Page 82 of Saving the Last Heir
“Sure.” Jackson glanced around. “Uh…what’s the radiator look like?”
I laughed and stepped into his place to help.
“You’re better at this than me anyway,” Jackson said as Brent finished a few minutes later. “Better if you do it.”
I loved hearing that. Invariably, the guys I’d dated in the past had all found it both interesting and somewhat confusing that I owned a car shop. The most frustrating thing about it was that, no matter what their background, they always tried or attempted to act like they knew as much as or more than I did about cars. Something about cars activated some weird prideful streak in a lot of men, as if it somehow degraded their masculinity to have a woman who was able to do more than they could under the hood.
Jackson hadnoneof that. In the few days he’d spent hanging around here, he was the first to say he had no clue what he was doing. Not only that, but he said it in such a way that was more self-deprecating and unconcerned rather than being ashamed or embarrassed. It was a nice change of pace.
We spent the rest of the afternoon milling about the shop, helping out here and there, waiting for a call about some of the supplies I needed for our plan. Jackson had set himself up at a table with his laptop and was working on something. Probably to do with his family’s businesses or perhaps somealphathings? The stuff he dealt with was as incomprehensible to me as timing belts and rev limiters were to him.
I was staring at him when Reggie nudged me with his elbow.
“I see that look, little missy,” he whispered.
Tearing my gaze from Jackson, I faced Reggie.
“What look?” I hissed.
He gave me a self-satisfied and knowing smirk. “The look of a lady who is”—he put his hands to his chest and fluttered his eyelashes, turning his voice into a terrible falsetto—“falling forthe one.”
“Get back to work before I fire your ass,” I hissed.
Reggie burst into a fit of laughter that nearly had him bent over and wheezing. Thankfully, the noise of the shop was too loud for anyone to hear what we’d said or his outburst. My face grew hot as he shuffled away and went back to work. Even after what he’d said, my eyes traveled back to Jackson, who continued.
Was that true? Was I falling for him? Outwardly, he seemed…perfect? No, not perfect—no one was—but damn, therewassomething about him that had hooked me. He was gentle, funny, strong, smart, kind—all the things I’d always looked for in a partner. He was alsoamazingin bed and looked like a Greek god with his clothes off, which was a nice little cherry on top.
I tried to shove the thoughts aside. This wasn’t some goofy rom-com movie where the girl got the guy after a bunch of silly hijinks and misunderstandings. This was real life. The poor car shop owner covered in grease didn’t end up with the hot magical millionaire. We’d been thrown together due to circumstances beyond our control, and I was helping him save a child—no,twochildren now. When this was all over, he’d probably drift back to his life, and I to mine.
The people who’d taken his sister, and were threatening Christian’s, had to be dealt with. A timer was counting down, and we needed to focus on saving the kids. As badly as I wanted to truly explore what might or might not be between Jackson and me,thatwas the main focus.
Jackson glanced up from his computer and scanned the shop until his eyes met mine. He grinned and winked before going back to work.
That look, those eyes, the way his lips quirked as he smiled at me… it sent every other thought I’d had tumbling into space. My stomach gave a pleasant flutter, and a surge of heat flooded through me, settling between my legs. My knees went weak, and I imagined a hundred quick moments with him—kissing, holding hands, having dinners, laughing at a movie, hard fucking and soft lovemaking. All of it blasted through my imagination like a bomb. All brought about by a grin and a wink.
“Shit,” I muttered.
18
SHYANNE
“Hey boss?—”
“Close the damn door!” I shouted.
Carlo flinched and closed the door until there was only an inch left to speak through. “Damn. Calm down,” he said, sounding both confused and irritated. “I just wanted to tell you that your old man is here. He’s talking to Jackson, but he asked about you.”
Quickly pulling the tarp back over the car, I let out a sigh. The damn thing was almost ready, but I didn’t want my staff seeing it. I wanted to be sure every single one of them had plausible deniability if things went sideways with this plan. I’d need to wait until they went home to bring out the welder and additional steel, so I could complete the louder portions of the work I had to do.
“I’ll be right out,” I said.
“Sure,” Carlo said, then closed the door to the paint room.
I’d kept the roll-up door locked since sneaking the car into the shop a few nights before, allowing myself and Jackson to work in secret. I only let anyone in and out through the small side door. The job we were doing was painstaking, but it had to be done just right, otherwise everything would fall apart before we even got started. The closer we got to the day we had to pull this off, the more stressed out both of us became.
I headed to the door and stepped out into the main shop.
Dad was at the far end of the shop, talking to Jackson. Rather than his usual walker, he was using his cane. That irritated me. The walker was more stable and had a flip-down seat so he could rest if his joints got too tired or painful. Typically, he only used the cane when he was going a short distance, but his pride sometimes got to him too much, and he used it when he was going out and about.
