Page 3 of Falling for the Mechanic
Can this thing actually lift my car without a piece or two falling off in the process?
As the driver’s door swings open and a man steps out, my mind is momentarily taken off my car. I’m suddenly focused on a set of broad shoulders and wavy, sandy brown colored hair. The stern look in his eyes as he glances my way gives me a gut feeling that this is the man I spoke to on the phone.
The beard on his face hardly hides his frown as he looks at my vehicle. There’s something in his eyes that extends past annoyance. So, why is my skin prickling up like this?
I’m not used to men like this. Sure, I work with some pretty good-looking guys, but none are this…wildlooking.
Like someone who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of them.
Unlike the usual suit-types I’m used to, this guy looks like he was up to his arms in an engine before we spoke. If it weren’t for my cry for help, he’d still be there working.
Before he reaches my car, I’m shoving the door open and stumbling out. They say a car mirrors the owner, and boy, if that saying isn’t true. I almost break an ankle just trying to get out.
He comes to a stop right at my door just as I find myself clutching at the top of it. For a few seconds, it feels like everything just…stops.
The world stops spinning. Time stops ticking.
We just stare at each other. His expression doesn’t change, not really. His frown looks like it’s grown a little at most. But me? Oh boy, my face feelshot.
Parting my lips, I try to speak, but my brain is feeling a little fuzzy. Knowing there’s one thing he’ll want to hear, I try anyway. I stumble on my words, leaving me feeling mortified as the two words slip out. “Thank you.”
He hung up on me before I could share my gratitude.
My words seem to break him out of his trance. He grunts, and I can’t tell what kind of reply that is, but it doesn’t matter. He’s moving to look at my flat tire. Kneeling down, he reaches out to touch the rubber like he’s having some kind of conversation with it. Maybe he’s a car whisperer.
“I hit a hole.” Catching myself staring at his stained fingers, I note that the color reaches up all the way to his wrist. “I’m surprised no one has gotten a flat already.”
“People tend to avoid holes, not hit them.” He stands again and looks back. “I saw it. One hell of a hole. Don’t know how you hit it dead on.”
Talk about pouring salt on a wound. Telling him the truth, that my attention wasn’t on the road, will only add more insults.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch as he pulls out his phone, typing away a message. Is he telling someone else that he’s met the world’s worst driver?
“I’ve filed a report. Should be fixed in no time.” He explains himself as if he can read my thoughts. Or, he can feel the weightof my stare. “It’ll take me a few minutes to get you hooked up. I’d advise stepping away.”
Nodding, I figure stepping on the other side of the road will be enough to satisfy him. I mean, that’s pretty far away. However, the moment I step toward those unwelcoming wooden posts, arms crossed to keep warm, he sighs under his breath again.
He’s a fan of making that noise. Not sure if he’s aware.
“Wait in the truck. The heater is on.” The order comes firmer. “Don’t…touch anything.”
The way he says it, it’s like he thinks I have sticky fingers.
Pursing my lips, I make sure to thank him with a little sarcasm on the side before I’m stepping a little too heavily toward his junker of a vehicle.
Little does he know, I’m going to toucheverything.
2
Cameron
She’s switched my radio station to something that’s the opposite of what I normally listen to—rock. Now, pop hits are blasting in my cab, twice as loud as I usually listen to. But that’s not all. With the new music comes a smell that’s completely new to my truck.
The scent of hazelnut radiates off her like she just finished drinking a cup of coffee. Without thinking about it, I’m breathing in deep to fill my lungs with the scent. Just like the drink itself, I feel buzzed.
I don’t like it.
She doesn’t bother sparing me a glance when I join her. Doesn’t ask how long the drive is going to be despite seemingly being on a schedule. Instead, she purses her pink lips and glares out the window.
