Page 16 of Crash Course Omega
But I really don’t have time to experiment with things like that. It’s my duty as the Chief Mechanic, or 'Pit Stop Boss', as everyone insists on calling me, to keep the cars running andmake sure everyone is safe. I won’t be able to do that if I’m distracted by my bodily desires.
I had had years to adjust to these feelings. Just because she’s closer than I've ever been to her and that my scent is blending with her skin doesn’t mean I can get distracted.
I turn from her, reaching to the tool trolley on my left to pick up a front wing piece I want to measure up against the nose.
“Wait, is that a front wing?” she asks, leaning around my shoulder, instantly putting me on high alert.
I look at her in surprise as she gives a low whistle.
“Look at that beauty. How did they get the shape to stay like that? I don’t remember them ever arching at that angle.”
She looks genuinely interested, and I can’t help myself. The cars are the entire team’s pride and joy.
“Yes, actually, there have been changes in our design since you left. Especially from F2 to F1 models.”
The front wings sit before the tires to redirect air over them and give them a smoother run.
It isn’t unusual for drivers to want to know the final details of their cars, but none of them smell so good that I want to lick the back of their sweat and rain-drenched necks as they lean forward.
Harmony reaches out, and I edge the wing away from her. I usually refuse to let anyone touch the more intimate parts of the car unless they have been trained how to handle them.
But she looks so fascinated that I falter, and in seconds her fingers are tracing the curve of the wing. Now, suddenly, all I want is for her to stroke me like that.
I try to hide my sharp breath. I don’t like how easily she can make my thoughts run wild.
I give her a hard stare, but she doesn’t see it. She’s too interested in caressing each edge back and forth so slowly I can feel it in my body.
Clearing my throat, I make an attempt. “The new shape spirals the air and allows Maddock and Jaxx to turn a half-inch more precisely,” I say hurriedly. I can’t tell if my heart is beating from nerves, excitement, or arousal.
She pauses as I say our drivers names, and I think I sense a shift in her. But it must be my imagination, because her head shoots up with a bright smile that almost makes me jump back.
“That's amazing! A half inch! Is that at full speed? What’s different about this one compared to the 20s model?” she asks before she takes a sip of her coffee.
I really want to keep running through my routine, but I’m specifically working on the outer body, and maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk her through my checks.
I take a breath before plucking a screwdriver from my pocket, praying this deviation won’t interfere with the qualifying races.
“Well, if you look back here, the way we attach the wing lets us...”
I glance at her occasionally as I speak through my routine to see if it’s enough to put her off, but she keeps nodding, looking more and more interested.
Ten minutes later, she’s pulled up a stool and sits next to me as I work.
We settle into a comfortable atmosphere where we only talk about the car.
Harmony doesn’t ask me any questions about myself; she doesn’t pressure me to tell her who I am.
She doesn’t ask anything of me, or need anything. She’s happy to sit here and sip her coffee or sniff my jacket, though not as deeply as she'd inhaled when she’d buried her face in my crotch.
I won’t live that down. It’s already seared in my memory, and it’s easier to focus on work than on her flushed cheeks and her easy smile.
By the time the sun rises, she’s gone, and all that’s left is a light brush of strawberries and cream and a feeling of peace swirling around me.
Harmony
“You're finally here,” my brother calls as we walk toward him through the party-goers.
Jacob says it just loud enough to make sure we know he’s annoyed that I'd avoided him the entire weekend.
