Page 14 of One Touch

I handed her a fresh towel and a spare set of overalls. “These will be big on you, but they’re clean, at least.”

Lily took the items gratefully. “Thank you. I won’t be long.”

I nodded, stepping back out into the shop. As I heard the distant rush of the shower, I leaned against the wall, letting out a long breath. What was happening to me?

I just called the poor woman beautiful. Practically drooled on her in her hour of need. What an asshole.

I shook my head, then turned my attention to the Ferrari. I circled the car, my heart sinking with each new dent and scratch I discovered. The front end was crumpled, the windshield a spiderweb of cracks. The once straight white lines were now so wonky they may as well have spelled out the words “Scrap heap.” This was going to be one hell of a repair job. And Disney World was almost definitely going to have to wait another year.

Luckily, even though Lily might not be insured, I sure as hell was.

As I took a fingernail to one of the deeper scratches on the car’s side, something on the other car caught my eye.

When I’d restored that black Chevy, the brakes hadn’t looked nearly that worn.

I leaned down for a closer look. There were deep grooves and cracks on the surface of the brake rotors. To confirm my fears, Iwalked around the car and looked at the opposing brake. It was cracked even more deeply than the first.

“Holy fuck.”

That idiot. He must have replaced the brake calipers. He’d gone and bought some super-fancy, high-performance system that was completely incompatible with this old car. Not only that, but he hadn’t gotten them installed correctly. They were so badly aligned that every time he’d braked, he had done permanent damage to the system.

Of course Lily hadn’t been able to control the car—it was a miracle that she’d managed to reduce her speed at all. Any animosity I might have had toward Lily for crashing into my shop evaporated.

I was just reaching for my wrench to get a closer look at the rotors when a blood-curdling scream ripped through the air. My heart leaped into my throat. I dropped the tool with a clang and sprinted toward the bathroom. A million terrible scenarios raced through my mind—had she slipped and fallen? Had she found another injury from the crash?

“Lily?” I called.

The scream sounded out again.

Not willing to wait another second, I burst open the door, ready for anything. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greeted me.

The shower was running, but Lily was out of it, naked, with water dripping down her perfect breasts and flat stomach, her red hair clinging in dark coils around her shoulders. In her hands was the wedding dress, mostly now ripped to shreds.

Frozen on the spot, she looked at me.

For a moment, I could only stare, my brain struggling to process the sight. Then, with a jolt, I snapped out of it and turned around, averting my eyes. “Shit, Lily, I’m sorry. I heard you scream and thought you were hurt.” I grabbed a towelfrom the hook on the back of the door, and—without looking—I passed it back to Lily.

“Oh god. It’s my fault. I don’t know what came over me.” I heard her wrapping herself in the towel and tried not to think about her amazing body, now forever imprinted in my mind.

“Don’t apologize. It’s been an overwhelming day.”

“I hate that dress, Ethan. I can’t stress enough to you how much I hate it.”

“You know, I’m getting that.”

“You can look, I’m covered up.”

She was, but it didn’t help much. She looked just as good in that towel as she did out of it. Seeing her wet hair and her face without make-up or glasses, felt so intimate, like I was trespassing on her life.

“I’ll clean this up. I’ve never torn up a wedding dress before. It’s actually quite messy.”

I laughed, trying to ease the tension. “Don’t worry about it, Lily. Any of it.”

“Not only do I owe you money, I owe you for being so understanding.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I’ve got an eight-year-old, I’m a pro at clearing up messes.”

Lily’s face flushed with sadness. “Yep. I’m basically a kid. That’s why I’m in this mess. I believed in fairy tales. Or at least, I used to.”

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