Page 13 of Falling for the Mechanic
These leggings of hers are going to be the death of me. I can feel her body heat seeping through the fabric. Somehow, she doesn’t burn my palms as I give her body a slight, testing squeeze. She feels perfect. Right.
If she asked me, she’s perfect the way she is. Wouldn’t change a thing.
“Dad called me fat.” She groans against my ear and chokes me out with her arms as she tucks her chin into my neck. “But here you are, carrying me like I weigh nothing. So strong. I swear, everything about you is so weird. Never met someone like you…”
She mumbles more words against my skin, but most are incoherent.
A chuckle rumbles out of me from her backhanded compliment, and I walk with ease. She really doesn’t weigh as much as she thinks she does, and if anyone says otherwise, they can go shove it. I could carry her for miles, even while my mind is muddled.
One of her arms shifts, and her fingers touch my chin, then my lips. Her touch is feather-light, exploratory. She gasps softly. “Are you smiling? You can do that?”
I can’t help the next laugh that slips out, tickling her fingers in the process. “Surprising, isn’t it? Forgot I could do it, too.” I don’t reveal to her that she’s now on a small list of people who can make it happen.
Listening to her ramble as I walk, I hardly tire the entire way. Each step I take makes me feel lighter than the last.
Chelsea wants to say I’m the weird one? She’s the one who has flipped a switch the moment alcohol hits her system. Have to admit, I like her feeling happy like this.
This version of her, loose-limbed and trusting on my back, feels like a gift. Much better than the saddened version of her sitting in the garage. I know, with a certainty that shocks me, that I don’t ever want to see her like that again if I have anything to do with it.
“Hey.” Reaching the familiar gated community, I have to set her down so I can punch in my pin. My back feels cold without her. Unfortunately, she insists she can walk the rest of the way, so I don’t have the excuse to pick her back up. “I don’t know how long you have left in town, but if you need to get away…”
The words are out before I can stop them. It’s a risk, opening a door I usually keep welded shut.
Should I offer up the garage as a safe space for her? Hell, when I lost Dad, and everything went downhill, the garage was that for me. It’s about all I had.
The smell of oil and gasoline was the only thing that could drown out the silence. Can’t say I would mind if she were around. Her presence would change the very atmosphere of the place. Might be a bit of a distraction, but if she’s like this when she’s feeling good, then will I really have a reason to be in a bad mood?
“If you’re not a pain in my ass, you can hang out at the garage. Just can’t be in the way.” I grunt as she leans against me as we start walking. I have to move slowly so she can keep up with me, and I find I don’t mind the pace. “If you even remember this conversation, the offer is there.”
Chelsea hums like she’s thinking about it, a soft, sleepy sound, but she doesn’t give me any kind of answer. Giving me nothing to cling to, I’m left wondering when the next time I’ll see her will be, once I send her off with her car.
The thought of her driving away for good feels like a door slamming shut on all this strange, new light, and the preemptive gloom of it is enough to make my steps heavy again.
More reason not to let myself get too comfortable. Not to do something reckless that neither of us can take back.
So, I’ll give her a place to sleep and send her on her way.
What other choice is there?
5
Chelsea
I wake up to the smell of motor oil and pine. It takes opening my eyes to see I have my face pressed into a pillow that isn’t mine.
Jerking into a sitting position, I survive two seconds of realizing I’m in a room I don’t recognize before the world spins and my entire head throbs.
Pinching my eyes shut until everything stills, I push the blanket away from my body to see I’m still in the same clothes as yesterday. The spot next to me is empty, and I don’t think anyone is occupying it.
Whose house am I in? Did I let a stranger take me home? I didn’t lose something precious, did I?
Heat spreads to my cheeks when the first thing I recall is Cameron carrying me here. I can’t believe I let him. His poor back. I’m going to have to apologize, aren’t I?
Groaning, I look next to me and see a tall glass of water already waiting with a few painkillers with my name written all over them.
Taking them and consuming the entire glass, I slowly leave the bed. Can’t remember the last time I had such a bad hangover.
Ugh.
