the back of my knee, buckling my legs, that I snap out of it. “I thought you weren’t into her breed ,” Boone says.
“I’m not. It’s just . . .” She disappears from sight. Is that really her? It’s got to be her, but how are my mystery woman and Viktor’s trophy wife one and the same? “Shut up and open the bay. I’ve gotta test this.”
Shaking his head, he reaches up to slap the button on the wall.
“Gotta admit, it’s impressive,” Boone says to the group standing under the car, staring up at the gaping crack in the muffler.
Tabbs doesn’t look impressed. “Was the broad off-roading through the ass-splittin’ mountains? How in the hell did she manage this?”
“It’s a low car. She probably punched a speed bump,” I offer as I pass by, the Enclave’s keys swinging around my index finger. Miller likes us to report in as soon as the work is done.
“Well, we need a new part and we won’t get it in today. She may as well go home. Hey, kid!” Tabbs hollers, and I know he’s talking to me. “Let her know, seeing as you’re going that way?”
I was hoping he’d ask.
“And watch your manners.”
I shoot him a glare on my way to the sink to scrub the dirt and oil off my hands. The lounge is the only truly clean room in the entire shop and everyone, including Miller, gets pissy if there’s so much as a fingerprint left on any of its white surfaces.
I push through the service doors and into the brightly lit hall as a ball of nerves hits me. Which girl am I going to get when I walk in there? The stony gold-digger from The Cellar or the sweet kissing bandit from the side of the road? She may not even recognize me from the club. In my mechanic’s coveralls, I sure don’t look like I did that night.
Rounding the corner to enter the spacious lounge, fully equipped with leather chairs, a flat-screen television, and inspirational pictures of mountains, I see her sitting in a chair with her jacket and heels off and her bare feet pulled under her ass. She’s twirling the end of her ponytail in her fingers, her long, blood-red nails such a contrast against her pale hair.
She’s relaxed and casual, her attention focused on a textbook.
“You’re muffler’s mangled.” I didn’t inherit my mom’s bedside manner, like my sister, Amber, did. I figure this is as good an opener as any.
She must have been deeply engrossed in her studies because she jumps at my voice. The textbook slips off her lap and lands on the ground. I feel her staring at me as I stroll over and pick it up, silently praising myself for spending extra time on washing my hands. The last thing I want to do is be the dirty mechanic who left grease marks on all her stuff.
When I lift my gaze again, I sense recognition in her eyes. But does she really recognize me? I match her stony expression with one of my own. Two can play at this game. “ Anatomy and Physiology ?” I read out loud, handing the textbook back. “My favorite.”
Finally, a small smile touches her lips. “Maybe you can tutor me.” So she has a sense of humor. That or she’s propositioning me.
Remembering Tabbs’s warning and who her husband is, I clarify, “I know engines, not science.”
“Mechanics is a science to some degree,” she counters, setting the textbook down on her lap, closed. “You have to fix cars made by all those manufacturers, all designed differently. Not everyone can do that.”
I know that she’s paying me a compliment, but I don’t take compliments well. So, I do what I always do. I play it off. “Are you saying Boone is smart, then? Because there’s a garage full of guys out there who may argue with you on that one.”
She grins at that. A real, dimple-cheeked grin that makes her eyes sparkle as she watches me. And then a long, lingering silence hangs between us.
I clear my throat. “What are you going to school for?”
“Nursing. It’s my first year.”
“Huh. Really?” When her perfect, thin eyebrows shoot up,
“I’m not. It’s just . . .” She disappears from sight. Is that really her? It’s got to be her, but how are my mystery woman and Viktor’s trophy wife one and the same? “Shut up and open the bay. I’ve gotta test this.”
Shaking his head, he reaches up to slap the button on the wall.
“Gotta admit, it’s impressive,” Boone says to the group standing under the car, staring up at the gaping crack in the muffler.
Tabbs doesn’t look impressed. “Was the broad off-roading through the ass-splittin’ mountains? How in the hell did she manage this?”
“It’s a low car. She probably punched a speed bump,” I offer as I pass by, the Enclave’s keys swinging around my index finger. Miller likes us to report in as soon as the work is done.
“Well, we need a new part and we won’t get it in today. She may as well go home. Hey, kid!” Tabbs hollers, and I know he’s talking to me. “Let her know, seeing as you’re going that way?”
I was hoping he’d ask.
“And watch your manners.”
I shoot him a glare on my way to the sink to scrub the dirt and oil off my hands. The lounge is the only truly clean room in the entire shop and everyone, including Miller, gets pissy if there’s so much as a fingerprint left on any of its white surfaces.
I push through the service doors and into the brightly lit hall as a ball of nerves hits me. Which girl am I going to get when I walk in there? The stony gold-digger from The Cellar or the sweet kissing bandit from the side of the road? She may not even recognize me from the club. In my mechanic’s coveralls, I sure don’t look like I did that night.
Rounding the corner to enter the spacious lounge, fully equipped with leather chairs, a flat-screen television, and inspirational pictures of mountains, I see her sitting in a chair with her jacket and heels off and her bare feet pulled under her ass. She’s twirling the end of her ponytail in her fingers, her long, blood-red nails such a contrast against her pale hair.
She’s relaxed and casual, her attention focused on a textbook.
“You’re muffler’s mangled.” I didn’t inherit my mom’s bedside manner, like my sister, Amber, did. I figure this is as good an opener as any.
She must have been deeply engrossed in her studies because she jumps at my voice. The textbook slips off her lap and lands on the ground. I feel her staring at me as I stroll over and pick it up, silently praising myself for spending extra time on washing my hands. The last thing I want to do is be the dirty mechanic who left grease marks on all her stuff.
When I lift my gaze again, I sense recognition in her eyes. But does she really recognize me? I match her stony expression with one of my own. Two can play at this game. “ Anatomy and Physiology ?” I read out loud, handing the textbook back. “My favorite.”
Finally, a small smile touches her lips. “Maybe you can tutor me.” So she has a sense of humor. That or she’s propositioning me.
Remembering Tabbs’s warning and who her husband is, I clarify, “I know engines, not science.”
“Mechanics is a science to some degree,” she counters, setting the textbook down on her lap, closed. “You have to fix cars made by all those manufacturers, all designed differently. Not everyone can do that.”
I know that she’s paying me a compliment, but I don’t take compliments well. So, I do what I always do. I play it off. “Are you saying Boone is smart, then? Because there’s a garage full of guys out there who may argue with you on that one.”
She grins at that. A real, dimple-cheeked grin that makes her eyes sparkle as she watches me. And then a long, lingering silence hangs between us.
I clear my throat. “What are you going to school for?”
“Nursing. It’s my first year.”
“Huh. Really?” When her perfect, thin eyebrows shoot up,
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