Page 71 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

I bring my hand up and tap the steel door, and at the sound of a startled wrench hitting the car frame, I grit my teeth.

“Shit. Ouch.” She lets out a hiss and places her tools down.

Groaning, I just know she’s sucking on her aching finger the way she did the time she slammed her hand doing Luc’s bike. Before I can do anything, before I can break through the door and fix her pain, the locks click and the chains rattle.

I step back like I did the other day.

Feet. No flip flops today.

Legs. No sweatpants.

She pulls the door up and reveals little sleep shorts and wild hair tied in a ponytail at the back of her head.

The exposed legs don’t leave me breathless.

Not even the tiny inch of exposed belly winds me.

But her smile does.

She’s smiling, and it makes my heart skip a beat. “Laine…”

“Hey.” She turns on bare feet and moves toward the sink at the back of the garage. My stomach drops that this might be a repeat of the other day and the hand scrubbing, but she flips the tap on and watches me over her shoulder. “Sorry. Come on in. I slammed my finger, then when I sucked on it, I got a mouthful of something I don’t wanna dissect. Oil and sand… and maybe dead pigeon.” Her lips crinkle. “Gross.”

I walk into the garage and pull the door closed. “Your hand okay?”

“Yeah.” Long blonde hair hangs between her shoulder blades and swings as she moves. Last time I saw her, it was unwashed and knotted in a bun. It’s not salon styled this morning, but it’s clean and silky smooth. “Your knock scared me. I expected to hear the car in the driveway, so I jumped when you knocked.”

“Sorry.” I move further into her space and stop when I get to the engine bay. “Fuck me, Laine. How much work did you put into this?” The crankcase is already off. The rods and pistons out and cleaned up. Spark plugs tossed aside. The oil pump is gone, and a brand-new mounting kit is opened and set aside. “Are you trying to put me out of work?”

She turns and dries her hands on a towel. “Nah. And I know I said I wouldn’t mess with it anymore, but that was a lie.” She grins. “It wasn’t something I tried to follow through on. I didn’t start with good intentions to stay away. It was just a bold-faced lie. My car, sorry.”

She’s different.

She’s better.

“Big day yesterday?”

She shrugs and tosses her towel aside. Stopping in front of the engine, she surrounds me with the aroma of tropical fruit shampoo and maybe dead pigeon. “Saw my therapist. Had ice-cream.”

“Stick ice-cream?”

She flashes the biggest grin I’ve seen in years. “Nope.”

It’s like she committed a crime. “You didn’t…”

“We did!” She squeaks like she used to on a Saturday night when she was doing things she knew she shouldn’t. “We sat our asses in Dixie’s, ate our overpriced ice-cream, then we scratched our names into the booth and ran outta there like we were on fire.”

“You heathen.” I laugh and turn back to the engine before I get caught staring at her chest. I can’t do that. I can’t be that guy. “Dixie’s gonna come after us with a shovel.”

“Again.” She snickers. “That old bitch already tried once.”

I shake my head and pick up the socket she was working with before I got here. “Trouble. You and your sister; pure fucking trouble.”

“We’ve caused hardly any trouble in forever. Now she’s all legit; she’s practically married, a lawyer, and a respectable citizen.”

“And you?”

“A teacher! What the hell was I thinking?”

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