Page 3 of Saved By The Mechanic

Oh my God, what do I do if cops storm in here and arrest me? I can’t go to jail. I just escaped from one.

The man didn’t say anything about going to call the cops, but the fact that he didn’t call me out on my lies worries me. He has no reason to play along. Well, if he doesn’t already know that nothing’s wrong with the car, he’ll soon find out that I lied about everything.

“Deep breaths, Penny. You’re just a girl. You can always play it off like you had no idea the car was in perfect condition.”

Christ, the anxiety is killing me.

Maybe I should tell the mechanic the truth . . .

“No, Penny,” I scold myself, pushing back from the window to pace the room.

I can’t tell him or anyone else the truth. That would only put more people in danger. I just need to stay calm and wait untilhe comes back with the bill, and then I’ll be on my way. By then, I’m sure it will be safe for me to get back on the road.

With that thought in place, I quit pacing and settle on the leather chair. My heels tap restlessly against the floor and I fight the urge to get up and pace around the room again, so I grab the white box the mechanic gave me and peek inside. My stomach growls and my mouth waters at the sight of the cinnamon rolls.

I . . . I shouldn’t.

The cinnamon rolls look heavenly with their golden brown, perfectly baked exterior covered in rich white icing . Their inviting aroma fills the room.

It’s true that I haven’t had anything to eat for hours, not since I escaped . . .him.

No, I am not going to think about him or the fact that he could be out there looking or me—and his car. I turn my focus back to the box, and I question if the mechanic will notice if I grab one.Just one.

With shaky hands, I lift a roll from the box and take a bite. The soft, buttery layers melt in my mouth, and I close my lips, moaning deeply at just how good it tastes. The noises I make are downright sinful as the gooey cinnamon filling oozes out and fills my mouth. This has to be the best tasting thing I have ever had in my mouth, and for a hot moment, I forget all the worries that have plagued my mind since I fled this morning. It’s that good.

When I open my eyes to reach for another roll, I notice the figure standing by the door watching me. I jump at the sight of the handsome mechanic and almost tip the chair back, but he moves lighting fast, grabbing the chair to steady it before I can fall.

My cheeks flare in mortification as I straighten up and silently beg the floor to open and swallow me whole. As a matter of fact, that would provide a solution to most of my problems.

“Are you okay?” the mechanic, whose name I have yet to learn, asks from behind me in a deep voice that sends a hot rush of air trailing down my spine. This close, I can smell the faint scent of car grease on him, but it’s the deep earthy scent clinging to his skin that has my most intimate place pulsing with need.

I tr to force in slow deep breaths to calm my racing heart, but all I do is inhale more of his scent, and it sends my head reeling.

“Y-yes, I . . . I’m fine,” I stutter, clearing my voice when it comes out a little high-pitched.

“I came in to ask for your car key. You forgot to hand it over to me.”

“Oh, right!”

I reach into my purse and grab the key fob before handing it over to him, and while I expect him to leave immediately, he does no such thing. With his hand on the back of the chair, the man stays, his sharp gaze focused on my face.

“Enjoying the cinnamon rolls, I see.”

My cheeks flush deeper, and I avoid meeting his blue eyes. They are so dark and intense, and coupled with his deep warm voice, it’s a wonder I am able to keep my composure.

“Um . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind if I had one,” I whisper, looking up, but I quickly avert my eyes when I find his eyes intense ones on mine. “I’ll pay—”

“No need,” he says, straightening and finally pushing away from me, giving me space to breathe. “You can have as many asyou want. It might take me a while before I am through servicing your car.”

My eyes shoot up, and I fight the need to tell him the truth.

I want to tell him there is nothing wrong with the car. I came up with the lies because I needed a place to hide. To hide from the man looking for me and his car. I was thought someone was tailing me, so I stopped here to be sure. This was the first place I saw that looked busy.

If I tell this man the truth, then maybe he’ll let me hide here a little longer and I can leave later when it’s dark.

I just need to open my lips and tell him everything, and with the way he’s watching me, it’s almost as if he’s expecting me to explain myself, but I can’t get the words out.

So, I remain quiet, and he doesn’t push me for answers.

---