Page 1 of Until Ireland

Chapter One

Mack

“You sure about this place?”I pulled the mirrored aviators from my face and stared up at the aged garage, phone in hand, while I questioned Gareth. The corrugated steel and cinderblock design gave off a retro ambiance. I got out of my SUV and stood before the building, taking in the space. Out of the three vehicles parked off to the side, the custom Triumph caught my eye first, then the primer’57 Chevy pickup, and finally, the Harley. The building, though small, had four bays. The two on the farthest end were occupied, along with one to the left of where I waited. The front end of a rusted ‘71 ‘Cuda faced me. “It’s a bit... It doesn’t scream luxury certified mechanic.”

Gareth laughed. “I’m telling you, Mack, they’re good.” On the way back from the auction, I’d stopped by his shop to drop off the ’65 Aston Martin DB5 for repairs. Unfortunately, Gareth was slammed, but he’d given me the address for Banks Automotive. He continued, “I wouldn’t have sent you to them if I didn’t think they could handle the issue.”

According to the auction house, the Aston Martin’s transmission was slipping, and the engine needed a few minor tweaks. However, the book in the glovebox showed the car had been maintained. When it came time to bid on the car, the defects allowed me to underbid what the vehicle was worth, which my client also appreciated. Nonetheless, standing outside the rundown building, I had my doubts about the shop.

“You owe me if they fuck up my car.” Asking price for a restored DB5 started at two million and some had gone for more than six million. As it stood, after paying for the fees and to have it fixed, I’d be making two-hundred and seventy-five thousand on commission. I couldn’t allow this deal to fall through because the mechanic didn’t know what they were doing.

Gareth blew out a breath. “Fine. Whatever they fuck up, I’ll fix for free.”

I frowned, pulling the phone away from my ear. Was he serious? The repairs, though minor, would still cost me at least twenty grand, if not more. No way I’d take that kind of deal, especially from Gareth. The man was supporting his family.

“Sure. You’re on,” I responded. Even if he lost the bet, I’d pay him to fix the vehicle, no matter what Gareth said. “Anyone in particular I should ask for?”

“Nope. Go on inside. I know you’re standing there staring a hole through the place.” Someone in the background, probably his uncle, called his name. “Look, have I ever steered you wrong before?”

No, he hadn’t. If anything, he’d always been straightforward and upfront about every part and priceandhow long it would take to fix a vehicle. However, I had a keen eye for appearances. It was what made me a successful restaurateur and luxury auto dealer.

“Great.” I took a step forward and heard the clank of a tool hitting the concrete floor. “Have I told you how much I appreciate your assistance?”

Gareth laughed again. “Don’t be a dick. Though for you it’s hard not to be.”

I mentally flipped him off, ending the call.Asshole.

Before heading inside, I took a look around the building and noticed the area was dirt-free. Though the lots on either side of the structure were empty, none of the overgrown grass touched the property. There weren’t any oil stains or busted engines left on the ground to rust away either. As much as I had my reservations about the business, I gave them credit where it was due. They kept the place clean.

Well, no time like the present.I walked over to the door and opened it.No Doubtblared from the speakers, and I took a step back, surprised by the music choice. The smell of grease and oil assailed me, and a sense of calm washed over me. It transported me back to a time when I was little, sitting on my granddaddy’s knee while he took apart an old carburetor on his kitchen table. My step-grandmother would bitch about it, but he’d pat my shoulder and tell me not to pay her any mind, which pissed her off more. He muttered about the shitty quality of the parts with the newspaper laid out below the carburetor, streaked in burnt oil and grease, and surrounded by piles of bolts and gaskets meant to be replaced. The more he tinkered, the headier the scent of raw gasoline mixed with his aftershave became. The odor still lingered in my memory some thirty years later.

I might not be a wrench turner, but I had a deep appreciation for the work my grandfather put into everything he did. It calmed the old man and also gave me time to get to know him. I hadn’t realized I missed those moments until I stepped into the office of the shop.

The music came to an end, and another girl power song filled the small area. My lip curled asCheryl Lloyd’svoice screamed the chorus.Jesus, where did Gareth send me? Hell?The walls of the office were done in hard wood, not that cheap paneling shit either. Real, two-by-sixes varnished in a dark walnut added to the vintage look of the building. Old oil and gas signs covered the side walls while a part organizer board took up the back of the office. The outlines for hoses, belts, and tools were faded, but they gave the space a certain charm. Above the board was a shelf with old oil cans. A sigh of frustration caught my attention, stopping my perusal of the shop, and my gaze locked on the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her red hair had been tied up under a black bandana, and short flame-colored strands brushed the back of her neck. Her skin was flawless, like fine porcelain.

I took a step forward toward the counter and cleared my throat. “Excuse me.”

“Fuck,” she muttered. “I know I ordered it. It should be in here. Where the fuck did it go?” She spread two different bills of lading across the desk. A narrow rectangular box sat between her legs while she counted the small parts on the desk in front of her. “They’re not all here. I swear, if Landon is messing with me, I’m going to kick his ass.” She tucked her ruby red bottom lip between her teeth. Tension snapped at my spine. My gut clenched with arousal, and I bit back a groan.

No one had ever affected me like this.

“Excuse me?” I said, desperate for her to look up at me while growing irritated she wasn’t paying attention.

Her stunning green eyes locked with my gaze, and all of the spit in my mouth dried up.B-O-Fucking-O-M.I thought it was an old wives’ tale, bullshit the Maysons said when they met their significant others. Now, standing there, my heart pounding and my dick reminding me just how long it’d been since I’d gotten laid, I wondered if theBoomwasn’t just some story after all. A smudge of grease marred her cheek, but her coveralls were immaculate as were her fine boned hands. Speaking of those coveralls, they did nothing to show off her figure, which made me want to rip the offending garment from her and sneak a peek of her lithe form.

She stared at me. “Can I help you?” She dropped her gaze back to the papers in front of her.

I bit back a growl of impatience. “Is the owner in?” I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, grasping at the tattered edges of my control. Every inch of my body tensed. I wanted to jump over the counter and force her to focus on me.

“Sure,” she said. Then added, “Ah ha! I knew it.” She continued to grumble under her breath as she put the pieces back into the box before adding the shipping papers. “I swear that’s the last time we use them. Strike three, they’re out.”

“Where can I find the owner?” I prodded. I needed to off-load the Aston Martin and pay the driver. “You know, if you’re not busy or anything, I could use some help here.”

Her gaze snapped to mine, and her ruby lips compressed. Good, maybe I’d pissed her off. “What can I do for you?” She folded her hand on the desk and fluttered her eyes. Her cool tone did nothing to tamp down the raging need to bend her over the desk and fuck the sass out of her. In the few minutes I’d been there with her, she’d crawled under my skin, turning me inside out.

“Yeah. The owner? Where can I find him?” I’d thought I’d been pretty clear about who I needed to talk to.

Humor shadowed by annoyance lit her brilliant green eyes. “What can I do for you?”

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