Page 14 of That Moment
He pushes off the bench, takes it from me with fingers that brush mine, and grunts. A grunt. That’s it. No thank you, no smile, just that low, maddening sound.
For a beat, my confidence falters. Then his chin tips toward the Mustang, sharp and simple.
“You ready to get to work?”
I almost laugh because, of course, he’s acting no-nonsense. No warm-up, no easing me in. Just straight to business. I follow him into the bay, my palm sliding over the fender of my old car.
“She still looks good.”
“Sexy as hell,” Scotty mutters.
He means the car. At least, that’s what I tell myself. But when I glance up, he’s looking at me instead of the Mustang. For a second, I forget how to breathe.
He clears his throat, nodding at the open hood. “We need to go over the rule first.”
“The rules?”
“Rule, just one. You don’t rush her. You listen.”
“To what?”
“To her.” He says softly, arms crossed as he stares at her. I stare at him for a second, expecting him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
Clearly, he isn’t joking. “I can listen.”
His mouth curves, slow and deliberate, like he hears everything I’m not saying. “Guess we’ll see.” He hands me a pair of gloves as I step next to him.
I tug on the gloves. “Alright then,” I say, forcing steadiness I don’t feel. “Where do we start?”
“Basics,” he says, stepping in closer until his shoulder brushes mine. He leans over the hood, pointing. “Fluids. Belts. Hoses. Make a list.”
I flip open my notebook, pen poised. “I guess I should have paid attention when my dad was trying to teach me this stuff a decade ago, huh?”
He ignores my laugh and gestures toward the coolant reservoir, and I try to focus, but my pulse won’t quit racing. Not with him this close. Not with his voice scraping through me like gravel under tires.
I wanted this. I asked for it. Now I just have to survive it without letting him see how much he already rattles me.
I jot down a note, then glance at the socket wrench in his hand as he points toward a bolt. “See right down in here?” He gestures toward something, but everything looks dark and dusty. I squint, leaning in a little closer as he angles the wrench to squeeze through a tight area. The size alone is enough to spark the devil in me.
“You sure that tool’s the right size?” I ask innocently, eyes flicking up through my lashes. “That looks like it’s going to be so tight."
The sound that comes out of him isn’t a laugh. More like a strangled curse. His jaw flexes as he mutters, “Christ, woman.”
So that’s how we’re going to play it?
He’s usually even quicker with the comebacks and far dirtier. I smirk, victorious, until he cuts me a look so hot it scorches straight down my spine.
“Some distracted?” I tease.
“Someone a little pent up with the MLB star gone?”
I open my mouth to say something back, but then it turns to laughter. “Damn, right for the throat.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He finally asks after a few minutes. “That you guys broke up, I mean.”
“Dumped me, actually.” I correct. “Why didn’t you tell me your situationship has ended?”
“Dumped you?” He gives me a questioning look, ignoring my second comment.
