad for me. I don’t know what that means, but clearly there’s a reason why his workshop is such a mess. Something happened… someone did this to him.

I can’t help but think it has to do with his father. The mayor’s been in the news more and more lately, and maybe that has to do with why Elias’s workshop is a mess. I don’t know exactly what’s happening, but I can see the links there.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe he is too dangerous. But as I walk out to my car, I’m not really sure if I care. All I know is I keep getting drawn back to him, even if I keep telling myself that I need to stay away. It’s the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me.

He makes me feel important, special. He makes me feel wanted.

Because he wants me, and he doesn’t try to hide it.

I get into my car, still troubled. At least he likes pizza. At least we have that much going for us right now.