Page 11 of The Millionaire's Mechanic

The items on her to-do list were piling up. Next on the agenda—find boxes so she could start packing up her bedroom. No one had made an offer on the house yet, but there’d been a few inquiries. The realtor told them that housing was in such demand that they could expect an offer above their asking price, even in this older neighborhood.

That was good news, of course, but Georgia had still cried herself to sleep after the woman had shared that tidbit.

Because Ephraim was still at work, shuttering his office, Georgia allowed herself a few tears now.A house isn’t a home, she assured herself. Home was family, which meant as long as she and Ephraim stuck together, she wasn’t losing that. But it still hurt to think of losing the house. This was the place where Diamond, a librarian and mechanic’s daughter, had taught Georgia how to cookandhow to change her own tires.

Her foster mother had been the one to show her and Mack the ins and outs of car maintenance. Diamond kept her mechanic skills up because she considered it a cost-saving measure. Books were her first love, and she’d been a dedicated librarian for forty years.

As a child, Georgia used to spend hours in the kids’ section while Diamond worked. Then, as a teen, she loved being able to read how-to manuals, to figure out how things worked. Books that broke down how to work on engines had been revelations.

“You can find anything in a book,” Diamond had said when an astonished Georgia had run to the circulation desk to show her the glossy pictures in the hardback.

Thinking about that day brought a lump to her throat. But Georgia embraced the memory. Diamond wouldn’t want her to look back at any of their time together with regret or melancholia. Her foster mother had been strong and sure of herself. Even cancer hadn’t destroyed her innate sense of self or core competence. She tried to teach Georgia that, telling her that she had to learn to roll with the punches. Georgia liked to think she’d succeeded, although she would be the first to admit that all the years Diamond had spent coaxing her out of her shell were a spectacular failure.

Wiping her face on a clean spot on her sleeve, Georgia began to prep the sander to remove the lingering traces of rust and old paint.

The original color had been black, but she had sourced a deep rich burgundy that was era-appropriate. Painting the vehicle would normally be the last step for her, but she’d decided not to wait for those last few parts she needed to finish rebuilding the engine—Georgia had a few leads on where to find them.

If those didn’t pan out, she would repurpose something a little more modern. It wasn’t as if she were going to sell the car to a picky millionaire who insisted on complete authenticity. Not after Ephraim’s reaction to the suggestion.

When Georgia moved her foot, a piece of metal bounced away with a tinkling sound.

“How did you get here?” she asked, picking up the round bolt she’d nudged with her boot. She was normally very meticulous when it came to taking engines apart—not a screw or nut out of place. “You’re slipping, G…”

With many other mechanics, the engine parts would have been a scattered mess, but Georgia’s compulsion for order reigned supreme in her garage. The bulk of the Talbot’s engine block was spread out into partially assembled piles on the table, which she had made out of wooden pallets. The surface was the top of a metal desk someone had sawed off and left at the junkyard.

Walking around the engine block, she placed the missing bolt next to the carburetor she planned to install after the new fuel line came in. “Now don’t run off again,” she warned it.

“Do you always talk to your machinery?”

Gasping, Georgia snatched up the nearest object. Whirling around, she threw it at the voice. Belatedly, she recognized the tall man who stood just outside the garage’s threshold.

Shit! She had just thrown her heaviest socket wrench at a millionaire.

CHAPTERSEVEN

Georgia’s terrible aim saved the day. The heavy tool clattered to the floor a few feet away from Rainer’s feet.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, lifting his hands to show her that he was unarmed.

Then Rainer turned to the Talbot, his appreciation and admiration warming his expression. The transformation took him from cool sophisticate to luscious Greek demigod on the prowl. Even his hair was different. The stunning blue was brown now, taking him from a modern masterpiece to merely unapproachable. Perseus in blue jeans searching for his next conquest.

Her brain promptly short-circuited. Until she realized he hadn’t come forher. He had come for the car.

Rainer moved toward the Talbot, crossing the threshold and officially invading her domain. Her eyes swam as it shrunk in size, going from a roomy two-car garage to a cramped shed, almost like a sci-fi effect in a movie.

“It’s even more impressive in real life,” he said, stroking the sleek curved hood.

“Thanks,” she managed, her eyes roaming over him helplessly.

Rainer was dressed casually today, wearing a plain white t-shirt under a simple but expensive black leather racer jacket. It was paired with jeans that hugged his long legs so faithfully they had to be custom made. Either that or Rainer possessed the form designers pretended all men had but so few were blessed with.

The man in question didn’t seem too distressed at having a wrench flung at him. It lay forgotten on the floor as he walked around the car.

Dazed, she watched as the space around him shifted like a kaleidoscope with a fixed center.Damn…I man must have been larger than life because he was bending reality around him, like an ultra-dense neutron star that sucked in all the matter, warping their surrounding space.

Blinking to clear her head, Georgia snapped her mouth shut after realizing she stood there gaping, openmouthed.Girl, get a grip. He’s just a man.

But her brain kept telling her otherwise. She and this perfect specimen of humanity didn’t live on the same plane of existence.

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