Page 28 of The Mechanic's Match
“Fox,” he says, stepping aside to let me in. “Didn’t think I’d see you today. Everything okay at the garage?”
I step inside, shrugging off my jacket. “Garage is fine. This isn’t about work.”
Jerry raises an eyebrow, motioning toward the couch. “All right, then. What’s on your mind?”
I sit, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. My hands clasp together, the rough calluses scraping against each other. “It’s about Amelia.”
His expression shifts slightly, his mouth tightening. “What about her?”
“She’s staying with me,” I start, my voice steady. “It wasn’t planned. She showed up with nothing but the clothes on her back and one hell of a story. But... it’s more than that now.”
Jerry crosses his arms, his stance rigid. “More than that how?”
I meet his gaze head-on. “I’m in love with her.”
The words land between us like a wrench dropped on concrete, heavy and final. Jerry’s eyes narrow, his jaw working as he processes what I’ve just said.
“Fox,” he says slowly, “you’re twice her age.”
“Not twice,” I shoot back, my tone sharper than I intend. “And that doesn’t matter. She’s a grown woman, capable of making her own choices.”
He glares at me, his silence more intimidating than any shouting could be. But I don’t back down. This is too important.
“She came back here for a reason,” I continue. “She came back because she needed to figure out what this place means to her. Whatyoumean to her. And what we have—it’s real. I’m not letting her go.”
Jerry’s arms drop to his sides, and for a moment, he looks older, wearier. “You’re serious about her.”
“Dead serious.” My voice is firm, unwavering. “I plan on keeping her in my life and taking care of her. Forever.”
Jerry exhales heavily, sinking into the chair across from me. “She’s always been stubborn, you know. Takes after her mother in that way.”
I smirk, leaning back. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
For the first time, Jerry’s lips twitch in what might almost be a smile. “If you hurt her?—”
“I won’t.” The words come out hard, edged with conviction. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’m going to make damn sure she knows it.”
When I leave Jerry’s house, the tension in my chest eases. The conversation wasn’t easy, but it needed to happen. Now it’s up to Amelia to decide if she’s ready to mend things with him. And I’ll be there for her every step of the way.
The door to The Devil’s Brew creaks open as I step inside, my boots heavy against the scuffed wooden floor. It’s just after midnight and the low hum of voices mingles with the faint clink of glasses, but my focus is razor-sharp, my gaze locking onto the woman sitting in the corner booth. Amelia. She’s still wearing my flannel and something possessive inside of me flares.
I’ve been looking for her for hours–ever since I left Jerry’s and discovered she’d packed up her pussy and left my loft while I was gone. She’s got her laptop open, fingers flying over the keyboard, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen. One of my flannels hangs loose on her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair’s pulled into a messy knot, a few stray strands framing her face. Damn, she looks like she belongs here—like she belongs with me.
But the stubborn set of her jaw and the stack of neatly folded papers at the edge of the table say otherwise. She’s already planning her escape. My gut tightens at the sight.
I move toward her, weaving between tables, my stride purposeful. She doesn’t notice me at first, too engrossed in her work. It isn’t until I slide into the booth across from her that she looks up, startled.
Her eyes narrow. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” I say simply, leaning back against the worn booth. “We need to talk.”
She closes her laptop with a soft click, folding her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing to talk about, Fox. I’ve already ordered a taxi for the morning. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
The casual way she says it pisses me off. Like she’s just some temporary inconvenience, like she hasn’t turned my entire world upside down in the best possible way.
“You think leaving is going to fix this?” I growl, my voice low and sharp. “Running away doesn’t solve a damn thing, Amelia.”
Her eyes flash with defiance, but there’s a flicker of something else there, too—something softer, more vulnerable. “I’m not running,” she snaps. “I’m giving you what you wanted. I heard you, Fox. I’m a complication you didn’t sign up for.”
