Page 88 of Suits and Spark Plugs

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The next day I had a blueberry muffin on the drive to work, exhausted after a night of praying that my parents could find a way to separate without too much hurt. The truth was that I still didn’t fully understand relationships. The ebb and flow, push and pull nature of them remained a mystery. All I really had was hope. Hope that the right things would fall into place.

After work I stepped out into the sunny world and took a deep breath. It was a gorgeous May afternoon. Flowers had finally decided to really bloom, and there was almost no real chill left in the breeze. It felt like a day for spontaneity, so I decided to drop in on Connor and see if he minded me studying for a while before I went home, even though the shop was still open. A zing of excitement tickled my spine as I jumped in my car and drove the block or so to his shop.

When I arrived the bay doors were open, letting air in. I could hear the sounds of rock music playing, but it wasn’t loud enough for me to recognize exactly what the song was. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and, bypassing the lobby, headed to where I could see auburn hair sticking up over the raised hood of a car. That feeling of anticipation washed over me, making my feet move faster. Too fast, because I tripped over a wrench, and the clanging sound announced my presence.

Connor stepped to the side, and his face lit when he saw me. His coveralls were a dark navy blue today, which made his freckles and light eyes stand out even more than usual. He reached into his back pocket for that clean rag he always kept handy and wiped his hands.

“Hey there,” he said as he started walking toward me. “Always entering with a bang.” His voice was warm, and it was exactly the reception I’d been hoping for.

I met him in the middle of the shop, and rather than say anything I simply smiled up at him, taking it all in. I was so happy to be there and even happier to be wanted. His smile grew under my watch, and he tugged lightly on a curl next to my ear.

“What brings you my way?” he asked after a heartbeat.

I shook my head and blinked a few times. “I just got off work and was hoping you wouldn’t mind me studying here for a while before I go home.”

“You bet. Do you want to study out here or in the office?”

I was caught off guard by the question. “Is out here an option? Is there, like, an insurance law or something about that?”

“Probably. But I own the place, so...”

At that brilliant reasoning, I nodded, wanting suddenly to be wherever he was, which was the entire reason I’d come here in the first place even though I hadn’t thought that much about it. “Out here sounds nice, actually.”

“Let’s get you a chair.” He turned and strode into the lobby.

For the hundredth time I found myself watching the way he moved and being mesmerized. Everything about him spoke of a man confident and content within himself. Plus, he wasn’t bad to look at. I knew not everyone would appreciate the color of his hair, or his freckles. In fact he’d probably been teased mercilessly about them as a child before his hair had darkened in adulthood, but I found myself constantly fascinated by it.

He came back with the over-sized desk chair from the office, and I grinned while shaking my head. His eyes caught mine and he smiled too. “Here’s your throne, princess.”

“I accept your offering, kind sir,” I joked as he rolled it to the side of the car he’d been working on.

“I think this will work over here. You’re a few feet away from the action, so you should be safe.”

“Should be?” I moved to where he’d put the chair and hooked my backpack over it.

“I’ve met you. I don’t think I can make any guarantees.”

“Are you sure I shouldn’t be bubble wrapped first?” I cracked.

“Do I have any grease on my face?” he asked.

I tilted my head to the side, confused by the question. “Um, nope.”

“Oh, good.”

He closed the space between us and leaned down, bringing his lips softly against mine. He didn’t touch me anywhere else, aware that he was filthy from his work, but I reached forward and wrapped my hands around his wrists, wanting to touch him and have his steadiness sooth my worry. He’d intended it as a sweet greeting, and after a few seconds I felt him start to pull away, but I pushed up onto my toes to maintain contact, wanting to stretch it out for another moment, enjoying the sudden race of my heart and the way that bright yellow flared up behind my lids.

He pulled away, but gently. “Livy,” he said “What...”

I kept my eyes closed and interrupted him. “I know, we’re in public, and it’s your business.”

“I care more about what’s got you upset.” He was still close enough that I could feel his breath on my forehead. He smelled of cinnamon.

I opened my eyes, released his wrists, and looked up to him. “My dad called and my mom is acting strange and I thought things were getting better, but now I don’t know what to think, and I’m not sure how I can hope to be happy while they aren’t.”

His nodded, his eyes concerned. “I see.”

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