Page 12 of Falling for the Mechanic
When was the last time I let my guard down enough around a person? Hell, I don’t think I wanted to kiss them.
Chelsea just makes me do things I don’t do. What is it about her?
Why can’t the answers be more obvious and on the surface?
Even if every person in this town has a problem with me, I want Chelsea to see me in a better light. I need her to.
“My brother will kill me.” She sniffs and opens her eyes, and I catch myself getting lost in a forest of green. Her eyes areglassy, but deep, and they hold a universe of hurt I suddenly feel compelled to explore. “I can’t let my parents see me like this. Not after—” She hiccups and groans. “—not after I made a scene of running away.”
Damn it. What do I do with her then? Can I trust myself? These cravings are forming a mile a minute, and wanting to give in to the temptations here, she’s going to make the act of holding back impossible.
Running a hand down my face, I consider how much I’ve drunk. Too much to drive. Finally, I sigh. The decision is made before I even think it through. “Think you can walk a few blocks? If not, I’m leaving you at the bar.” I won’t actually, but my threat is enough to make her bob her head.
Swaying, I make her walk in front of me to make sure she doesn’t lose her balance. Each little sway of hers has me jerking every time I think she’s going to go down. My hands are constantly hovering, ready to catch her.
Does she realize how much of a handful she is? I should be annoyed by now. Should be.
Reaching outside, the air is much cooler than it was when we showed up. I take in her outfit and wonder if it’s enough to keep her warm.
I don’t consider what to do, automatically shedding my jacket. The thought of her shivering is intolerable. I work in a hot shop all year round. Honestly, it takes more than some cool weather to make my teeth clatter.
“Here.” Speaking too forcefully, I try to reel it back before I scare her. I’m not good at this. “Don’t want you getting sick. You’re already going to give me a hard time for your future hangover.”
Blinking at my offering, a fuller smile overtakes her expression when she realizes what I’m doing. It’s a smile just for me, and it hits me square in the chest.
Fuck. Are all women this pretty, or is it just her? Just some infuriating, complicated woman who crashed into my garage and my life, and now she’s turning everything I thought I knew upside down?
Ever so slowly, she takes my jacket and slides her arms into the sleeves. She disappears into the worn leather, and the sight of her wrapped in something of mine does something dangerous to my heart rate.
While I’m trying not to see how good she fills something that’s mine, she’s flapping the sleeves because they’re too long, giggling to herself in amusement.
What am I to do? Roll them up for her? Not a chance. Not unless I want her to get the wrong impression.
Then again, is it wrong? She has me feeling all different sorts of ways, and I’m not sure what to do with these feelings. They’re unfamiliar and terrifyingly strong.
Once the jacket dilemma is finished, I attempt to start making our way toward my home. Since it’s not too far away, I assumed we’d be able to take on the challenge.
Boy, I can’t remember the last time I was so wrong.
She’s a pretty liar. She leans more into me at every chance she gets, her feet not working at the same pace as mine, as soon as we try to leave the parking lot.
If I let her go, something tells me her body will give out and she’ll crumple into a pile on the ground.
What if she scrapes her knees or palms on the way down? Fuck, what if she gets hurt at all? The thought makes my chest ache.
“Hold on.” Steadying her the best I can, I turn around and bend at the knee. “Hop on. We’ll get there faster this way.”
She lets out a giggle, but she doesn’t move. When I look over my shoulder, I see her tilting her head in confusion. Once I explain to her that I’m going to carry her, she still doesn’t move.
“I’m heavy.” Two words I don’t want to hear. They’re laced with an insecurity that makes me want to find whoever made her feel this way and have a chat. “Are you sure?”
Once I nod, huffing a bit under my breath, she finally moves. Am I impatient with her taking too long, or do I want to touch her so badly that I’m fighting the urge to just scoop her up and prove to her she’s weightless?
Once Chelsea caves, she melts against my back and immediately wraps her legs around my body. For someone self-conscious, she clings to me like a monkey. Maybe she’s afraid I’ll drop her? The thought is offensive. I’d never let her fall.
My suspicion is proven correct as I stand.
She makes this cute squeaking sound before I cup the underside of her thighs to keep her upright. Her breath is warm against my neck.
