Page 23 of The Mechanic's Virgin

GRACE

The garage isloud and greasy and hot, and I actually love it.

I love that it’s an environment I’m not used to. One that isn’t all designer clothing and ornate woodwork and men in suits coming in and out daily to see my father.

None of my friends would ever think a girl like me–raised in cashmere and silk and overly stuffy country clubs–would feel more at home in a mechanic’s workshop than at my father’s mansion. But as I sit here on an old stool, watching Nash work on my car with his sleeves rolled up, with oil smudged all over his hands and muscular arms, I feel at peace. I feel happy.

I’m also turned on. Especially when he stands up to wipe the sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt, giving me a peek at his ridiculously sculpted abs and that sexy V that pierces down into his jeans. How can one man bethis sexy?

“Yeah, that’s right,” I say to Emily, my cell to my ear. “The guy from the other night thatwasn’tArthur. I’m with him now.”

“The one who said ‘watch your mouth around the lady?’” she asks.

I try not to laugh out loud as I nod. “Yup, that’s him.”

“Wow, you move fast, don’t you?”

“Trust me, Emily. He’s amazing.” Nash glances over his shoulder at me, not because he is listening to what I’m saying, but just because. He smiles, and my heart warms. “He’sthe one,Emily. I already know it.”

Emily pauses, and I can picture her face on the other end of the call, shocked and twisted up, wondering if I’ve lost my mind. “And you guys…”

“What?” I ask, twirling a strand of hair around my pinky finger. I know exactly what she’s getting at.

“You know,” she presses me. “You guys…”

“Did it?” I laugh. “Yes, we did. So many times. I can feel the effects when I walk.”

Emily bursts out laughing. “Okay, TMI, Grace. TMI.”

I bite my lip and glance at Nash as he does something under the hood of my car. I have no clue what–maybe it has to do with that timing belt thing or whatever–but he looks so hot doing it. And that’s what really matters.

God, I’m thinking like a total dude-bro right now, aren’t I?

“I’m happy for you,” Emily says. “But we need to all have dinner or something so I can get to know him.”

“Sounds great,” I reply. “Speaking of which, how did you and the cowboy guy work out?”

Emily scoffs. “Don’t ask. Listen, I gotta go. Talk later?”

“Okay. See ya!”

I hang up and take a sip of the lemonade Nash brought me earlier. It’s ice-cold, offsetting the heat of the shop. He keeps glancing over his shoulder at me, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he doesn’t have his eyes on me every second–or that I’ll break if he doesn’t dote on me constantly. Which is funny, considering what we have been doing for the last two days. On the workbench, his bed, in the kitchen…

By now, he should know that I can take it.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” Nash calls out. His smile goes straight into my chest. God, what a man.

“I’m doing just swell,” I smirk, hamming it up for him. “How goes the car?”

“We’re just about finished,” he replies, glancing at Craig, who’s got a big wrench or something in both hands. “You good on the torque there? Don’t go breaking off any bolts and causing us more problems.”

Craig chuckles. “We’re good, boss.”

Nash raises both hands triumphantly, slides into the car, and twists the key, and the engine springs to life. This time, without any of the sketchy sounds it was making before.

I hop to my feet. “You know what? I’m gonna run into town and grab lunch for everybody.”

Nash instantly looks up. “I’ll go with you.”

---