Page 13 of The Mechanic's Match
“Because it’s a small town,” she says simply. “The gossip runs wild and I’m the new flavor of the week.”
She’s too damn perceptive for her own good. I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been here before?”
She blinks, caught off guard. “What?”
“Cal said you spent a summer here in high school,” I say, my voice sharp. “Why didn’t you mention that?”
She fidgets, tucking her legs under her on the couch. “I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It matters.”
Her gaze drops to her hands, and for the first time, she looks unsure. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, Fox. It’s just... a lot happened that summer. Coming back here feels different now.”
“Different how?”
She hesitates, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. “It’s complicated,” she finally says.
“Try me.”
She lets out a shaky breath, meeting my gaze. “I came back because I needed a fresh start. The city wasn’t working for me anymore. And, okay, maybe I have some unfinished business with this place.”
“Unfinished business?” I repeat, my frustration simmering. “Like what?”
“Like figuring out why it feels more like home than the city ever did,” she snaps, her tone defensive. “And maybe figuring out whyyouseem to care so much all of a sudden.”
Her words hit their mark, and I feel my control slipping. Crossing the room, I stop just short of the couch, looming over her.
“Maybe because you’re not just passing through like you keep pretending,” I say, my voice low and rough. “Maybe because you’re turning my life upside down, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Her breath catches, her eyes widening. For a moment, the air between us is electric, charged with everything we’re not saying.
“Fox...” she starts, but I don’t let her finish.
“Don’t,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t say my name like that unless you mean it.”
“Mean what?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Unless you’re ready for what happens next.”
The tension snaps, and before I can think better of it, I close the distance between us. I pull her in for a kiss, my hands holding her neck with tender possessiveness. Her lips are soft and warm, and when she kisses me back, it feels like the only thing that’s made sense in a long time.
This girl is trouble. But I’m starting to think she’s just the kind of trouble I need.
Chapter Seven
Amelia
The smell of coffee still lingers in the loft when I decide to tackle the chaos that is Fox’s living space. I can’t stop thinking about the way he pressed his lips to mine last night, the rough rasp of his calloused palms on my smooth skin…and the disappointment I felt when I realized he was sleeping on the couch last night and not with me in bed. It’s only been a few nights but I’ve been here long enough to know one thing: this man might be a genius with engines, but he’s clueless when it comes to keeping his space livable. Tools piled on the kitchen counter, random screws scattered across the floor—how he hasn’t tripped and died is beyond me.
“Okay, Mr. Grump,” I mutter, tying my hair into a messy bun. “Time to bring some order to the cave, caveman.”
I start with the kitchen, scooping up bolts and wrenches, and moving them to a small tool chest I found shoved under the sink. I hum a little tune, pausing to sip the lukewarm coffee I made earlier. My notebooks, laptop, and camera gear are spread out on the table, and I figure he won’t mind me claiming a corner. If he didn’t want me here, he could have said no, right?
The thought makes me smirk. Fox Miller wouldn’t say no to a stray kitten, let alone a stranded woman. Beneath that grumpy exterior is a man who’s way too soft for his own good—he just hasn’t figured it out yet.
By the time I hear the crunch of gravel outside later, I’ve rearranged the kitchen counters, wiped down the sink, and started folding the throw blanket he leaves crumpled on the couch. The loft actually looks...inviting.
The door swings open, and there he is, all broad shoulders and irritated scowl. His boots thud against the floor as he steps inside, immediately freezing when he sees what I’ve done.
