Page 42 of Happy Hour

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” He barked in a whisper pulling my hand away. “Did you know about this?” he motioned to Emma and Aidenstillmaking out.

I didn’t answer, just played with my broken branch, avoiding eye contact.

“You knew?” he asked incredulously attempting to get up. “How could younottell me?”

“Jesus Christ Jameson,” I yanked hard on his arm, he collapsed on my lap. “She’s twenty-one andin lovefor the first time, you get it.”

“Apparently, I don’t.”

I really couldn’t understandwhatthe big deal with all this was but he was adorable when he was mad. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Whatever.” He glared. “You should have told me.”

“Calm down.”

“No.” He huffed crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m mad.”

Emma and Aiden were still kissing so I needed to distract him.

I couldn’t believe I was resorting to this but I was. It was either this or poor Aiden wouldn’t be walking tomorrow.

“Would it help if I showed you my boobs?”

He was quiet for a moment before replying with, “Maybe.” He motioned with quick flip of his hand. “Show me and let’s see.”

Ashamed with myself, I flipped my shirt up and his eyes immediately light up like a kid in a candy store.

He was like a damn child.

Emma and Aiden finished there make out session and ventured inside so I could pull my shirt back down. It took some persuasive convincing on my part but eventually we made it to the shop to return the helmet andnotinside Alley’s house to kill Aiden.

No one was at the shop when we arrived, which surprised me. I figured there would be guys there working on the car since they are leaving for Pocono tonight.

When we entered the large warehouse looking building, Jameson turned on lights as went.

Once the fluorescents light up the main floor, I was in pit lizard heaven. That heaven was glorified when I saw his cup car parked by the bay door, ready to be loaded on the hauler.

I skimmed my fingers along the sharp line of the body, gliding over the black glossy paint. My fingers skated along with ease over the rear quarter panels, along the door, down the front quarter panel and against the hood with ease.

It was beautiful. I had a thing for race cars that either made me squeal with delight or horny.

I thought Jameson was in the office but he surprised me when his hands touched my hips, his fingers pressing lightly into my heated skin. “See something you like?”

How many times as I going to hear these exact words today?

“Maybe I do,” I began turning in his arms. My eyes scanned the shop when they settled on an engine perched on a hoist. “Isn’t that supposed to be in the car?”

Jameson looked over his right shoulder and then towards me again. “Yeah but the bearings are misaligned—they have some work to do on that one. I think it’s going back to grandpa’s shop tomorrow.”

I smiled knowing where this was going when he smirked. “What’s bearing alignment?”

Knowing damn well I knew what bearing alignment was, he was only playing along. “Well,” he began slowly pushing me against the side of the car. “When you have bearing misalignment, and an engine turning 9,000 RPM’s, that’s notgood. You see,” his fingers that were griping my hips trailed delicately up the curve of my body before cupping my cheek, his thumb brushed my lips. “All bearings have some internal clearance which can accommodate a certain amount ofthermal expansionand misalignment.” He pushed forward again, this time his hips showed his thermal expansion. “But when that clearance is fully consumed, then metal-to-metal impacting occurs with high dynamic stress...bearings fail.” His eyes searched mine hungry and glowing with desire.

Playing my part well, I asked, “So why so much focus on bearing alignment? I mean...I understand it’s not ideal, but what do the bearings do?”

Jameson’s smirk widened, he knew what I was doing. His head titled to one side, his eyes penetrating my very being with one look. “It keeps the camshaft moving with...ease.”

“And your camshaft; is it moving with...ease?”

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