Page 1 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

CHAPTER ONE

Aurora

The universe hasa cruel sense of humor.

I had been in Medford for exactly thirteen minutes before my Jaguar F-Type sputtered, choked, and died in the middle of the one-stoplight town.

Gripping the steering wheel, I exhaled slowly. “Of course.”

It wasn’t enough that I’d been forced to take time off from my job—the job I had worked my ass off for—to deal with an inheritance I never asked for. No, the universe had to up the stakes by stranding me in the exact place I’d never thought I’d find myself.

I glanced at the dashboard, half expecting it to magically come back to life if I just stared hard enough.

No such luck.

“Great.”

A quick check of my phone confirmed what I already suspected—no service. Because, of course, this place was still stuck in the dark ages.

A tap on my window made me jump.

“Car trouble?”

I turned, and my frustration deepened at the sight of not one, but three men standing outside my car.

Brothers. I could tell instantly.

The same strong jawline, the same broad shoulders, the same air of confidence that suggested they could fix just about anything and would probably be insufferable while doing it.

Matching shirts with “Grady’s Auto Repairs” stitched over the pocket made it pretty clear where that confidence came from.

The one closest to me—tall, dark-haired, and annoyingly handsome—tilted his head and smirked. “Need a hand?”

I rolled down the window just enough to be heard but not enough to let in whatever small-town charm they were trying to sell.

“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s probably just overheated.”

The smirk deepened. “That right?”

The one to his left—slightly taller, blue-eyed, and clearly the calmest of the three—crossed his arms. “You should pop the hood. We can take a look.”

I hesitated.

I had no reason to trust them, but my choices were limited, and standing here all day waiting for a tow truck that may or may not exist in this town wasn’t exactly appealing.

With a sigh, I popped the hood and climbed out of the car.

“Thanks,” I said begrudgingly.

“Don’t sound too excited,” the third one—younger, blond, and cocky as hell—murmured, his green eyes glinting with amusement.

The first brother, Smirking Mechanic, chuckled and leaned under the hood.

“You're new in town,” the calm one observed.

I crossed my arms. “Just passing through.”

“Huh.” He exchanged a look with the others. “Most people don’t just pass through Medford.”

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